Ode to the Witch

by Magical Irish Dolphin

A continuation of The Music Box with Willie, Maggie, the ghost of Josette, and many others - Julia's quest to cure Barnabas becomes complicated with Angelique's arrival, who not only wants Barnabas to suffer, but wants to become mistress of Collinwood. But the ghosts have other ideas. Chapter 33 is coming soon!

8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine

---

CHAPTER 8: THE DOUBLE COURTINGS

The front double doors mystically flung themselves wide open in that ever tingling and unnatural breeze as Julia and Maggie entered the Old House donning their winter coats. The doors flung themselves shut once they properly entered.

They found Barnabas and Willie in the candle lit parlor with Josette's wispy ghost swirling around the crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Julia and Maggie's gaze were low and heavily dispirited.

"Carolyn Stoddard is recovering comfortably after her manic episode," Julia reported, gazing up at Barnabas.

"What happened to Carolyn?" Barnabas looked at her very narrowly.

"All I was told was she had some sort of fit and fainted." Julia shrugged. "I believe she'll be fine. She's resting now."

"Mrs. Stoddard and I heard Carolyn and Joe yelling and screaming in the drawing room," Maggie added, keeping her gaze downward.

She dreaded to look up at Barnabas.

"Has Haskell put in his side of the story?" Barnabas inquired of her.

"I asked him why he was screaming, but he was too worried about Carolyn." Maggie still held her gaze to the floor. She didn't want to look into the inhuman eyes of the monster who'd kidnapped her.

"But me and Maggie overheard Carolyn sayin' that she felt somethin' go inside her and wantin' to take control of her body," Willie informed Barnabas. "Me and Maggie know that feelin'."

"Yes, when Josette and Jeremiah possessed you both," Barnabas sniped, glaring harshly at his former servant. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Willie!"

"Barnabas," Josette said crossly from up the chiming chandelier.

Maggie glared up at Barnabas, and said evenly, "Barnabas, isn't it possible that Angelique was responsible for what happened to Carolyn?"

"Likely," Barnabas responded. "She wants to be mistress of Collinwood."

"And she really is going to use her portrait to become Collinwood's mistress, just like Josette used her portrait to become the mistress of this house," Maggie theorized softly as she rubbed her chin.

"Yes." Josette nodded up by the chandelier.

"I knew it." Maggie lowered her gaze again.

"The portrait is back in Angelique's possession," Julia told Barnabas. "Roger announced that the portrait has been recovered unharmed."

The news made Barnabas squeeze shut his dark eyes.

"Wha?" Willie spat angrily, his jaw dropped. "I stole that damn portrait for nothin'?!"

"No, Willie." Josette used her jasmine perfume to tickle Willie's nostrils, and the tingling melody of her music box intensified in the air. Josette made herself strongly corporeal as she gracefully lowered herself to the floor. "Your efforts are not for naught. They are greatly appreciated, and Barnabas and I will continue to rely on them. For now, I wish for you to enjoy your evening courting Maggie as planned."

"Courtin'?" Willie furrowed his brow, bewildered by Josette's use of the term "courting."

Maggie gawked at her ghostly doppelgänger. "You know Willie and I have a date?"

"Well of course I do," Josette answered in a nonchalant manner. "You and Willie shall depart here to prepare for your special evening. Leave me to fret over Angelique for tonight. You can worry about her tomorrow."

"I dunno, Josette." Willie wearily scratched his head.

"Maybe she's right, Willie," Maggie murmured tiredly. "We'll get back to Collinwood tomorrow. We'll figure something out then."

"Okay, Maggie."

Willie slowly stepped up to her and gently took her hand in his. They stepped up to the front doors in the foyer together, which flung themselves wide open without them ever touching the knobs.

"I'll never get used to this," Maggie muttered to Willie as they exited the manor.

The doors shut themselves closed once they'd stepped out. Josette watched them go through the peeling pink pillars of the parlor's entrance.

"I cannot believe they are still courting," she remarked, delicately knitting her brow. "I sincerely thought they would be betrothed by now."

Barnabas gaped at his beloved's comment.

Josette swiftly turned her attention back to the room at large. "Are there any other developments at Collinwood, Dr. Hoffman?"

"Nothing more specific than I already mentioned," said Julia. "Mrs. Stoddard invited Barnabas and I over for dinner tonight. Cassandra will be there."

"And I'd very much like to see her," Barnabas snarled menacingly.

"So, we are going then?" Julia sought to confirm.

"Oh, yes," answered Barnabas.

"You may want to change out of those clothes, doctor." Josette critically eyed Julia's casual attire from top to bottom. "One dresses appropriately to a formal Collins dinner."

"Oh, I plan to spruce myself up," Julia assured the ghost with sullen eyes. "You should get ready as well, Barnabas."

"Yes," Barnabas agreed with his doctor.

As the two filed out of the parlor, the draperies from the window billowed and the crystals on the chandelier slightly swayed in that tingling breeze. The ghost of Ben Stokes appeared before the burning fireplace, expectantly waiting for Josette to give out her command.

"Ben, gather the family as soon as Barnabas and Dr. Hoffman leave. I'm calling for a meeting."

---

"Why haven't you learned anything of Barnabas' treatments?"

In the glare of the candle flame, Cassandra had Joe in a trance in the private seclusion of the icy cold tower room. Joe stared blankly into the tiny dancing flame within Cassandra's tight hold. The candle was the only source of light in the dark dismal room.

"I wasn't thinking about Barnabas' treatments," Joe monotonously supplied. "I was worried about Carolyn."

"Yes, everyone's worried about Carolyn," Cassandra snipped.

It was so cold in the tower room it was like an ice box. Cassandra and Joe's breaths actually mist in the air, and they both fortunately had on their coats. Joe's joints were stiff and shivering painfully.

"Everyone thought she had some kind of strange fit," Joe filled in.

"Yes, I am aware," Cassandra said shortly.

"But she was actually possessed," Joe informed her.

"Possessed?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

"By a ghost I think," Joe exclaimed uncertainly.

Cassandra turned away from him, carrying her enchanted candle flame with her. She peered through the filthy window, but couldn't see through the dirt and frost on the glass.

"Josette!" she spat silently.

Joe's brows creased from behind her.

"Josette?" He tilted his head quizzically. "As in Josette Collins?"

Cassandra glared at him, and hissed, "I know she has a living counterpart who is a servant here now. Which is very fitting. Very fitting indeed. Have you seen Josette? Has she spoken to you? I know she's showed herself to some others."

"No," Joe answered honestly with a shake of his head.

"Then who did you see?" Cassandra looked at him narrowly.

"Just some strange silly ghost who looks like Carolyn," Joe exclaimed. "She keeps stressing that you are a witch and she wants me to stay away from you, I guess."

"Oh, how novel." Cassandra nodded curtly. "Then you should keep your attention on the ghosts. Since you evidently can see them, that shouldn't be a problem. Maybe we can use this to our advantage against Josette."

"I don't think so." Joe shook his head skeptically. "The ghost that looks like Carolyn told me her family, who I presume are also ghosts, know that I am under your control. They wouldn't let me come near the Old House when Burke Devlin and I raced there to get Dr. Hoffman for Carolyn."

"Well, see if you can ply some valuable information from this ghost," commanded Cassandra. "What did you say her name was?"

Joe knew he had heard her name when it was spoken by that cruel, condescending phantom bearing his likeness. But he had completely forgotten it.

"I don't know," he answered. "She looks like Carolyn, only she has this... curly hair, and wears old-fashioned clothes, like from the colonial days, I guess."

"Millicent Collins?" Cassandra pondered unsurely to herself.

"Do you know of her?" Joe asked his mistress with a puzzled frown. "Do you know Josette?"

"If you see her again, let her talk to you and see if you can learn anything about Josette," Cassandra ordered, ignoring his query.

"All right, Mrs. Collins." Joe nodded obediently.

He was dumbfounded as to how his mistress could've possibly known two people who died long before she was even born. Whenever that had been.

"Good." Cassandra snuffed out the flame from her candle with her finger tips. Joe stared at her through the shadowy darkness with focused eyes.

"Mrs. Collins, if I may ask," he said. "Why do you want to go after Barnabas Collins so badly?"

"That is none of your concern," Cassandra seethed at him venomously.

She bitterly stormed up to the door.

"Did he hurt you?" Joe echoed behind her from his spot in the center of the freezing room. "Did he break your heart?"

His words suddenly caused Cassandra to pause in her tracks. She whirled around and regarded him cautiously. Through the shadows, Joe saw a very well guarded look within her cold eyes.

"I know how you feel, Mrs. Collins." He gently stepped up to her, his own eyes filled with deep empathy. "I've been there."

Cassandra raised a pointed nose at him, and said dismissively, "Wait a few minutes until after I've gone to leave here, and don't let anyone see you."

Cassandra quickly made her way through the door, and shut Joe in the cold darkness.

---

Ignoring the homework scattered on his desk, David admired his newly found antique telephone in the lamplight in his bedroom. The nineteenth century candlestick model sat on his desk along with the ignored schoolbooks.

David sat on his chair, lazily resting his chin on his hand with his elbow braced on the desk.

"What is that?"

Sarah hovered over David's shoulder, closely inspecting the unique device.

David turned his head toward the ghost girl, and exclaimed, "It's an old telephone."

"Telephone?" Sarah frowned. "You mean like those noisy contraptions you have on the big table in the foyer and in the drawing room downstairs?"

"Yes, only this one is very old," David explained. "And it's not noisy like the ones downstairs. This one is disconnected."

David indicated the cut cord on the back of the phone, but Sarah didn't know what "disconnected" meant. Even though David claimed this strange device was very old, Sarah had never seen anything like it in her short lifetime. Anymore than the advanced models downstairs.

"What do people use telephones for?" Sarah queried.

"To talk to people," David explained a little impatiently.

"You use it to say hi to people?" Sarah continued asking persistently.

"Yes," David answered in the same impatient tone.

"If this telephone worked like the ones downstairs, would you use it to say hi to that girl?" Sarah inquired as she inspected the phone ever more closely.

"What girl?" David frowned at her.

"The one you said hi to downstairs today," Sarah reminded him, her eyes still on the phone. "The girl with the freckles and the red hair."

"I only said hi to her," David muttered indignantly. "I don't even know her name or her phone number to call her."

"That is not why you are in trouble, David," Sarah chided.

David looked at her with tremendous bafflement.

"Trouble? What did I do?"

"You told that Cassandra lady that you played with Josette," Sarah said seriously. "That is not good, David. You know that Cassandra is not nice."

"Yeah, I know." David dropped his gaze. "But why would she be bothered that I played with Josette?"

Before Sarah could reply, a swift rapping came from David's bedroom door. The door swung open, and Cassandra entered unwelcomely. She had a dark tint in her blue eyes that gleamed through the dim lamplight. David couldn't help but find that a little scary. She quickly shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it with her arms crossed.

David was becoming more uncomfortable. He frantically realized he could no longer see Sarah, but he sensed her presence right beside him.

"David, remember earlier today when you told your father and I that you built a snowman with Sarah and Josette?" Cassandra asked of him slowly.

"Well, sure." David shrugged, still a little scared by her abrupt entrance. "I did show it to you."

"Yes, I know." Cassandra slowly shadowed away from the door. "I was wondering if you can tell me more about Sarah and Josette. Especially, Josette. I think it will help us understand each other."

"Be careful what you say to her, David," Sarah's voice whispered softly into his ear.

"Why do you want to know more about them?" David cocked his head, feigning ignorance to his stepmother.

"I know they're very important to you." Cassandra drew herself closer. "And I'd like to understand you better, because you are my stepson. Do you talk to ghosts because there's no other children to play with?"

"I guess so," David muttered thoughtfully with a shrug. "But I guess I have always seen them. We always have ghosts haunting around here. Carolyn, aunt Elizabeth, and even father have said they all saw them when they were kids. Now that they're grown-ups, they think they only imagined it. But I don't think so. I think they really did see them."

"What did you and your ghost friends talk about when you were building the snowman?" Cassandra looked icily demanding.

"David," Sarah's voice warned helplessly in his ear.

"Not much." David shrugged, hoping to look unassuming. "We were just playing."

"You mentioned Josette couldn't see you inside this house," Cassandra firmly reminded him. "Did she explain to you why?"

"No." David shook his head honestly.

"David, I won't tolerate lies from you." Cassandra widely bulged her cold eyes at him.

David naturally tried to protest, but no words shot out of his mouth. In fact, he couldn't make a sound, not even a little whimper. Panically placing a hand to his throat, David fearfully realized he couldn't speak.

"Now, let's try this again," Cassandra said calmly. "Has Josette told you why she can't see you in this house? Move your head yes or no."

David vigorously shook his head, answering no to her question.

"Have you been warned that there is danger in this house?" Cassandra further interrogated.

David nodded his head yes.

Cassandra's icy blue eyes grew more cold and severe. Her face tightened, and her shoulders tensed up. Before she could further interrogate him, a light rapping echoed from his door.

"David." Elizabeth invited herself in and came upon Cassandra's unexpected presence in her nephew's bedroom.

"Hello, Elizabeth." Cassandra smiled sweetly, attempting to melt the anger off her face.

David once again attempted to speak, but no voice floated out of his mouth.

"David, what is the matter?" Deeply concerned, Elizabeth rushed over to her nephew and felt his forehead for a fever.

"Oh, I'm afraid he might be coming down with a cold," Cassandra swiftly invented. "He did play a little too long in the snow today, and I swore he was coming down with something when we went out with his father."

"David, I'll be back to get you some medicine." Elizabeth tenderly caressed David's warm cheek.

She shot a sharp gaze at Cassandra. "I'd like to speak with you."

"Very well." Cassandra slowly turned her gaze to the boy. "You behave now, David. I believe you and I are starting to achieve an understanding."

Elizabeth shot her sister-in-law another hardened look, and both women stepped out of the boy's bedroom and shut the door.

"S-S-Sarah?" David managed in a small scratchy voice.

Cassandra, seemingly, had lifted her spell somewhat. But his throat was itchy and dry.

"David." Sarah showed herself by his desk.

"Sarah, she did something to my voice," David uttered in the same small scratchy voice.

"Oh, David," Sarah said sympathetically. "I know what it is like to be attacked like that."

"You do?" David looked at her surprised.

"I did what I could to help you," Sarah murmured sadly.

Alarmed, David wanted to press her on how she was attacked like he was just now. He wondered if it was in any way connected to her own death. David hoped not, or else he was in deep serious trouble.

The antique telephone disrupted his worries when it rang loudly on his desk. David gasped, startled. Sarah closely inspected the phone again.

"David, didn't you say this telephone is not noisy?"

"Yeah." David nodded, glancing at the cut cord. "It's not even connected."

The phone rang ominously again.

"How can it be ringing?" David wheezed a little frightened.

He extended his hand to pick it up.

"No, don't do it, David," Sarah warned, a little frightened herself.

She strongly knew this shouldn't be occurring.

Ignoring her, David picked up the disconnected phone, and placed the old-fashioned speaker to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" asked a suave masculine voice on the other end of the impossible line.

"I-I..." David stammered, his voice becoming more scratchy.

He honestly didn't expect to hear a voice coming out of this phone. He hoped it was some sort of malfunction that caused it to ring. Peculiarly, their connection was not static. David could hear this man's voice clearly, as if he was in the bedroom with him. David even felt as though the man was actually standing right next to him somehow.

"What is the matter with your voice?" questioned the man on the line with concern clouding his own. "It sounds like you've been attacked by black magic."

"W-What?" David spluttered.

"To whom am I speaking?"

"Put it down, David," Sarah whispered urgently with wide eyes.

"My name is Quentin Collins," explained the man on the line.

"Huh?" David breathed into the receiver.

"My name is Quentin Collins," the man reiterated patiently. "Am I speaking to a Collins by any chance? This is the Collinwood residence, correct?"

"Yes, my name is David Collins."

"David!" Sarah was shocked and appalled he would actually give out his name to a stranger on a device that shouldn't be working.

"Where are you?" David ignored his ghost companion's concern.

"I am locked away, David," answered Quentin forlornly.

"David, please put that away," Sarah pleaded frantically.

Put down the telephone, David.

At that sudden familiar voice, David glanced up and saw the blonde ghost woman in white standing stiltedly by his bedroom door. The same one he saw in the West Wing who warned him to stay away from the haunted paneled wall. She cast David the exact same warning look she had given him when she ordered him to stay away from that wall. Like before, she communicated to him telepathically, something David found strongly unnerving.

As the urgency of her voice resounded prominently inside his head, David unthinkingly obeyed her command and returned the phone back to its cradle. He never took his eyes off her.

I beg of you to get rid of that thing at once. Her words echoed inside his head again. And never go near it again.

With that, a strong tingling chill crept down David's spine, and the ghost woman was no longer present in his bedroom.

"Oh, David, something really is stirring," Sarah said in surprise and wonder. "I hope it won't get any worse."

"We don't have any relative name Quentin," David stated knowingly in his raspy voice. "Who was that? Where does he come from? And why does he need me so badly?"

---

Elizabeth led Cassandra into the deserted drawing room, which was decked cheerfully in its silver garland and cute Christmas ornaments. Elizabeth shut the large double doors firmly once they entered. Cassandra casually strolled over to the warm burning fireplace, while Elizabeth glared at her sharply like a hawk from the shut doors.

Cassandra heaved a weary sigh as she stared deeply into the yellow and red flames. "I take it I did something wrong, again."

"What were you doing in David's bedroom?" Elizabeth slowly drew herself closer to her sister-in-law.

"I was just checking up on him," Cassandra said defensively, turning to face her with wide innocent eyes. "He is my stepson, after all, and I'm glad I did. He's ill."

"Then explain why you looked so angry when I entered the room." Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest as she approached her. "You didn't look truly concerned for him."

Cassandra slightly raised her nose at her. Elizabeth looked far too matronly for her liking, but she inwardly admitted she found the matriarch's attitude amusing. The poor dear actually thought she was in charge of her own house. Cassandra decided to knock her down a peg or two.

"Well, I'm sorry if I came across too strong," said Cassandra. "David tried to conceal his sickness from me, and I must admit I was slightly annoyed."

"That look in your eyes didn't suggest annoyance," Elizabeth said firmly.

Cassandra moved away from the fireplace and stepped up to the desk. A candlestick was placed there. With her back toward Elizabeth, Cassandra found some matches in the drawers. She picked one out, and quickly sparked the candle.

"Did David do something wrong?" Elizabeth inquired by the fireplace.

Cassandra turned to faced her with a wide intense look in her sharp eyes and her candlestick in hand.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by her odd and dominating gestures.

Cassandra lurched herself closer.

"Look into the flame, Elizabeth," Cassandra commanded in a slithering voice.

"What?" Elizabeth furrowed her brows, even more bewildered.

"Look into the tiny flame," Cassandra persisted.

Elizabeth didn't know why because the order was completely nonsensical, but for some reason, she did what she was told. The tiny candle flame was somehow entrancing. Elizabeth felt she was following this ridiculous command against her better judgment. Against her will.

"You listen to me, Elizabeth," Cassandra said silkily. "You are going to think of nothing but death from now on."

"Death?" Elizabeth said flatly.

"Yes, death," Cassandra confirmed coldly. "I want you to think of nothing but your death, and how you need to prepare yourself. Death is coming after you, Elizabeth."

"Death," Elizabeth said lifelessly, her eyes dark and motionless.

"Yes, once I have left this room, you'll bear no memory of this discussion."

Cassandra promptly snuffed out the flame with her finger tips, and returned the candlestick back to the desk. She strided out and shut Elizabeth into the drawing room.

The matriarch's dark pupils widened. She numbly moved to the couch and robotically sat down.

Death, she thought blankly to herself. I am going to die soon. Very soon. I need to call Richard Garner to rearrange my will, and select a coffin and tomb to rest in.

"Yes, I suppose you can obediently obey that nonsense gibberish of a command, Liz. But I'll be deeply disappointed if you do. You will no longer be the brassy knock out of a dame I loved all my life, and even still do in death."

Elizabeth blinked.

"Is... is someone here?"

"You are Elizabeth Collins Stoddard. You run the finest fishing fleet in all of New England, and you are the mistress of this house. The genuine article. The Liz I knew would've never let some mindless tainted words bewitch her like this. She was a fighter."

That voice was awfully familiar to Elizabeth. She blinked again, and slowly turned her gaze beside her on the couch.

A ghost of a man sat next to her, lounging comfortably with his arms stretched out and his legs crossed. He was the ghost of a middle-aged man. He was of medium build, with short dark hair, blue eyes, and a beard. He looked to be a man from the sea. He was dressed in trousers with a red shirt and a blue blazer. He looked pretty much how Elizabeth knew him when he was alive. The only difference was the ghost was drenched in seawater with seaweed dangling off of him. He acted as though this was pretty natural, like he always looked like this. Fortunately, the man wasn't soaking up the couch or the expensive rug, and creating a mess with his seaweed.

"B-Bill?" Elizabeth breathed softly, adjusting her disbelieving eyes.

Unmistakably, the ghost of Bill Malloy grinned broadly at the matriarch. "Hello, Liz."

"I-I don't understand," Elizabeth stammered, her heart racing. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be dead?"

"I'm just watching over you like I always do," Bill said vaguely.

"You are?" Elizabeth murmured.

"Good ol' Bill Malloy, that's me," said the ghost breezily. "Always loyal and looking out for your best interest."

Elizabeth still didn't know exactly why she was seeing a dead man. She supposed she was really going mad. But she also tried not to allow the sight of him to break her heart all over again. Matthew Morgan had indeed took a very dear friend away from her.

"Bill, are you implying that Cassandra is doing something damaging to me?" Elizabeth found herself asking.

"Not just to you," said Bill. "But to your entire family. You need to protect them, Liz. You are the one in charge."

"David!" Elizabeth gasped, nearly launching herself off the couch. "She just did something to David!"

"That brother of yours sure has a penchant for marrying horrible women, doesn't he?" Bill remarked.

Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of something.

"Barnabas and Dr. Hoffman are coming over for dinner!" she said excitedly. "I need to get ready and to take care of David. Why on earth am I moping around and thinking about death of all things?"

"That's right, Liz. You take charge!" Bill said proudly. "Keep up that attitude, and you'll get rid of that wicked woman in no time."

Elizabeth gazed softly at the ghost. It seemed rather insane for her to be seeing him, but Elizabeth acknowledged it helped her see through Cassandra's blatant ruse with a whole new perspective. She couldn't allow Cassandra to take control of her or her family. She'd just have to worry about her sanity another day.

"Thank you, Bill."

"You're very welcome, Liz," Bill replied graciously. "You should get yourself all dolled up for dinner. That turn-of-the-century hood that's been haunting around here has something in store for our unwelcome house guest."

---

Cassandra disrobed in her and Roger's gothic bathroom on the second story of Collinwood. It was a large luxurious private bathroom decorated in Italian tile floors, with gold painted walls, and elegant stained-glass arch windows. The bathroom came equipped with a marble claw-foot tub, along with a separate stone shower, and a private toilet area. There was also an elegant white wooden vanity, and his and hers marble sinks. An expensive gold framed oval mirror was perched above the sinks. There was even a gold chandelier hung high from the ceiling, which blended naturally with the golden walls.

Cassandra learned from Vicki that most of the water heaters had been functioning properly in various parts of the mansion during much of the day. Something that was drastically denied to Cassandra when she tried to take her shower that morning. She decided to use this opportunity to take a quick shower before the big dinner with Roger, Elizabeth, and Barnabas.

Cassandra found she was greatly anticipating this dinner and Barnabas' presence there. She then immediately, as if recoiling, erased any wayward thoughts she had of her former husband. She deliberately denied inwardly that she conjured them up to begin with. With a heavy sigh, Cassandra turned the shower knobs.

Expecting hot blissful water to rain down on her short dark hair, Cassandra instead had a rough blast of ice cold water stinging her like sharp pebbles. That was just how it happened that morning.

Cassandra shrieked and was viciously displeased. She tasted the water on her lips, and found it was salty and dirty. Very much like the water from the sea.

Before Cassandra could further react, another unpleasant surprise literally hit her. Seaweed blasted violently out of the shower faucet and wildly sprayed all over her.

Cassandra shrieked and frantically rushed out of the shower, drenched in freezing cold salt water with seaweed dangling off her wet skin. She looked very much like a wild savage sea hag. She didn't bother to turn off the water. She instantly dried herself off with a towel and peeled the seaweed off her skin. She shrieked angrily as she did so.

As the water continued to run unassumingly in the shower, Cassandra put on her robe and consulted the gold framed oval mirror to see how much seaweed was in her hair. Cassandra discovered the mirror was fogged up.

She frowned.

How could the mirror possibly be fogged up? Cassandra's shower was miserably surreal and ice cold. There was no steam to fog up the mirror.

Then some lettering began forming on it, accompanied by an ominous squeaking against the glass. The word BOO appeared like an invisible finger wrote it there.

Cassandra sneered and stormed her way out of the bathroom with seaweed clinging tightly to her hair. Once she burst out the door, another surprise slapped her across the face.

A phantom of a woman sat cross-legged on the red velvet rug out in the corridor. The woman wore features identical to Josette, with the signature white flowing gown gracefully curtained around her, complete with matching veil. She was surrounded by little red rose petals that littered all over her lap and all over the rug.

The phantom smiled up cheerily at Cassandra with bright, shiny eyes.

"This can't be!" Cassandra spat, her eyes gleaming in deadly hatred. "I banished you, Josette!"

A tingling chill instantly swept down Cassandra's spine, and in a flash, the Josette phantom, along with her little red rose petals, had vanished.

Cassandra screamed in frustration with her face turning scarlet. She stomped her way down the corridor.

In the bathroom, the shower was still running. Two ghostly voices haunted the cold moist air, swaying the gold chandelier back and forth.

"Rachel, why did you show yourself with rose petals to the witch?" Carl's voice huffed, displeased.

"I thought they were beautiful, Carl," Rachel's voice exclaimed defensively.

"But rose petals are not terrifying!" Carl's voice shot exasperatingly. "The witch wouldn't be frightened of that! "

"I thought they were frightening in a poetic way." Rachel's voice heaved out a deep defeated sigh. "But I suppose you are right. She seemed rather more annoyed than frightened by me."

---

At the Old House, the ghost of Josette found Barnabas peering through the frosty glass of the bay window in the parlor. Silently looking out into the winter night coated in white Christmas lights, Barnabas was dressed in a three-piece double-breasted suit for tonight's dinner at Collinwood.

Barnabas also just finished enduring his latest injections from Julia. Josette heavily knew he was also reeling from the latest nightmares Angelique imposed on him. Josette sensed his distress while he rested in his coffin in the basement. Barnabas was also bitterly disappointed by his failure to dispose of the witch's wretched portrait.

Josette tenderly knew her prisoner needed consoling, but he would not allow himself to commune with his mother and father or the rest of the family. Especially little Sarah.

Barnabas had grown too ashamed to face them since he was permitted to be re-released from his coffin. The aftermath of what he had done to Maggie Evans, and his refusal to allow them to save his soul when they sought to reach out to him when he tried to claim Maggie as his own, weighed heavily on his mind.

Barnabas found himself too deeply guilt-ridden over his monstrous actions.

Josette couldn't help but marvel at how human Barnabas was becoming. But there was still a darkness that remained within him.

Presumably because of that, Barnabas couldn't fully face his deceased loved ones. He could only face Josette and Ben Stokes because they had been touched by his true darkness.

His family had witnessed his darkness as well, and knew what he was capable of. But, Barnabas didn't want to further burden them with it. The family decided to quietly guard him and the Old House in silence and not directly interact with him. Only when it was necessary as Barnabas wished.

At the time, Josette was not certain if Julia's treatments would ultimately vanquish Barnabas' cursed monstrosity. She decided to forbid him from wandering into Collinsport, or to leave the grounds. Barnabas was only permitted to go up to Collinwood to visit the family. Josette knew he would not harm them up there.

She gently floated over to him by the window, her long flowing gown and veil billowing gracefully as always. Her jasmine perfume tickled his nose, and her melody lingered in the air.

"Barnabas?" Josette peered through the window along side her brooding prisoner. She knew he was thinking about the witch.

"There is something troubling my mind." Barnabas didn't gaze at the ghost of his beloved. His dark eyes were still peering through the frosted window.

"Something is always troubling your mind," Josette countered, softly gazing next to him with soft brown eyes.

"I encountered Angelique the other night at the gazebo." Barnabas still had his gaze on the window.

"I'd heard of that," Josette murmured, lowering her gaze. "I have you watched at all times."

"Yes, I know." Barnabas' eyes remain peering through the window.

"What did she say to trouble your mind so greatly?" asked Josette.

"It wasn't much of what she had to say," insisted Barnabas. "It is the matter of if I should consider what she claimed seriously."

"What did she claim?" Josette pressed.

Barnabas briefly hesitated and heaved a deep sigh.

"She strongly insinuated that my family was already cursed and she was not solely responsible." He finally shifted his gaze to his lovely ghost lady. "We were all allegedly cursed before I crossed paths with her in Martinique. Before you and I met."

Josette slowly nodded, and thoughtfully lowered her gaze again in contemplation.

"I probably shouldn't take anything she said about my family's tragedy into any account," said Barnabas.

"Regardless of the circumstances of how the three of us met, it was inexcusable for Angelique to curse any of us." Josette said evenly. "Furthermore, I highly viewed her as a dear friend at one time. She was one of my closest confidants. We really shared a loving friendship."

"Until I entered both of your lives." Barnabas soberly dropped his gaze.

Josette cast him a sad look. Before she could respond to that, Julia stepped into the room wearing a long green dress. She added extra makeup, golden jewelry, and a red silk scarf wrapped warmly around her neck. She seemed to be ready for the Collins dinner.

This was not the most glamorous clothing or finery Josette had seen, but it looked natural on Julia. She looked sophisticated, but Josette wouldn't have suggested it. It didn't seem suited for a formal dinner.

"Are you ready, Barnabas?" Julia asked expectantly, grabbing his attention at the window.

"Yes, Dr. Hoffman," answered Barnabas.

Inwardly, the vampire was not looking forward to having dinner with his loathsome former wife and the family descendents. But he had found he rather enjoyed visiting his kin, even for the sake of appearances. But he needed to figure out how to get rid of Cassandra before her devious vengeful schemes became lethal and deadly.

In spite of that, Barnabas was anxious to see Vicki again. He didn't want Cassandra to harm her.

"Did Millicent and Naomi offer their assistance in your dressing, Dr. Hoffman?" asked Josette.

"Oh, no." Julia shook her head, the tone of her voice light. "I don't permit ghosts to dress me. We should get going, Barnabas."

The vampire went into the foyer and grabbed his cloak-like overcoat from the coat rack and put it on. He then grabbed his silver wolf-head cane.

Julia put on her coat, quickly grabbed her purse, and they departed the Old House. Begrudgingly, Julia treaded through the snow in the cold woods, with her unusual subject trailing closely by her side.

Julia would rather drive up to Collinwood in her car, but Barnabas was vehemently against traveling inside those loud and imposing vehicles. He felt it was deeply disconcerting riding on a unliving and unthinking device that did not require a living, breathing animal to navigate. He stubbornly insisted on trekking through the snow in the dark woods. Julia refrained from griping. Her patient just had to come from another century and be skittish of modern technology, didn't he?

And it had to be a dark moonless night. But the white Christmas lights managed to guide their way through.

Some ten or fifteen minutes later, the massive silhouette of Collinwood welcomely came into view through the tall snow covered tree branches. Julia was relieved. She was beginning to fear her feet might be developing frostbite. High heels were not exactly tracking boots to tread through snow.

They continued treading onward through the snowy earth and finally came up to the front double doors.

Barnabas used the knocker to rapped on them. Roger answered wearing a black suit with a red tie.

"Oh, hello, Barnabas, Dr. Hoffman."

"Hello, Roger," replied Barnabas.

"Hello, Mr. Collins." Julia gladly entered the mansion and welcomed its heating system to warm up her body, especially her toes. Barnabas followed in after her. Roger shut the doors.

"Liz is waiting in the dining room," he said. "Dinner is just about ready. I'll inform Liz you two have arrived."

"Is Miss Winters waiting in there as well?" Barnabas asked him.

Julia noted some hidden hopefulness clinging to his polite voice.

"No, she went out with Burke Devlin for the evening," answered Roger.

Julia also noted Barnabas tried to refrain from etching a deeply disappointed look on his face.

"I'll inform Liz of your arrivals." Roger headed for the back door by the staircase in the foyer, where the kitchen and the dining room were located.

Barnabas and Julia took off their coats, and hung them, along with Barnabas' wolf-head cane, on the coat rack by the front doors.

Julia dug into her purse to retrieve her compact to check on her makeup. She wanted to make sure her trek through the snowy woods hadn't smeared anything. While examining her face, Julia noticed some tiny movement from the left side of the reflective mirror.

Barnabas stood to her left by his first portrait on the wall, waiting patiently to be called.

Julia silently turned the little compact mirror in Barnabas' direction without him knowing. She nearly gasped. Barnabas cast a reflection. Julia was astounded. Just yesterday evening, Barnabas cast no reflection when Julia displayed a small hand mirror in front of him to see if there was any result to her latest treatments. Now, however, he did cast a reflection.

Julia was incredibly ecstatic. Her lifelong work and impossible experiments had finally paid off. But before she could further revel over her tremendous breakthrough, Cassandra stepped out into the foyer in a black sleeveless evening dress that complemented her dark hair and smooth skin.

"Hello, Barnabas," she said. "It's nice seeing you again."

"Likewise." Barnabas nodded to her chivalrously.

Julia supposed she shouldn't be too surprised that the witch didn't address her in any way. She certainly only had eyes for Barnabas.

---

After returning to the Evans cottage from Collinwood, Willie took a quick shower to wash away all the dust and grime from the West Wing demolition, while Maggie found a note from her pop on the coffee table in the living room.

It explained he went out in search of some snowy New England landscapes to see if he wanted to capture any for his canvases. Maggie noted that one of his easels and a few blank canvases, along with some paints and paint brushes, were gone.

She gazed at the bay window at her father's work area. It had become very dark and pretty frigid outside.

Maggie sighed. She hoped her pop would come home soon. But she wouldn't be here to greet him when he did.

Maggie had to get ready for her and Willie's double date with Vicki and Burke at the Blue Whale. Something Sam already knew about.

As she got ready in her bedroom, Maggie tried in vain to forget about the disappointment of failing to dispose of Angelique's bizarre and hypnotic portrait, as well as the weirdness in getting it out of Collinwood for everyone's well-being.

She also tried to forget the revulsion she felt for actually trooping over to the Old House, a place she still had nightmares about, to give Barnabas actual reports of the happenings at Collinwood. That made Maggie feel sick to her stomach. She knew she agreed for Barnabas to have his treatments, but how did she wind up being his servant?

But she must admit it was nice to see Josette again. Maggie found it interesting that her ghostly doppelgänger genuinely seemed to want her and Willie to have a good time with they're "courting."

Maggie doubted she could easily forget her problems with a snap of an incorporeal finger, but she decided to at least attempt to for just a little while.

Changing out of her blue dress, Maggie slipped on black stockings with a matching skirt that flirted down to her knees. She then put on a red winter sweater, and shiny red go-go boots. She tied a red ribbon on the back of her shoulder-length auburn hair, and fixed her makeup at her vanity.

When she was ready, she found a spruced up Willie waiting for her in the living room by the Christmas tree in a clean pair of jeans and a red turtleneck. He smelt heavily of cologne, and his sandy hair was nicely combed. He silently admired his dolled up girlfriend.

Maggie, however, was still a little worried that Sam hadn't returned home yet. But she and Willie put on their coats, and were out the door.

It was a slick drive to the Blue Whale. When they arrived at the tavern, they gracelessly maneuvered hand-in-hand across the slippery docks by the cold darkened sea. When they entered inside, they found Burke and Vicki waiting for them at a table not far from the bar.

Burke had on one of his usual gray business suits, while Vicki wore a long-sleeved black dress with a black silk ribbon tied around her dark locks.

Maggie spotted a man sitting at one of the back tables. He was quietly keeping to himself reading a book, which he seemed to be engrossed with. Maggie had never seen this man before. He was middle-aged and portly, with bushy gray hair with a matching beard and eyebrows. He wore spectacles, and a shabby suit with a gray tie. Maggie paid him no real attention.

She also noticed that the bartender Punchy hung some red and green Christmas lights and yellow garland around the joint, which clashed dramatically with much of the nautical décor of the tavern. (A wreath was also hung out on the door.)

Aside from five people and Punchy, the Blue Whale was pretty sparse. With one of the tavern's signature guitar chords lightly pouring out of the jukebox, and the ever recognizable stench of cigarettes, booze, and sea air mingling freely, Willie and Maggie took off their coats, hung them behind their chairs, and joined Vicki and Burke at the table.

"Well, hello," Maggie said in her usual genial way as she and Willie sat across from them.

"Hi," replied Burke. "Nice that you two are able to join us this evening."

"It's really nice of you to lend in some extra help at Collinwood," Vicki told Maggie graciously. "How do you like working there so far?"

Maggie tried desperately to think up an appropriate answer.

"It's all right, Maggie." Vicki laughed lightly. "I know that place gives you the creeps. I definitely thought so, too, when I started working there."

"I'm not surprised," Maggie muttered. "Everything about it is dark and gloomy."

"It is especially creepy at night," Vicki recalled. "I always felt there were ghosts haunting around there, particularly Josette. But I'm pretty much used to living there now. I'm excited about our plans for the West Wing. It looks like it's actually coming together."

"Yes, I'm certainly looking forward to checking out of the Collinsport Inn." Burke sighed longingly. "It's just no longer the same without Maggie serving me breakfast at the diner anymore."

Maggie chuckled.

"But enough about the West Wing," said Burke. "Why don't you two tell a little something about yourselves. What do you enjoy doing together?"

Willie and Maggie were certainly not prepared for that personal question.

"Well, we spend a lot of time with pop," Maggie exclaimed sheepishly.

"And we go to work together," Willie added, every bit as awkwardly. He felt hopelessly out of place. He'd never been on a double date before. He was just pretty much used to being alone with a girl.

"And we go to Bangor when we can," said Maggie.

But those were not their most favorite things to do. They enjoyed snuggling the most. It was something that became increasingly comforting for both of them after suffering through their shared hell. That time at the Old House was how they truly found each other. Maggie never felt as safe as when she was nestled next to Willie, and she'd never experienced that kind of intimacy with anyone before. But that was just too personal to share with Vicki and Burke, and they must never reveal how they truly found each other. And it seemed unlikely Vicki and Burke would get their love for cinnamon rolls and their profound fondness for the bakery.

Maggie decided to shift the conversation.

"So, how about you two?" she asked. "What do you enjoy doing together?"

"At the moment, planning our future," Burke answered comfortably. "At first I wasn't entirely keen on living in the West Wing, but I've now warmed up to it. I understand Vicki needs to look out for David. But, eventually, we'll move out and get a place of our own."

"How about you two?" asked Vicki. "Do you have any future plans?"

Maggie found herself being pleasantly surprised by that question. In spite of a witch and a vampire running their lives, she and Willie had discussed some plans for their future.

"I'm gonna build us a cottage," Willie said suddenly.

Maggie gawked at him silently. He'd never told her that. But she was rather in awe of this unexpected announcement.

"That is very ambitious of you, Willie," Burke said impressed. "You seem very confident in your new career of resurrecting old houses."

"Oh, yes." Willie nodded with a very pleased look on his face. "It's a-all f-for M-Maggie. I r-really want t-to make h-her h-happy."

Maggie smiled next to him, but she noted he sounded very much like a timid servant for a vampire. They needed to work on that.

"Well, with plans like that, it sounds like you two are hearing wedding bells as well," Burke said intrigued.

Both Willie and Maggie swallowed nervously. Maggie hastily took control of the conversation again.

"We also discussed traveling," she said. "Willie told me he likes Singapore, and I would love to go there with him."

"That is quite a place," Burke concurred. "I did some business there about two years ago."

"Willie said I can also pick a place to go," Maggie said brightly.

"Paris?" guessed Vicki with raised brows.

"I haven't really decided yet," Maggie admitted.

"Martinique," Burke suggested eagerly. "Gorgeous place for a visit."

Willie looked at him mortified.

"What?" Burke said mystified.

Maggie chuckled nervously, and said, "Oh, I don't think so, Burke."

"Well, okay." Burke shrugged, even more confused. "Island paradises not a big interest for you two?"

"I wouldn't say that exactly," said Maggie.

"I was wondering," Vicki decided to change the subject. "How did you two meet? I mean, I know it was before... well."

"It's all right, Vicki." Maggie patted the governess' hands across the table reassuringly. "We did meet before my kidnapping. And in a wild coincidence, we actually met here. It even happened at this table, I believe."

"Wow," Burke said amazed.

"That was back when I was different." Willie remorsefully dropped his gaze on the table.

Vicki nodded knowingly. She and Carolyn knew painfully well of the vulgar predator Willie was before he found employment with Barnabas Collins. He was a disgusting punk who Vicki had no desire to see again. And Willie didn't treat Maggie any differently before Barnabas, either.

He tried to buy her a drink and rudely intruded on this very table when she was waiting for Joe. He made her feel cheap, flung harsh insults at Joe when he eventually arrived, and was ultimately dragged away by Jason McGuire. It was far from love at first sight, and at the time, Willie had no idea that Maggie would go on to change everything for him. And to share in the hell that was Barnabas Collins. With the way Maggie was keeping silent, she had no desire to share in this anecdote, or to see that side of Willie again.

"Well, Willie, it seems that you and I have something in common," said Burke.

"We're both ex-cons?" Willie guessed unsurely.

"No, I was never a con man," Burke retorted indignantly. "No, what I meant was we were both completely different men when we came here. I was a different person when Vicki and I met."

"He's right, Willie," Vicki exclaimed. "When we met on the train, it wasn't exactly love at first sight."

"I was a bitter, angry man seeking revenge against her employers," said Burke. "But there's something about Collinsport that made us change. Hopefully for the better."

Willie listened to his words intently. He wondered what kind of torment Burke had endured to welcome humility into his soul. He also wondered how Burke landed himself a nice pretty chick in the deal as well.

---

At the Old House, Josette had her meeting assembled in the candle lit parlor with some of the ghosts of the Collins ancestors. She sat in her usual spot in her portrait hung high above the mantel, with a warming fire burning in the hearth.

She looked around the room levelly.

The corporeal forms of Naomi and Natalie stood by the peeling pink pillars of the room's entrance, while the transparent Millicent sat pouting on Barnabas' armchair by the fire with her arms tightly folded. Her uncle Joshua and her brother Daniel kept a close guard on her.

Daniel was only a boy when Angelique cursed the family, but here, he showed himself as a young man who was lean and handsome, with brown hair and matching eyes. During much of Millicent's lifetime, Daniel had taken care of her due to her fragile condition. Joshua had also taken care of her after he had her disgrace of a marriage annulled. Even in death, both Joshua and Daniel strongly felt they must look after and protect her. That was something Millicent vastly didn't appreciate. It made her feel like a child. But nevertheless, Millicent was properly scolded for possessing one of the Collins descendents, and haunting the witch's servant. But Millicent still couldn't muster up the courage to fight for Mr. Haskell's well-being.

There was much chatter amongst the ghosts over Millicent's actions at Collinwood, something that resulted in great panic. Joshua and Daniel ordered her to stay away from Joe Haskell. Reeling, Millicent sat sulking on the armchair not saying a word.

Also present was Ben Stokes, who stood loyally by the fire beneath Josette's portrait. Josette wanted him at the meeting because she had a very important job for him.

"The ghosts of Collinwood are doing everything within their power to protect the family from the witch," stated the grizzled Joshua. "But the witch's supernatural powers are indeed strong. She will ultimately retaliate. It is inevitable."

"I wish Carl Collins had a more advanced method for combating her," Naomi sniffed. "As opposed to these silly games."

"It was rather foolish for all of us to believe that disposing of the witch's portrait would easily banish her," Natalie said dishearteningly.

"Not all is lost aunt Natalie," Josette said optimistically from her portrait. "We will banish her from Collinwood."

"And I know just the way to do it." A masculine voice filtered unwelcomely into the room.

The ghosts glanced at the window, and there stood the strong corporeal presence of Nathan Forbes in his ever blue Naval uniform with its matching cape.

"Lt. Forbes," Ben growled by the fire, his eyes glaring sharply.

"It is an utter disgrace for you to show yourself in this home," Joshua shot at him disgusted. "And in front of Millicent."

Millicent didn't say a word from the chair. Her arms remained folded. She haughtily refused to acknowledge the presence of her deceptive former husband.

"Get out of this house," Daniel sneered, hovering protectively over his dear sister.

"Neither of you are interested in hearing my proposal?" Nathan asked the room sheepishly from the window. He raised a single eyebrow. "Even in helping this family?"

"Your proposal to help this family was every bit as rubbish when you asked for Millicent's hand in marriage," Naomi retorted.

"Get outta here, Forbes!" Ben shouted gruffly.

"Now, now, this family is too self absorbed," Nathan said cockily.

"We are getting this from you?" Daniel sneered. "You married my sister for her money!"

"You were only a boy when I married your sister, Daniel," Nathan countered. "It is unlikely that you understood the true intent of our relationship."

"Why are you here, Lieutenant?" Josette cut in assertively from her portrait.

"To offer my proposal for getting rid of the witch," Nathan proclaimed.

"And what is your proposal?" Josette said curtly.

"For someone to hunt her down and send her back to hell," answered Nathan. "I propose we release the ghost of the Reverend Trask from his prison."

Joshua and Ben were appalled by this proposal.

"That is unacceptable, Lieutenant," Josette said dismissively.

"But he was a witch hunter, was he not?" Nathan argued.

"He accused an innocent woman of witchcraft and sent her to trial," Natalie reminded bitterly.

"But wasn't that a result of trickery from the actual witch?" Nathan challenged. "And the curse she cast on this family?"

"Ya testify against poor Phyllis Wick!" Ben thundered furiously.

"A wrong that desperately needs to be set right," Nathan agreed coolly.

"Why do you want to involve yourself in this, Lieutenant?" Josette demanded in a no-nonsense manner.

"I myself was a victim of this curse," Nathan insisted as he strode away from the window with his cape billowing behind him.

"Mr. Barnabas was highly justified in stranglin' ya," Ben spat fiercely.

"Reverend Trask is certainly powerful enough to confront the witch," Nathan said smoothly, ignoring Ben's retort.

He marched up to the center of the room like a well trained solider, and faced directly in front of Josette's portrait.

"Granted, he accused the wrong woman," he conceded. "But didn't Joshua Collins and the Countess also suspect Miss Wick as the culprit?"

"I tried to prevent her execution," Joshua murmured sorrowfully, dropping a somber gaze.

"I was wrong about her," Natalie admitted, just as sorrowful, with her gaze downward. "But it is absolutely mad to release that foul reverend from his imprisonment."

"She is right," Josette said from her portrait. "If we set him free, he will go after Barnabas."

"Maybe he deserves it," Nathan stated brazenly.

Josette darkened her gaze at him.

"Barnabas did murder him," Nathan said pointedly, staring around the room consistently. "Did any of you think of the possibility that your loyalty to Barnabas Collins just might be a little misguided?"

The ghosts glared at him fumingly.

"Now I may have deserved my demise at his hands," Nathan stated. "But let us not forget he murdered innocent people. Including my wife, Suki." He pointed a sharp finger at Ben. "He turned you into a slave."

"Mr. Barnabas is the most loyal friend I ever had!" Ben snapped.

Ignoring the servant once more, Nathan swung his shrewd gaze at his former wife in the vampire's armchair. "He tried to do the same to you, Millicent."

At his words, Millicent averted her eyes submissively.

Nathan then glanced up at the portrait above the mantel. "And you, Josette. He tried to transform you into something every bit as monstrous as he is."

"Barnabas is not a monster," Josette countered steadily. "Angelique is the one who did that to him. He killed those poor souls as a result of a conniving witch. As oppose to yourself who hurt this family to suit your own purpose and selfish greed. Barnabas Collins is a good man, Lieutenant. I never questioned that. And I never will. No words from the likes of you shall persuade me otherwise. I am going to lift his curse. Reverend Trask shall not be released from his prison."

Millicent found herself slowly rising up from the armchair and floated high in the air. She glared down heatedly at her arrogant former husband.

"You are not welcome here, Lt. Forbes," she said emotionally. "Never show yourself here again!"

"Ya heard her!" snapped Ben.

Nathan glanced up at Millicent sharply.

"Millicent, I know you think I am right," he said.

The louse Lieutenant faded in a shimmer of inky blurs and drifted away from the parlor.

"Well, it is nice for the rubbish to be taken out," Joshua remarked primly. "But the witch is still a great burden to us, I'm afraid."

"I'm already conjuring up a plan," Josette exclaimed. "When the Phoenix was here, I altered her portrait to help expose her true self. Angelique's true self shall be exposed in her own portrait."

The ghostly mistress dropped her gaze to Ben.

"I need your help."

"Aye." Ben nodded solemnly.

Given his own torturous treatment by the witch, Ben was more than willing to extract his own bloody revenge.

---

"She may be wearing a little black number, but you are the most gorgeous woman at this table, Liz."

Elizabeth smiled secretly to herself as Bill Malloy's complementing words whispered into her ear. She certainly felt beautiful as she got ready for dinner. She let her long dark hair fall freely to her shoulders in soft curls, and wore little makeup. Just some blush and red lipstick that complemented her creamy complexion and her red silk dress.

"You are definitely the actual queen of this gothic castle."

Elizabeth took a bite of her lobster as Bill's latest complement sank in. If this was what it felt like to be driven into madness, it was certainly empowering.

Elizabeth, along with Roger, Cassandra, Barnabas, and Julia, gathered at the long table in the dining room. This was the first time Elizabeth and Roger had a meal in this dark lonely room in eighteen years, around the time when Paul Stoddard left. After that unfortunate incident, Elizabeth became disinterested in throwing dinner parties and hosting social gatherings. The family much preferred taking their meals in the kitchen, thus leaving the dining room to endure nearly twenty years of neglect.

It was a sizable room with dark elaborate paneled walls that were similar to many other gloomy rooms in this house, complete with ancestral portraits adorning them. A bronze chandelier hung high above the table, and the arch windows were decorated in festive Christmas wreaths.

Elizabeth sat at the head of the table, while Roger sat opposite her. Cassandra sat close by him, hoping she didn't look too disheveled due to her inability to bathe. She just managed to wash herself with some rose water before Barnabas arrived, and applied plenty of perfume to mask any undesirable odors.

Barnabas and Julia sat together across from Cassandra.

The party dined on lobster, shrimp pasta, and biscuits for their meal, served on the family's finest Christmas China.

"We are hoping to throw the Christmas party this weekend," Roger filled in, as he dipped his biscuit into some melted butter. "The caterers should have the Great Hall prepared by then."

"I am greatly anticipating for this whole ordeal to be over," Elizabeth stated bluntly.

"Oh, Liz, where is your Christmas spirit?" Roger drawled. "You don't have to be such a sourpuss. After two long decades you have received a new lease on life. You ought to be celebrating."

"I intend to celebrate my life as I see fit, Roger," Elizabeth insisted stubbornly.

"I think this party is a marvelous idea," Barnabas interjected civilly. "Who would you be inviting, Roger?"

"Oh, just some workers at the cannery and the fishing fleet," said Roger. "As well as their families, and some personal friends, and local business owners. And you and Dr. Hoffman, of course."

"It's rather a shame that Carolyn and young David are much too ill to be joining us this evening," Barnabas said sympathetically. "I sincerely hope they'll be well for the party."

"I have great confidence in Carolyn," said Roger. "She is far too tenacious to miss it."

"Are you looking forward to the party, Cassandra?" Barnabas asked across from her.

"Well, of course," Cassandra insisted lightly.

Julia didn't know how much longer she could take all of this meaningless chit-chat. She just made the most important discovery in all of her pursuit of supernatural medicine. She would like nothing more than to drag her patient back to the Old House to conduct more experiments on him. Furthermore, Julia had grown increasingly tired of the secret resentful glances Barnabas and Cassandra shot consistently at each other.

Barnabas wasn't having much fun with the dinner, either. He found it less enjoyable in Vicki's absence.

Barnabas further felt sick of Cassandra's conniving marriage to Roger, someone who disturbingly resembled his own father. He had protested Barnabas' own marriage to Angelique all those centuries ago. The vampire instantly recoiled and quickly shoved aside any shuddering thoughts.

He was glad when the meal was finally done with. He managed to cut more of the banal family chatter short in favor of retiring back to the Old House.

He hugged Elizabeth and told her good night, shook Roger's hand, and gallantly placed a small kiss on the back of Cassandra's hand. For reasons still disturbing and perplexing to him, an electrical spark connected between them when he placed his lips upon her hand.

That made Barnabas want to retreat back to the Old House even more.

When Barnabas and Julia finally returned there and hung up their coats, Barnabas was still ill at ease.

"I don't know how much longer I can bear her," he murmured, as they stepped into the deserted parlor.

"Oh, I thought we'd never get out of there." Julia sighed, as she dangled her purse. "But I finally got exciting news. You are becoming a man."

"Becoming a man?" Barnabas squinted his eyes at her skeptically. "Whatever do you mean, doctor?"

Julia retrieved her compact from her purse and flashed the tiny mirror at her subject.

"Look, Barnabas, you cast a reflection," she said anxiously.

"What?" Barnabas looked deeper into the tiny mirror.

He found it almost impossible to believe. He was actually gazing at his own features. A familiar and unbelievable sight he hadn't seen in centuries. His refined oval face hadn't changed a bit, and neither had his dark eyes or his sleek black hair.

"We need to perform more tests, Barnabas," Julia said urgently.

But Barnabas' mind became clouded. He was afraid to almost think it. Was he actually overcoming Angelique and her dreaded curse?

---

"Ya caused a prison riot, Devlin?"

At the Blue Whale, Willie looked at Burke in total dismay.

"Well, I had a lot of pent up anger," Burke explained lightly. "I was quite miffed at the Collinses for cheating the system and locking me up. I needed to blow off some steam somehow."

"Yeah." Willie nodded understandingly.

He certainly knew that feeling.

"But I learned to behave myself and put all of that behind me," said Burke. "At least I didn't break myself out like you and McGuire did in Italy."

As the two men took swigs of their beer, Maggie and Vicki threw each other some heavy long looks across the table. They had know idea how the conversation veered to Willie and Burke exchanging prison stories, and the two young women didn't know how to insert themselves into the conversation. Quite frankly, they were deeply uncertain if they even wanted to. (And Maggie glumly realized she couldn't choose Italy as her destination of choice when she eventually traveled with Willie, along with New Zealand and Portugal.)

The door at the entrance blew open, and Maggie was surprised to see who had stepped in from the cold; her pop and Dr. Woodard.

"Excuse me." Maggie politely got up from the table and rushed over to her father. "Pop, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling," Sam muttered, shivering into his heavy brown coat. "I'd completely forgotten that you and Willie had a date here. Dave invited me over for some drinks, and I guess I wasn't thinking."

"That's all right." Maggie smiled earnestly. "You can stay, pop. Hello, Dr. Woodard."

"Hello, Maggie," Dr. Woodard replied.

"Dave and I will sit in the back," Sam assured his daughter. "You can get back to your date."

"All right."

Maggie returned to the table, feeling relieved that Sam had returned unharmed from his artist wanderings. She would keep a close eye on him.

Sam ordered Dr. Woodard and himself some drinks and sat at one of the back tables, close to where the unknown stranger sat reading his book. Aside from themselves, the stranger, and the quartet of two young couples, Sam noted that the Blue Whale was its usual uneventful self.

"Still worried about Maggie?" Dr. Woodard took a sip of his drink.

Sam silently gazed at his daughter at her table, then glanced back to his old friend.

"I know she wants me to remember that she's a grown woman," Sam muttered. "But I just can't forget that supernatural forces are controlling Collinwood, and it keeps taking my daughter away from me."

At his table, the stranger raised his gaze from his book. His eyes darted to Sam and Dr. Woodard.

"Are there any developments with Barnabas and this Cassandra woman?" Dr. Woodard inquired of Sam.

"I don't know, I haven't properly spoken to Maggie since I visited her at Collinwood this afternoon," said Sam.

The stranger snapped his book shut with his black glove-covered hands. He stood up from his table.

"I beg your pardon," he politely interrupted as he stepped up to their table. "I don't mean to intrude, but I am new in town, and I can't help but overhear. Were you two gentlemen discussing Collinwood by any chance?" He spoke in a very cultured foreign accent.

"Yeah, it's the most famous house in our town," Sam exclaimed as he squinted up at him.

"Oh, I am very well aware," said the stranger with a wide grin. "I specialize in the study of old ancestral New England estates. It is a hobby of mine, and Collinwood is one of the most famous in the area, if not the most famous."

"Are you here to see it?" Dr. Woodard asked curiously. "Because if you are, I must warn you, the Collinses are very..."

"...eccentric," finished the stranger. "Yes, Collinwood is a very unusual structure, as well as the people living within its walls throughout the generations."

"What is your name?" asked Dr. Woodard.

"Oh, my name is Fenn-Gibbon," replied the stranger. "Victor Fenn-Gibbon."

"Welcome to Collinsport," said Sam. "Care to join us?"

"Oh, I'd be delighted to." Victor Fenn-Gibbon accepted their invitation.

"I'm so glad Barnabas is back," Vicki told Willie and Maggie at their table.

"Have you been seeing Barnabas?" Maggie asked her friend softly with concern clouding her eyes.

"I visited him at the Old House," Vicki exclaimed. "He knows so much about the Collins family history. He actually owned a music box that belonged to Josette Collins, and he gave it to me as a Christmas gift."

"What?!" Maggie gasped, hoping she didn't display any horror on her face.

"Yes." Vicki gave her friend a confounded look. "Is there something the matter, Maggie?"

"Oh, no." Maggie quickly shook her head, inwardly disgusted that she was forbidden to warn her friend of the danger she was in. "It sounds like a lovely gift."

"Yes," Vicki agreed. "I swear there are times that man is actually from the past and he personally knew Josette."

Willie would've smirked at that comment if he wasn't so horrified by what he'd just heard. Did Vicki know something about Barnabas? Perhaps not likely.

"That was nice of him for giving Vicki the music box," said Burke.

"Yes, I love it." Vicki smiled.

"How about I play a soft song on the jukebox," Burke suggested to his gleaming fiancée. "We can waltz on the dance floor."

"All right," Vicki accepted.

"You two care to dance along with us?" Burke asked Willie and Maggie. "After all, Maggie, you have on your go-go boots."

Willie didn't know what to do. He and Maggie had danced on a few dates, but he always clumsily stepped on her feet. To his relief, Maggie told Burke, "Um, I think we'll sit this one out. We'll wait here."

"Suit yourself." Burke shrugged.

He and Vicki crossed to the jukebox hand-in-hand, selecting a song from its modest catalog.

"I can't believe this is happenin' again." Willie miserably squeezed shut his eyes. His whimpering voice was low and very tortured.

"Barnabas is going to get his treatments and leave town," Maggie told him as she gently patted his back. "I won't let him hurt Vicki."

"What I don't get is why he's chasin' after her when he still loves Josette," said Willie.

"And Josette loves him," Maggie added resolutely. "And I know she helped Vicki when she got kidnapped by Matthew Morgan. I know Josette won't let anything bad happen to her."

"Y'do?" Willie looked at her hopefully.

"Yes, we won't let Barnabas hurt people ever again," Maggie vowed. "And I know that's not what Josette wants, either, after all she did for us and to him."

"Yeah, but I don't like him givin' Vicki the music box," Willie murmured worryingly.

Maggie tried not to wince. Barnabas forced her to listen to that wretched thing when he was holding her captive and tried to transform her into his lost love. Over time, Maggie viewed that melodic object as a painful torture device. It hurt that her friend received it as a gift, and viewed it as a lovely gesture.

"I don't like it, either," Maggie told Willie. "But I'll look after Vicki. For now, how about you buy us a drink?"

She smiled playfully and lightly bumped his shoulder with hers. That seemed to slightly raise his tormented spirits.

"O-Okay." Willie left Maggie at the table, and strolled over to the bar.

Burke and Vicki finally selected a slow song from the jukebox and swayed together closely on the dance floor.

"So, what do you think Maggie sees in Willie Loomis?" Burke whispered bluntly. "I mean, I know some of you girls are into the sensitive types."

"I honestly think they were thrown together," said Vicki, "and they can't let each other go."

"Do you think her kidnapping had something to do with that?" queried Burke.

"Perhaps," Vicki said with a nod. "Hopefully, over time, Maggie will learn to trust and be more open about what she suffered through."

Burke glanced over Vicki's shoulder, and saw Sam and Dr. Woodard engaging in a light conversation with that stranger at their table.

"For the time being, we all should be grateful that Maggie is alive and spending Christmas with Sam," Burke muttered.

"Burke," Vicki murmured over his shoulder. "I wasn't exactly kidding when I said that I think Barnabas Collins is from the past."

Burke looked at her stunned. "What do you mean?"

"I feel there is something truly different about him," Vicki exclaimed. "He acts strangely and he knows so many obscure things about the past and Collinwood. I think there is more to him than he lets on."

"More than just being eccentric," Burke wanted her to clarify.

"I believe so," answered Vicki.

"I agree," said Burke.

"I'm not implying that this makes him bad," said Vicki. "He's been a good friend to me."

"I know." Burke gently squeezed her hand as they continued to dance slowly. "But you can't blame me for wanting to look after you."

"I know," Vicki said softly.

At the table, Maggie quietly watched her friend slow dance with her fiancé, and observed her father and Dr. Woodard chatting with the stranger at their table. Maggie grinned. Her father certainly had a flare for befriending total strangers in bars.

Maggie received a tap on her shoulder. She glanced up and saw Punchy looking down on her with a stinky cigar in hand.

"Hey, Maggie," he grumbled. "That guy at the bar wants to buy you a drink."

Puzzled, Maggie glanced over to the bar where Willie sat on one of the stools grinning slyly at her. She smiled broadly and quickly understood. Willie was trying to re-create their first meeting, only in a much more ideal scenario, and with a far more ideal Willie. This made Maggie feel oddly nostalgic. She decided to play along.

"Tell that guy I guess I'll let him buy me a drink," Maggie told Punchy in an amused smile.

Punchy dutifully nodded, and headed back behind the bar.

---

Joe sat cozily beside the fire with his young cousin Amy in a rustic dingy cabin on the grounds of Collinwood. The cabin used to belong to the Collinses last handyman, the notorious Matthew Morgan.

Tom and Amy Jennings now resided there since Tom became the new handyman the week before. He pretty much received this cottage on a silver platter, but it wasn't really an ideal place to bring up his kid sister.

The cabin was humbly modest and only came with one bedroom and a tiny bathroom. The rest of the cabin was pretty much a living room and a kitchen rolled up into one, with a couch and a nook consisting as the only furniture. The large fireplace was the only source of heat. There was also some cabinets, a refrigerator, and an old wood burning stove that Tom had no idea how to use.

Because of that, Tom opted to have Joe bring home some burgers for dinner.

At nights, Amy slept in the only bedroom on the small bed, while Tom occupied the couch that always made his neck stiff. He most definitely viewed this place as a temporary residence. He desperately needed a bigger place to have his own bedroom with his own bed. He hoped doing extra work for the Collinses would earn him enough money to afford that soon enough.

For now, this tiny log cabin would just have to do.

He needed to concentrate on planning a serviceable Christmas for Amy. She was still devastated over the untimely death of their parents, and she wasn't really looking forward to Christmas. Tom hoped to drastically change that. He planned to surprise her with a small Christmas tree in a few days, and to get more of the family involved. Their cousin Joe had been wonderful company so far. But, Tom would like to persuade his troubled twin brother to participate, in spite of him being an unsociable hermit.

Joe glanced up at his cousin from his spot beside the fire. As if he could read his mind, he asked, "Hey, have you contacted Chris, yet?"

"Uh, not yet," Tom answered evasively, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

He sat himself down on the couch.

"Joe, what is David Collins really like?" Amy queried her cousin curiously. The glow of the fire shadowed her face, and leaping shadows from the furniture also cloaked the room.

"David?" Joe thought carefully of her query. "Well, he's a nice enough kid once you get to know him."

"I heard all kinds of things about him from the kids at school," Amy exclaimed wide-eyed.

"What kind of things?" Joe asked her closely.

"Well, he keeps to himself and talks to ghosts," said Amy anxiously. "He also likes to lure his governess into death traps. One time, he spit out a voodoo curse at his father. He even sneaks into other people's bedrooms just to see if they turned into ghosts yet."

Joe chuckled amused, and insisted, "David had his difficulties, but I wouldn't take what the kids at school say too seriously. They're over exaggerating."

"He seemed nice when he said hi to me today," Amy conceded.

"See," Joe said encouragingly.

"But Collinwood sure looks spooky and haunted," said Amy. "I wouldn't be surprise if David did see ghosts. Does the West Wing look haunted to you, Tom?"

"It's a spooky place," Tom admitted. "Now, you should brush your teeth and get ready for bed, kiddo."

"Do I have to?" Amy groaned.

"Yes, you have school tomorrow," Tom said strictly.

Amy reluctantly got to her feet, and grumbled, "Okay." She stomped over to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

As she brushed her teeth in the next room, Tom told Joe lowly from the couch, "Hey, I don't think it's a good idea to encourage Amy to befriend David Collins. I've heard some things about that kid, too, and he sounds pretty troubled."

"What have you heard?" Joe asked him by the fire.

"He allegedly tampered with the brakes of his father's car," said Tom, "torments his governess, and got into some trouble with his mother. Something about him watching her burn in a fishing shack."

"As I said, David had his difficulties," said Joe. "But he's really a nice kid. Amy might be good for him. He has no real kids to play with."

"I just don't want him to scare her," Tom said protectively. "Especially with his morbid fascination with ghosts."

Joe nodded understandingly, and an unsteady silence fell between them.

"Is there something on your mind, Joe?" Tom broke their silence. "You didn't really say much during dinner."

Joe ran a hand through his dark hair, and blankly stared into the flames in the hearth. It reminded him of a dancing candle flame. "Oh, I'm just thinking about someone."

"Carolyn is going to be okay, isn't she?" Tom asked in concern from the couch.

"What?" Joe said distractedly, looking up from the flames. "Oh, yes. Carolyn will be fine."

"Then who's on your mind?" asked Tom, baffled over Joe's absentmindedness.

Joe was thinking about his mistress and what he sensed about her. He knew he had to do her bidding with no questions asked, but he couldn't help but wonder if she was some lost heartbroken soul. He was also curious how she knew two ghosts. But he knew he shouldn't ponder that too heavily. He must serve her first and foremost.

"Just someone from the cannery," Joe lied with a shrug.

Before Tom could further question him on this, Amy emerged from the bathroom.

Joe was prompted to get up to his feet and turned away from the warm hearth. "Well, I better turn in," he grunted, as he stretched out his arms. "I got work tomorrow."

"Good night, Joe," Amy uttered.

"Yes, good night, Joe," Tom said wearily as he got up from the couch.

"Good night." Joe put on his heavy green coat. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"All right," said Tom, as he came over to Amy and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Joe went out the door. Out in the crisp night air, the white Christmas lights Joe helped to set up sparkled throughout the estate like loose sprites. Trudging through the snow in his heavy boots, Joe got inside his blue pickup truck and sat in the driver's seat.

Shutting the door, a small voice murmured out in the confined shadows, "Mr. Haskell?"

Joe started.

The wispy ghost who resembled Carolyn sat on the passenger side in a ladylike manner with her hands neatly folded over her lap. Her faint white glow slightly lit up the inside of the truck.

"I've come to apologize," she said meekly. "I feel terrible for terrifying you when possessing your companion. I sincerely wanted to help you."

Joe looked at her wordlessly. He found it unbelievable he was still being haunted by this ghost. But was she really a ghost as his mistress claimed? Or was he losing his mind?

"I wish I knew how to help you," she said woefully. "But I shall vanish now before Josette and my family learn I have been haunting you again. I'll surely receive a heavy scolding."

"Wait a minute." Joe tried to prevent her from leaving. "Did you say Josette? As in Josette Collins?"

"Why, yes." Millicent nodded.

Maybe we can use this to our advantage against Josette, Joe's mistress devious scheme echoed sinisterly inside his mind.

"Wait, before you go," Joe said hastily, irrationally reacting to the inward order. "I've been thinking. Thinking about the strange turns my life has taken lately. I believe you are right. Mrs. Collins is controlling me somehow."

Millicent cast him a most hopeful look. "Y-You honestly believe me?"

"Yeah, I-I guess I do." Joe slowly dropped his gaze to the steering wheel.

He couldn't decide if he felt guilty for manipulating an apparition of all things. An apparition that seemed to genuinely care for him and his well-being. Maybe he was losing his mind.

"Then allow me to help you," Millicent pleaded.

"I don't even know your name." Joe shifted his gaze back to her.

"I am Millicent Collins," she answered in her girlish giggle.

Joe nodded. So that was her name. He vaguely recalled David referring to a Millicent Collins once when he was rummaging through his family history books in the study.

"I'll greatly come to your aid, Mr. Haskell," Millicent said determinedly.

"Please, call me Joe," he insisted of her.

"Joe?" Millicent tested his common name on her dead lips.

"Yes, Joe," he said preferably.

Millicent smiled. "Very well, Joe. I shall retire to the Old House. I rather dislike being in these coaches with no horses pulling them."

"All right, Millicent," Joe said politely. "I hope to see you soon."

Millicent smiled brightly at him before she faded away in a tingling chill.

---

At the Old House, Barnabas was alone in the parlor, examining his weak reflection in the glass of the bay window by a flickering candle flame.

It was a sight that still seemed incredibly unbelievable to him. He initially hadn't really thought much of Dr. Hoffman's ambitious treatments on the night Josette re-released him from his coffin. He honestly thought there was nothing that could free him from his curse. All the treatments had done was curve his lust for blood, and hinder his ability to transform into a bat.

Now, however, his actual humanity seemed to be slowly restoring itself. But, Barnabas was still uncertain if he should trust this or even dare to hope. Angelique could still easily dash away all of this incredible progress.

Behind him, the ghost of Carl materialized into the room. His pale eyes widened when he spotted Barnabas' turned back at the window.

"So this is the family's most terrible secret," he whispered silently to himself.

During his lifetime, Carl had frequently heard of the various sad tales of his family's misfortune throughout the generations. Something that had viciously attacked him and his siblings. But, Carl had also heard of a terrible legend within the family that was kept a tight secret.

Barnabas was that terrible secret.

Grinning mischievously to himself, Carl snuck up behind Barnabas and pulled out his pistol from the inside of his coat. He pointed the weapon at the back of Barnabas' head. The recovering vampire's eyes widened.

"Stay where you are," Carl ordered wildly. "Don't move."

Suddenly, Barnabas disliked his returning humanity. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be in a humanly dangerous position that left him vulnerable. But he also recognized this was no human situation. This felt strongly supernatural. Barnabas was not for certain if there were silver bullets in the gun.

"Don't move now," Carl said rigorously. "I know who you are. I won't let you cause any harm to my family."

"If you know who I am sir, then you certainly have the advantage," Barnabas said calmly, trying to hide the panic in his voice. "I intend no harm to you, so I highly suggest you put away the gun."

"Why should I put away the gun if you've come to harm my family," Carl accused. "Everyone wants a piece of the Collins fortune."

"Then I pose no threat to that," Barnabas countered. "I myself am a Collins. I am one of the proudest earlier ancestors."

"Oh, you better not be lying to me," Carl warned, feigning hostile seriousness. "I dislike liars. I loathe and distrust liars. That is a pretty good and wise position for a true Collins to possess."

"Indeed," Barnabas agreed shortly.

Millicent dematerialized through the front doors in the foyer, warmly elated that Joe Haskell fully trusted her and wanted her to save him from the witch. When she glanced into the parlor, she was habitually scandalized by what she saw.

"Carl Collins!" she shrieked. "What on earth are you doing!?"

Her shrill voice caused Carl to abruptly pull the trigger. A white banner emblazoned FIB popped out of the barrel, smacking Barnabas on the back of the head, along with some blue and red confetti. Both the joke pistol and the confetti shimmered briefly in the air and vanished.

Barnabas inelegantly turned around and faced Carl rather darkly. He was unpleasantly surprised to find this ghost to strongly resemble Willie. He was then reminded of what he had heard about the haunting in the West Wing.

"Are you the ghost who Willie Loomis and Maggie Evans encountered in the West Wing?" Barnabas raised a pointed nose at him.

"I met the girl," Carl answered heartily.

"And who are you, exactly?" Barnabas demanded.

"Oh, I am Carl." He grinned boyishly. "Carl Collins. Pleased to meet you."

He extended his hand to shake, but Barnabas left both of his clenched fists tightly by his side.

"Josette is entrusting him to haunt the witch," Millicent informed her cousin as she floated into the room. "It is unbelievable that this man is a true Collins."

"Oh yes, it is in my breeding." Carl cackled delightedly, pulling his extended hand away.

Barnabas stared at him as if he was some hairy lint that needed to be flicked off of his fine jacket.

---

Next Chapter: A Stranger at Collinwood