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!

10. Chapter 10

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

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CHAPTER 10: THE VAMPIRE AND THE GOVERNESS

"WHY MUST YOU TAKE MY BABIES FROM ME!" wailed the wild and hysterical poltergeist.

Willie and Maggie clung tightly and shakily to each other, petrified by the startling presence of this unknown and disturbed woman locked up in their prison with them. A phantom who squeezed two filthy antique dolls protectively to her chest. With her gaunt dirty face, wild matted hair, and tattered dress, Willie figured she'd either been locked up in some attic for twenty years, or was imprisoned in a third world country.

Eyeing her, Maggie could tell, in spite of her ghastly appearance, that she was no identical stranger like herself and Josette. She didn't reflect the likeness of anyone from the Collins family, either. She bear no striking resemblance to anyone Maggie knew in her own timeline.

The phantom stranger slowly advanced on them, with the two small dolls still gripped tightly within her sharp clutches.

The couple clumsily stepped away backwards from her. They remained frighteningly locked in each other's arms, intimately stuck together like glue.

"WHY MUST YOU BOTH HATE ME SO? TO STEAL MY SWEET INNOCENT BABIES!" raged the deranged ghost woman, as she drew threateningly closer to them. "WHAT DESIRABLE LIFE COULD YOU TWO LEECHES OFFER THEM?! YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY SERVANTS! YOU ARE NOT RESPECTABLE LIKE THE COLLINS FAMILY!"

Maggie was at a loss for words. What does one say to reassure a mad dead woman that they're not going to steal her babies? Babies that Maggie could only presume were utterly imaginary.

Eyeing the filthy and battered dolls in the ghost's tight hold, Willie, somehow, mustered up the courage to speak to her. Or rather stammer to her.

"A-Are t-those y-your b-b-babies?" His bottom lip quivered.

"YOU MUST NOT TAKE THEM!" Her screaming rattled the stone walls of the tower-like prison. Her dark eyes penetrated starkly through them.

"W-We don't want 'em." Willie gulped. "T-They're just a buncha ol' d-dolls. W-Why w-would we w-want 'em."

"DOLLS!" The mysterious ghost woman glared murderously. "THESE ARE MY PRECIOUS BABIES!"

"Willie!" Maggie looked up at him appalled from within his arms. Why had he made it worse?

"Oh, no!" A woman's cry vibrated off the cobwebbed walls. It was a disembodied voice. Willie and Maggie sensed another strong presence. But there was no visible form. "Carl, Jenny is haunting those servants in the tower room!"

At those dire words, the ghost of the mad woman froze from her advancing. A mad woman who was apparently named Jenny.

Instantaneously, another invisible presence swooped into the decaying prison tower, accompanied by a loud, uproarious wail. Willie and Maggie shivered in fright.

"Fetch Beth, Rachel," echoed the voice of the unseen man.

Maggie stared around wildly into the air. That voice carried a faint recognition. She wondered where she had heard it. Even the name Rachel seemed faintly familiar.

"Should I really be offering my assistance here?" queried the unseen woman who was evidently named Rachel.

"No, collect Beth," ordered the unseen man named Carl.

"Very well."

Maggie and Willie felt the invisible feminine presence recede out of the prison, tingling their spines as she went.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" screeched the mad ghost Jenny. Her wild eyes grew wider, but there was a glimmer of fragile vulnerability veiling them. "HAVE YOU COME TO TAKE MY BABIES FROM ME!"

"Why, no, I wouldn't even dream of performing such a heinous act, Jenny," the voice of Carl soothed. "I want to protect your children. They are my family."

"You want to protect them?" Jenny's voice softened, tears spilling out of her shadowed eyes.

"Yes, but you must hand them to me," Carl's voice prompted.

"Hand them to you?" The ghost of Jenny gazed upward, as though she were addressing someone. "I don't want to hand them to you!" She seethed. "I am their mother and I shall take care of them!"

But the dolls were quickly snatched from her protective claw-like clutches. They shimmered away in the icy air. Another ghostly chill tingled Maggie and Willie's spines. The unseen male presence had clearly departed the prison, along with the very well guarded, yet, brutally neglected dolls.

"MY BABIES!" Jenny shrieked frantically, her eyes burning darkly at this betrayal. "THAT MONSTER! HE STOLE MY PRECIOUS BABIES!"

Jenny's ghost shot up into the rafters, like some surreal incorporeal rocket. She vanished through the cobwebs and shadows.

Willie and Maggie were once more left in freezing darkness. They continued holding each other tightly, shivering from the unbearable cold. But at least that horrible ghost woman was gone.

Willie had on an itchy sweatshirt covered in debris from the West Wing demolition. It could protect him from the cold for a short while, but Maggie's blue house dress was not exactly made for a prison with the same subzero temperature as an icebox. Miniskirts simply weren't practical in haunted ice cells.

"Willie, if we don't escape here soon, we'll freeze to death." She buried her face in his chest, her teeth chattering. She felt as if the walls were encasing her like a coffin.

"Oh, oh, Maggie, I-I'll think of somethin' to get us outta here." Willie threaded her soft auburn hair with dust covered fingers. He desperately rammed his brain to think up a plan.

The somber melody of a flute reached their ears through the chilled darkness. A melancholy, yet child-like rendering, of "London Bridge."An innocent white light engulfed their prison, and all grew dead quiet.

Willie and Maggie slowly released each other from their embrace, and turned their attention to a back corner by the window. Little Sarah stood there, with her hands tight at her sides.

She grinned up at them cheerily. "Hello, Maggie. Hello, Willie."

"Sarah!" Maggie excitedly dashed to the ghost child and bent down to her. "How did you know we were locked up in here?"

"I sensed you were in trouble," Sarah explained simply.

Maggie took that in. She supposed Sarah did have an uncanny ability to instinctively know when she was imprisoned somewhere. That was how they became friends back at the Old House.

"Roger Collins locked me and Maggie up in here," Willie informed the ghost girl, as he stepped up beside Maggie, hands on his hips.

"I know," she told him eerily.

She looked Maggie straight in the eye. "Are you angry at me?"

"Angry?" Maggie was taken aback by her question. "Sarah, why would I be angry at you?"

"I haven't come to see you in a while," Sarah murmured. "I hope that didn't make you feel sad. I have been trying to take care of David and Barnabas."

"Oh, Sarah." Maggie tilted up her head, her small chin felt like ice. "I'm not angry at you."

"Do you still take care of my doll?" Sarah asked her.

Happy and relieved that a less threatening ghost was making inquiries about a doll, Maggie wrapped the child in a hug. It wasn't a warm embrace. Sarah was as cold as their frozen prison. But Maggie didn't mind.

"Yes, I've been taking good care of her," she whispered happily over the dead child's shoulder.

---

Jenny bolted high above the high-pitched roof top of the Great House, with her ghostly glow flashing piercingly like a bolt of lightning.

Curtains of snowflakes fell through the winter night. White sparkling lights climbed up the mansion and illuminated much of the grounds down below. Many of the windows had yellow lights filtering out of them. Yet, Jenny hopelessly wandered in darkness.

Transparent and lithe, she flashed through the line of chimneys, screaming woefully.

"MY BABIES! MY BABIES! OH THAT FIENDISH MONSTER! WHAT HAS HE DONE TO MY BABIES!"

"Jenny."

A calming voice from the snowy wind whispered into Jenny's ear. She paused in midair.

"Jenny."

The voice came to her again. A soft feminine voice that was soothing and collected.

Jenny flew higher up into the snow curtain sky, searching for the owner of that voice. She burned her gaze down on the high-pitched roof above, which was blanketed in gleaming white snow. Her horribly matted hair thrashed chaotically in the icy wind.

"Jenny."

The mad ghost whirled around. The voice was coming from behind.

Beth hovered before her in a white chiffon gown. She was strongly corporeal. Her long curly locks were elegantly wrapped up in a ladylike bun, with some of her soft blonde curls billowing in the wind. She was shrouded in a serene light, which softly illuminated the harsh winter night.

"Oh, it is you." Jenny seethed. "Why on earth are you dressed like that?" She eyed the white dress disapprovingly. "You are my maidservant, Beth! Don't go thinking you can possibly masquerade as the mistress of Collinwood. That would be preposterous!"

"I am not masquerading as the mistress of Collinwood," Beth said calmly, floating up gently to her. "What is troubling you? Have you lost something, Jenny?"

"My babies," Jenny wept, sorrowful tears streaming down her dirty gaunt face. "They... they were stolen from me!"

"Stolen? By who?" Beth patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"By that disgraceful jokester Carl Collins!" Jenny growled, balling her fists.

Beth gently grabbed her clenched fists and slowly descended down toward the roof, coaxing her to follow. Tucking her white skirt, and unaffected by the stinging ice, Beth sat on the wet snowy shingles with Jenny, who was sobbing uncontrollably into her hands. Snow continued to slowly fall around them like confetti.

"Mr. Carl has not stolen your babies, Jenny," Beth attempted to console her.

"YES, HE DID!" Jenny snapped hotly, glaring darkly. "I SAW IT! I SAW IT WITH MY VERY EYES!"

"No, no, your babies are resting." Beth comfortingly patted her shoulder again. "They are at rest, and I assure you they are safe."

"Why must Carl take them into this dreadful cold!" hissed Jenny furiously. "They'll catch their death in all of this snow!"

"Why don't you get some rest?" Beth wanted to make that sound like a suggestion, but actually meant something entirely else by it.

"I shan't rest without my dear babies by my side," Jenny stated sadly.

"Mr. Carl hasn't taken your babies, Jenny," said Beth. "They are resting, remember?"

"Resting?" Jenny strained to remember the true whereabouts of her children.

As she watched Jenny struggle to comprehend what was real and what was not, Beth's heart broke for her all over again. It seemed so impossible that she was ever Jenny's maidservant. Life before Collinwood was an impossibly detached memory, even in death. Jenny was much happier and content in that forgotten time. But the habitants of this house despicably destroyed her and drove her into madness.

And Beth helped them.

Shoving aside that unforgiving fact, Beth said, "Jenny, please get some rest. Everything will become much clearer to you then."

"Quentin is somewhere in this house," Jenny murmured quietly.

She stared at Beth with unusually focused eyes. "I can feel him. He is close. He is near. That is why I returned here."

Beth was unsettled by the lack of hysteria in Jenny's voice, along with the words she was speaking. She greatly wondered if Jenny was obfuscating her madness. Or if it had just occurred to her that she was actually a dead woman.

"Quentin is never coming back," Beth uttered.

In spite of the many walls of the West Wing being violently torn down, and her evil phantom prisoner making various attempts to communicate with that boy, Beth had to go on believing that Quentin would forever remain locked up behind that paneled wall. She did everything within her power to ward those men away from that forbidden corridor. And she would like to persuade the boy to permanently dispose of that abhorrent telephone forever.

But she was disheartened by Tim and Rachel's unfortunate news of Count Petofi's brief unwelcomed visit earlier. But Beth couldn't be deterred, even by that diabolical warlock. She must continue on with her duties as a jailer for everyone's sake.

"With everything within my power, I will ensure Quentin will not come back," Beth vowed to her former mistress.

As they continued to sit on top of the snowy roof, Beth absurdly felt as though they were a couple of ugly gargoyles blending in naturally to the exterior of a massive gothic castle.

---

"Sarah, do you know what room this is?" Maggie questioned directly, shivering from the cold. She was still bent over the ghost girl.

"Of course I do," Sarah answered helpfully, much to Maggie's tremendous relief that she didn't give one of her vague, unhelpful answers. "We are in the tower room."

"Tower room?" Willie muttered beside Maggie, his hands still placed on his hips.

"Yes." Sarah nodded.

"I thought this place felt like a tower," Maggie breathed.

"Is there a way outta here, Sarah?" Willie asked hopefully.

"Through the door," Sarah answered unhelpfully. "There are no secret passageways here, and no way to safely climb down the window. My cousin Daniel used to threaten to lock me up in here because I use to tease him."

Maggie straightened herself back up. "Well, Willie, I guess we just have to bust our way through the door. I hope you have some clever con man trick up your sleeve."

"Gotta hairpin?"

Maggie unclipped one such item from her auburn locks, and smirked. "Should I even be surprise that you know how to pick locks?"

"Nah, ya shouldn't." Willie took the hairpin.

"Well, I hope you're really good at it. Otherwise, we'll have to knock that door off its hinges with frozen stiff joints." Maggie miserably wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

As Willie moved to the door, Sarah asked, "Maggie, have you seen a ghost?"

Maggie looked down at her with a surprised jolt in her wide amber eyes.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Sarah gazed deeply into her shocked eyes.

Snorting at the ghost girl's ironic query, Willie began picking the lock.

"Willie and I saw the ghost of a mad woman in here," Maggie explained to the ghost child. "We don't know who she was. She accused us of trying to kidnap her babies."

"Which were really a buncha ol' dolls clutched in her arms the whole time she was scarin' us!" Willie spat fumingly as he continued his lock picking.

"You wouldn't kidnap her dolls, would you, Willie?" Sarah queried in a soft murmuring voice.

"No, Sarah," Willie grumbled, growing increasingly frustrated that he wasn't getting any traction with the old rusted lock. "Why would I wanna ghost of a crazy lady to hate me, huh?"

"You do unwise things sometimes, Willie," said Sarah.

"Sarah, do you know who this lady is?" Maggie inquired. "Her hair is wild and unbrushed, her clothes are tattered, and she carries around two filthy dolls."

"No." Sarah shook her head. "How did you ever get her to leave you alone?"

"We were rescued by two other ghosts, I think," Maggie exclaimed. "They were invisible, but Willie and I heard their voices. They tricked the mad ghost out of the room."

"Do you know who they are?" Sarah asked interestedly.

"Their names are apparently Carl and Rachel," Maggie answered her.

"They didn't really say hi to us," interjected the as-yet unsuccessful lock pick.

"Oh, I know Carl!" Sarah said brightly with a wide grin. "He makes me laugh sometimes. The family and Barnabas don't seem to like him, but he is a Collins. Josette trusts him."

"Carl Collins?" Maggie analyzed the familiar name. "The man from the Collins history book!"

She rushed over to Willie at the door. "Willie, we were rescued by the ghost of Carl Collins! Why didn't I figure it out when he was here?"

"We were gettin' haunted by a ghost of a lady who likes dolls too much, Maggie," Willie reasoned in his muttering voice, keeping his attention on the ancient unpickable lock.

"Carl Collins is the man from the Collins history book about the nineteenth century," Maggie reminded him fervently. "Remember, I showed you his photo."

Willie gazed up at her. "The guy that looks like me? Ya think we got rescued by him?"

"Yes." Maggie stared around the room blankly, trying to fish out any other faint recollections.

Her blank look reminded Willie of how she was once brainwashed by Barnabas at the Old House, and used to parade around like a zombie who couldn't think or fend for herself. It frightened him.

"Maggie," he murmured worryingly. "M-Maggie, what's the matter?"

"Carl's voice," Maggie uttered dreamily, still staring blankly. "I heard his voice before, Willie."

"Ya heard him before?" Willie murmured with raised brows. "How d'you mean?"

"I don't know," Maggie admitted, struggling to knock down the mental barriers. "It's all so vague. Why can't I remember this?"

I wanna dance with you...

Maggie recalled the song suddenly resounding in her cloudy memories.

"I think he sang to me once," she told Willie with far away eyes.

"Wha?"

... Wanna dance your cares away...

"Yes, I wanna dance with you," Maggie uttered emotionlessly. "Wanna dance your cares away."

"He sang that to you?" Willie sounded a little jealous. Did he need to worry about yet another dead guy going after Maggie?

You look very much like Rachel.

"Yes, and he told me I look like Rachel."

Maggie's eyes snapped back into awareness. Willie was greatly relieved they were not blank and emotionless anymore.

"Rachel was here with him!" Maggie burst out ecstatically.

"Have ya ever seen Rachel?" Willie asked her gently.

"No, I don't think I have." Maggie shook her head. "Willie, I have seen Carl, but I can't remember how I saw him. From the moment I saw his photo in that book, I knew he was familiar."

The soft white light that purely gleamed from Sarah abruptly extinguished. A familiar cold chill swept through them, a sign that she had left them.

"Sarah, please, don't go!" Maggie pleaded into the darkness. "Please, we need you, Sarah!"

It occurred to her that she didn't think to ask Sarah why Josette wanted Vicki to continue searching for her parents. It seemed an inopportune time with an evil witch endangering Vicki's life, and the Collins family. But Maggie presumed that the ghost girl would likely answer that she was not allowed to tell.

"Are you anywhere near picking that lock?" Maggie asked Willie, wrapping herself up in her own arms for warmth again.

He was about to resume doing just that, until a loud click sprung out from the lock. The door creaked itself wide open. Willie and Maggie looked at each other. It was the same phenomenon they'd witness at the Old House countless times.

"M-Maggie," Willie whimpered.

"Sarah?" Maggie called out of the tower room's door. "Sarah, did you open the door for us?"

A warming sensation tingled at Maggie's chest. A sensation coming from the hidden golden medallion. A sign that the witch was heading their way.

Maggie urgently grabbed Willie's arm, and whispered, "Willie, the medallion - Cassandra is coming!"

Then a faint distant music reached their ears. It came to them in a lowly audible and secret whisper. The song didn't fill the room. But the young couple looked at each other and knew they were hearing it.

"Maggie, this is like the ghost music from the West Wing!" Willie whispered manically.

But it was not the same music. This sounded more bouncy and dance-like. Like it could've been played in the dance halls or saloons some sixty or seventy years ago. Nothing like the imposing and sinister piece haunting Willie in the West Wing.

A sharp stroke of a pointed finger spontaneously brushed down their backs. The couple whirled around, and nearly screamed in unison.

A skeleton cackled at them deviously. It was peculiarly dressed in a red and black harlequin Jester costume, complete with a pointed clownish hat.

Before the couple could react, the skeleton enveloped them into its out-stretched arms. He spun them wildly out of the tower room in a strange, spinning, dancing motion. The bouncy vintage music rang more prominently in their ears as he fastly spun them around and around.

Passing the old creaking staircase, the skeleton roughly and dizzyingly slammed Willie and Maggie against the wall in a shadowy far away corner, pinning them against it.

This was all strangely familiar to Maggie, a sense of pounding déjà vu. She had been in this position before. She also couldn't help but to be astonished that Willie hadn't clumsily stepped on her feet like he usually did whenever they danced on dates.

She listened to the music in her ears more closely. The melody sounded as if it could go along with the lyrics, I wanna dance with you, Wanna dance your cares away.

Willie, who seemed to be on the verge of having a stroke due to an exploding heart, attempted to move. But the skeleton Jester firmly held him and Maggie in place against the wall.

Maggie felt the medallion growing even warmer.

Creaking footsteps creeped up the staircase. The pushy skeleton ordered them to, "Shhh."

They spotted the tiny golden glow of a candle flame ascending up the shadowy steps. The medallion all but burned Maggie's chest.

The Jester skeleton pinned them even more tightly against the wall.

A dark outline crept up the staircase. It was hard to make out through the darkness, and the glow of the candle offered little light.

But the couple knew it was the witch. The medallion only reacted this way whenever she was close by. But she seemed to be wearing a heavy coat with a hood covering her head.

Willie and Maggie's hearts raced dangerously, but they remained silent. It felt as though the skeleton was somehow urging them not to make a single sound.

As they labored in Collinwood all day, neither Willie or Maggie had seen much of the witch. She mostly locked herself up in her and Roger's bedroom during most of the day. Maggie knew she went out for a walk on the grounds.

Willie was fearful that the witch might really be on to them after the portrait incident. He also found he heavily disliked her candle flame. It was bewitchingly hypnotic. She had used that to summon him against his will just a few short days ago. He shuddered at that reminder.

When the witch reached the tower room's door, she was alarmed to find it wide open. She stared around alertly with her candlestick clung more tightly in her grasp. But Willie and Maggie were hidden in deep shadows. The witch didn't seem to sense them. But the skeleton was covering them protectively, like a macabre shield.

Somewhat convinced she was alone, the witch entered the tower room and shut the door with a loud clank.

The skeleton released Willie and Maggie from its hold. He swooped over to the staircase and importantly pointed down the steps with a long extended bony finger. He looked like a colorful and festive Grim Reaper. He gestured for them to leave, but Willie and Maggie were already tip-toeing passed their skeletal savior.

Huddled close together, they gladly descended down the staircase as quietly as they could. Leaving behind this cold and nightmarish place.

In the closed tower room, Cassandra leaned against the filthy window with her hood covering her face. She coldly stared into her tiny but empowering flame. "Joe, come to me. Come to me. I need you, Joe."

---

Elizabeth spoke on the phone on the large table in the foyer. She learned what she needed to know, and ended the discussion.

"Yes, thank you," she said into the receiver, and then returned the black phone to its cradle.

Heaving a deep sigh, she shifted her gaze to the wide open doors of the drawing room. The ghost of her loyal companion, Bill Malloy, drenched in salty water and seaweed, cast her a troubled look.

"You are opening up a whole can of worms, Liz," he warned haggardly.

"There is no turning back now, Bill," she stated, a heavily resigned look imprinted on her face. "He has already arrived in Collinsport."

"Mrs. Stoddard?" Mrs. Johnson scurried out from the kitchen, and stepped up to the house mistress at the table. "Did you call for me?"

"No," Elizabeth said to her.

"Oh." The house maid glanced down at the table, fiddling her fingers.

"Is there something bothering you, Mrs. Johnson?" Elizabeth queried.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Johnson insisted anxiously, gazing up at her. "I just had the oddest feeling you were speaking with Mr. Malloy."

"Mr. Malloy?" Elizabeth slid her gaze to the drawing room's doors, but found Bill had vanished. There was no evidence that someone soaked in salty water and seaweed was ever present in the room.

"But that of course would be absurd." Mrs. Johnson scoffed. "He died a year ago." She dropped her gaze to the table again, her eyes softening. "He was a dear man. I can't believe a full year has gone by without him."

"Yes," Elizabeth murmured with her own heavy heart.

She snuck a glance at Mrs. Johnson. She used to be Bill's personal house maid before she came to work at Collinwood. Bill was a good employer to her. She started working at Collinwood shortly after Bill's murder, when she initially intended to dig up incriminating information against the family for Burke Devlin. But when Burke dropped his vendetta and became devoted to Vicki, Mrs. Johnson shifted her loyalty to the Collins family, most specifically, Elizabeth.

Over time, Elizabeth had grown to consider her a friend.

Recovering from her bittersweet reverie, Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, "It must be all the ghosts haunting around here. They're messing with our emotions."

Elizabeth had no response to that.

The door on the upstairs landing creaked open. Willie and Maggie stumbled out, wrapped tightly together like a straitjacket. They took slow, tentative steps down the staircase. Mrs. Johnson closely observed the pale, petrified look plastered on their faces as they went down the steps.

"Oh, I see the ghosts of Collinwood have been messing with your emotions as well," she remarked. "I swear something is running rampant in this house, and I am not one for swearing."

Willie cast the maid the most perturbed look he could muster as he gently guided his shivering girlfriend down the stairs.

Once they reached the bottom landing, Elizabeth asked Mrs. Johnson, "Can you go on up and see if David has finished his dinner?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stoddard."

Mrs. Johnson went up the staircase. Once she was gone, Elizabeth stepped closer to the obviously distressed couple.

"Maggie, what on earth happened to you and Willie?"

"Mr. Collins locked us in the tower room," Maggie reported with chattering teeth.

"Well, you obviously escaped." Elizabeth was a little impressed.

"Yeah," Willie muttered, gazing down on the flagstone floor glassily.

"It was freezing up there," Maggie told the matriarch. "I think he wanted us to die in there."

"Maggie, remember when I told you that you only answer to me," Elizabeth said scrupulously.

"Yes," Maggie answered.

"I'd like for you to stay away from Roger, and stop accepting orders from him," Elizabeth told her. "That goes for you, too, Willie. I apologize for his behavior, and what he put you both through. He disapproves of you both remaining employed here. He highly suspects you were responsible for that bizarre incident with Vicki's portrait."

"But why would he lock us in the tower room?" Maggie knew the true answer to that question, but she wanted to hear what her current employer thought of the situation.

"No one has been up there in centuries," said Elizabeth. "I suspect Roger only wanted to scare you so you would quit here. I again apologize for his idiotic actions. I'll speak with him, and make sure he'll leave you two alone. That is if you both still want to stay with us."

"Yes, Mrs. Stoddard." Maggie nodded, her joints still numb from that freezing prison. She didn't want to continue on working here, and she deeply knew how Willie felt about Collinwood. But they agreed to help get rid of the witch so Barnabas' curse could be lifted.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Elizabeth. "I'll see to it that something like this will never happen again. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Yes, after we got out, we saw Mrs. Collins go into the tower room," Maggie informed her, purposely leaving out the ghosts of Jenny, Rachel, Carl, and Sarah. Not to mention the bizarre clown skeleton. "I don't know if she knew we were imprisoned in there."

Elizabeth raised her brows, obviously pleased by her new servant's loyalty. "Did she see you two?"

"Nah," Willie answered her. "And we don't know what she's doin' in there."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'd like to thank you two for informing me of this. You may run along now, and enjoy your evening."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Stoddard," Maggie said breathlessly.

But Maggie didn't know if she and Willie would be able to have a peaceful evening. Remembering Julia's order for Willie to return to the Old House, Maggie wondered what she wanted from him. How long would he have to be over there?

"C'mon, baby." Willie tenderly rubbed Maggie's shoulder. Now that he officially knew Maggie loved him and viewed him as her boyfriend, he figured he was now qualified to refer to her by a pet name. He always wanted to call her his baby, but maybe he'd come up with something more meaningful.

After they bade good night to Elizabeth, Willie and Maggie crossed to the front doors, grabbing their coats from the coat rack. They gave each other long agonizing looks as they put on their coats. They suffered through quite an evening, and they didn't exactly enjoy playing along with the Collinses conniving house politics. Being loyal to Barnabas was daunting enough.

Unbeknown to them, Roger had sneakily overheard their entire exchange with his sister through the crack shut door of the study. He was quite bothered that those two single-handedly escaped his trap, and were seemingly loyal to Elizabeth by reporting his dastardly deed to her. How could they have possibly escaped? And what in the blazes was Cassandra doing up in the tower room by herself?

"Ya should wait here, Maggie," Willie said to her as soon as they got their coats on. "I'll get the truck heated for ya."

As Willie opened the front double doors, he surprisingly bumped into Joe, who stood at the doorstep wearing his heavy green coat. He looked like he was getting ready to knock before Willie opened the doors.

"Joe," Maggie said softly.

"Hi, Maggie," Joe replied.

He tried to appear civil, but carried a dark troubled look in his striking blue eyes. A look Maggie found unsettling. He was like a total stranger.

He stepped aside her, ignored Willie, and entered the mansion.

"Hello, Joe." Elizabeth warmly welcomed him from the foyer by the table. "Are you here to see Carolyn?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stoddard."

"She's upstairs," the matriarch informed him.

"I figured she would be." Joe gladly headed for the staircase.

"Aren't you going to take off your coat?" Elizabeth asked him curiously.

"No, it's quite drafty," Joe answered her, as he hurried his way up the steps.

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and went into the drawing room.

Once the young man disappeared behind the door up the landing, Willie left Maggie, and wordlessly went out the front doors. He privately thought Joe looked like he was cracking a little.

But Maggie was a little disheartened. She felt unnerved by the unsocial way Joe was acting. Not at all like his usual self. She supposed this was a definite sign that he would never approve of her being with Willie. She left him for Willie under very complicated and distressing circumstances. She still cared for him, and she didn't want to hurt him. But she fell in love with Willie. Perhaps the idea of the three of them becoming friends was sadly too ridiculous.

---

With her tiny, hypnotic flame, Cassandra waited patiently for her slave in the frigid darkness of the tower room. To her eager anticipation, footsteps echoed outside the door. Joe predictably came through it, a fevered desire cloaking his wide blue eyes. "I've been waiting for you to call me."

"You should know by now that my call will always be inevitable," Cassandra responded to him. "Your will is mine."

"Yes, I know." Joe shut the door and loyally came closer to her and her flame. He noticed the red hood covering her head. "Why are you wearing that?"

"It's too cold up here," said Cassandra.

"Then we should start meeting someplace that's warmer for you," Joe suggested adoringly.

"That is not important now," Cassandra dismissed his concern. "Have you received a visit from your ghost admirer today?"

"No, I was at the cannery," Joe exclaimed. "But I wasn't doing much there. I kept waiting for you to call me." He smiled at her.

"This is troubling," Cassandra said displeased, averting her cool gaze from him. "It's imperative for you to learn valuable information from that ghost."

"In regards to Josette Collins," said Joe.

Cassandra returned her steely gaze to him, promptly taking over the conversation. "I thought you said this ghost harbored a strong interest in you."

"She does." Joe nodded. "It's just that I only seem to see her when I'm here at Collinwood. I've never seen her outside of the grounds."

"Then you should spend more time on the grounds," said Cassandra.

"But, I-I spend a lot of time here already," Joe said awkwardly.

"Then you need to spend even more time here," countered Cassandra.

"But, Mrs. Collins, I have a job at the cannery," Joe flatly attempted to reason.

"That is no longer your top priority," Cassandra said firmly. "Assisting me is, and I need you to gain information from that ghost."

"But, if I stop working at the cannery, I'll get fired."

"Loyalty to me has its own benefits." She gazed at him closely with hooded eyes. "Tell me, Joe. What do you desire most out of life?"

"To own my own ship, and run my own fishing fleet." Joe turned away from her timidly. He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair, his eyes misting slightly.

"There is more than that, isn't there." Cassandra studied the troubled lines on his features. She sensed he was carrying the burden of an overwhelming heartbreak. "The last time we were up here together, you claimed to know what heartbreak is like," she reflected. "Can you explain?"

Joe ran a hand through his dark hair again, and tilted his head in deep contemplation. He then rather unwillingly stared into his mistress' penetrating blue eyes through the shadow of her hood. He grimly realized there was no holding back from her. Even a private pain.

"Maggie Evans, the girl who works here as a maid." He blankly stared into the candle flame.

"Yes," Cassandra prodded him consistently, her cool eyes dancing along with the flickering flame.

"I-I was happy with her once," he went on, his blue eyes gazing into her enchanted ones. "Very happy. I wanted to marry her."

"What changed?" Cassandra pressed.

"She got kidnapped," Joe said waveringly. "She was rescued by her father and Willie Loomis. Some thugs held her captive in some shack somewhere in the woods."

"She was no longer the girl you once intimately knew," Cassandra surmised with a nod.

"Yeah, pretty much." Joe sighed heavily. "She left me for Willie Loomis."

"Isn't he Vicki and Burke's contractor for the West Wing?"

"He used to work for Barnabas Collins at the Old House," Joe told her.

Cassandra didn't need servants to tell her that. She had personally observed how her treacherous curse prevented Willie and Maggie from staking Barnabas in the heart with his own splintered cane. She had witnessed that indignity with much delight.

"Before he worked for Barnabas Collins, he was a creep," Joe went on indignantly about Willie. "He harassed every girl in town when he came here, including Maggie. I had to force him to leave her alone once. He also gave Vicki a hard time, and Carolyn actually had to pull a gun on him."

"I certainly haven't seen him act like that," Cassandra said surprised. "He always seems so timid and submissive."

"He unaccountably changed when he started working for Barnabas Collins," Joe exclaimed. "He apologized to Maggie and all the other girls for harassing them. They all forgave him and magically forgot what a creep he was."

He heaved a frustrated and exasperated sigh. "But it doesn't explain why Maggie left me for him. She accepted his apology, but they were never even acquaintances, let alone friends. It doesn't make sense that they're now together like this, even with him saving her from those thugs."

"What do you think really happened with them?" Cassandra asked him.

"There's something Maggie isn't telling us about her kidnapping," Joe said evenly. "I think Willie knows more than he lets on. It just can't be a coincidence that he just so happened to aid Sam in rescuing her. Considering she was found not far from these grounds."

"Do you think it might be connected to Barnabas?" Cassandra looked at him pointedly.

Joe shrugged. "I suppose it isn't my business. I'm not a part of Maggie's life anymore." He returned his gaze back to his mistress, his eyes soft and vulnerable. "But you know about lost love, Mrs. Collins. You know how I feel."

"Call me Cassandra," she told him warmly.

"I know that you know what heartbreak is," Joe persisted.

Cassandra couldn't help but soften her own blue gaze. Listening to his tale of an unfair heartbreak reminded her of Martinique. How she fell deliriously in love with Barnabas Collins, only to have her feelings trampled on in favor of Barnabas' unyielding love and devotion to her mistress Josette du Pres.

Rapid emotions coursed through her in crashing waves. With the enchanted candle still in hand, Cassandra stepped closer to her slave. When she first laid eyes on him, she knew he would be a desirable companion. There was certainly an ironic depravity to Joe losing his love, all because of Barnabas' love for Josette.

"You and I are kindred souls, Joe Haskell," she said to him, softly caressing his cheek with cold fingers. Joe shut his eyes contentedly, his body tingling from the feel of her icy touch. "Willie and Maggie are Barnabas' servants," she whispered to him. "He is the reason why she left you for Willie. They are very much against us."

Joe's eyes widened at her words. Had he really lost Maggie because of Barnabas Collins?

Outside the tower room's door, Roger was struck completely dumb. He stood as stiff as a stone statue with his lantern in hand, paralyzed by the salacious words he overheard his bride uttering from inside.

Was Cassandra, his beloved wife, enjoying a sordid dalliance with his niece's boyfriend, who also happened to be a trusted employee at the cannery? Roger squeezed shut his eyes. He sincerely thought he'd walked away from these betrayals when his marriage to Laura thankfully ended.

A harsh mocking laughter hissed into his ear. "Your bride is a magnificent whore, sailor."

Roger recoiled from that vulgar, disgusting whisper. No one was there in the freezing dark corridor with him. At least, not as far as he knew.

---

The transparent ghost of Millicent stared mesmerized into the burning embers in the hearth. She sat on the floor by the fireplace in the parlor, her legs and the skirt of her slender gray dress curled up beneath her.

She stared blankly into the dancing red flames, knowing full well Joe was entranced by the witch's hypnotic candle flame at that moment.

She needed to develop a meaningful bond with him. Why couldn't Josette and the rest of the family just allow her a proper chance to reach through to him? She could honestly make herself strong enough to do so. She didn't have to forever remain this fragile thing lacking the ability to become fully corporeal. She really didn't have to submit to Nathan's pestering insistence of releasing the Reverend Trask from his prison.

Millicent had tremendous faith that Josette and the rest of the dead family members would ultimately banish the witch.

A chilling, unnatural presence crept up behind her. Her grown brother Daniel made himself faintly visible. "Millicent, I dearly hope you are not thinking of that man under the witch's thrall again."

Millicent glanced up at him with fluttering lashes, and a sweet smile.

"Well, of course not, dear Daniel," she denied. "I was only thinking of cousin Barnabas. I can sense his curse fading. When he is as he was, the witch will surely be powerless against him and all us departed Collinses."

"I am glad you've come to realize that," Daniel said satisfied.

The Collins ghost alertly sensed a living presence approaching from outside

"Come, Millicent," urged Daniel. "Let us keep this house on guard."

The two shimmered into the candle lit air, and dematerialized into invisibility. They dutifully joined the rest of their deceased family members to keep tight guard on the decaying manor.

The crystal chandelier swayed ungracefully from the ceiling in the parlor. The crystals chimed together noisily in a disjointed rhythm. The tiny flames of the numerous lit candles flickered in the empowering phantom breeze.

A sturdy knock echoed loudly from the shut front doors in the foyer. Coincidently, Julia emerged from behind the barred basement door, distractedly going over some notes she written on her clipboard.

The knock reverberated behind the front doors again, capturing her attention from her notes. She saw the chandelier in the parlor swaying back and forth, and many of the candles had already flickered out.

Julia furrowed her brow. The Collins ancestors were wary and obviously on guard due to the visitor behind the doors. Julia crossed over to them, tensely curious if Angelique was somehow standing behind them, in spite of Josette's banishment of her from this house.

Once Julia opened one of the doors, she was instead greeted by a more welcoming presence.

"Good evening, Julia," Dr. Woodard said pleasantly from the doorstep, wearing his long brown winter coat.

"Hello, Dave." Julia smiled, bundling herself up in her gray sweater to keep warm from the bitter winter night. "What brings you up here?"

"What isn't?" Dr. Woodard replied bluntly. "Your pursuing the most impossible scientific breakthrough in all lifetimes. We haven't seen much of each other for a few days, and I thought I should check up on you."

"I'm fine," she answered.

"How is your subject?" Dr. Woodard inquired.

At that question, a sharp foreboding wind blew around him, rustling the snow-covered tree branches towering over the front porch. Thin layers of snow dusted his shoulders.

Inside, the chandelier in the parlor intensified its graceless swaying, as more of the candles were extinguished. Even the strong flames in the hearth were beginning to weaken.

Even though he was a practical man, or at least tried real hard to be during these situations, Dr. Woodard sensed something out of the ordinary invading the air.

"Well, I gather the likes of Josette Collins doesn't want me to see the progress you're making."

"We're all being extremely cautious," explained Julia. "Barnabas said that none of us should let down our guard when it comes to Angelique."

"Yes, of course." Dr. Woodard nodded rationally. "She's a dangerous witch."

He found it astounding that those words slipped off of his tongue so naturally. He then realized that he couldn't advance any farther passed the threshold. It felt as though strong hands of some kind were holding him at bay.

"I take it I'm not invited to come in."

"I think it's a far better idea for me to come see you in town tomorrow," said Julia.

"I'm going up to Collinwood tomorrow morning," Dr. Woodard informed her. "Going to evaluate David. The poor lad seems to have fallen terribly ill. You could see me up there if you like, still within the influence of all the spooks."

"If things go well, you may well see me up there by then."

"I hope for your sake, this is all worth it, Julia," Dr. Woodard said seriously.

The woman doctor squinted her eyes at her old friend and colleague.

"I am fundamentally changing a life, Dave," she said defensively. "It's more than just curing some supernatural disease. I am helping a man conquer his demons."

"And it's all very incredible," Dr. Woodard assured her. "I'm just worried your tampering with something so powerful, you don't understand it. I'm worried about you. For all of us. Scared, even."

"Don't be," Julia told him. "Good night, Dave," she added.

"Good night, Julia," Dr. Woodard replied wearily.

Impulsively, the door shut itself between them. Julia hadn't even touched it.

Once there was no trace of Dr. Woodard, Julia stared up the staircase through the encroaching darkness, due to many of the candles already being snuffed out by wary ghosts. The flames in the fireplace were still weakening.

Dusk had passed a little over an hour ago, and Julia hadn't checked on her patient yet.

Up in Josette's elegantly restored, candle lit bedroom, the mistress of the Old House laid comfortably on her canopy bed. Her white flowing gown curtained around her on the silk red bedspreads. Her veil draped over her head.

Barnabas nestled beside her in slumber. He slowly fluttered open his dark eyes. With blurry vision, he found the ghost of his lost love lying intimately close. She stroked his sleek black hair with electrically tinged fingers. Her familiar jasmine scent tickled his nostrils, and her tingling melody lowly accompanied her aroma in the air.

For Barnabas, this was heaven.

"Is it night?" He yawned.

"Yes, it is well past dusk." Josette continued stroking his hair lovingly.

"Did I sleep in here all day?" Barnabas blinked, his voice groggy.

"Yes, and you never even tried to crawl into your coffin," Josette answered him proudly. "I was with you the entire time."

Barnabas lifted himself up on his elbows. "I didn't retire to my coffin?"

"No." Josette shook her head. "Has Angelique invaded your nightmares?"

"No." Barnabas gazed around the candle lit room. "I haven't dreamt of her."

"That is wonderful, Barnabas," Josette said happily. "This is very encouraging."

She caressed his cheek, her unearthly touch cool against his skin. This sort of reminded her of when she visited him in his coffin. Back when he was holding Maggie Evans as his prisoner. Their touch had that same sensuous sensation.

"I actually slept like a normal man," Barnabas murmured amazed.

"Yes," said Josette. "And I kept close guard on you. I was by your side when you died all those centuries ago. Or at least, the man I loved died. I really want to be present when you are given life once more."

Before Barnabas could respond to her, the double doors intrusively burst open. Julia entered, carrying her medical bag.

"Good, you're awake." She stepped up to the bed. "You didn't crawl into your coffin during the day. That's very encouraging."

"That is what I told him," Josette said to her.

"Will I be able to exist during the day, doctor?" Barnabas couldn't help but ask.

"One step at a time." Julia looked across the room to the mirror on Josette's vanity. She found Barnabas still cast a reflection. She then pulled out her stethoscope from her bag and listened to his heartbeat. She then felt his pulse, and scrutinized her wrist watch as she did so.

"What is the diagnosis, doctor?" asked Barnabas nervously.

"You have all the vital signs of a normal and healthy man," Julia answered, grinning. "Your pulse and heartbeat are absolutely normal."

Barnabas and Josette lit up matching smiles on the bed.

"You are really conquering my curse with your science, doctor," Barnabas declared impressed.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Julia said hesitantly. "I'd like to run some tests in the basement."

She irritably sighed as she crammed her stethoscope back into her bag. "Oh, I wish Willie would just get here."

"Willie was contained," Josette filled in. "Along with Maggie at Collinwood."

"What?" Barnabas frowned at her.

"Angelique's husband locked them in the tower room," Josette explained to him. "But Carl Collins rescued them, and Sarah managed to console them."

"Carl Collins?" Barnabas was utterly flabbergasted Josette would honestly ally herself with an irresponsible oaf who enjoyed brandishing false pistols of all things.

"Yes," said Josette. "I trust him to protect Willie, Maggie, and the family."

"What?" Barnabas had been stunned to hear this from Millicent. But to actually hear it from his lady.

Josette darted her gaze to Julia. "Was it necessary to banish their memories of Carl and the West Wing, doctor? Carl has informed me that Maggie had a glimmer of recognition of him. And Willie serves in the West Wing. He is beginning to suspect that matters there are out of sorts."

"I already told you, we need them to concentrate on helping Barnabas," Julia argued. "The West Wing has nothing to do with us. We'll be fine as long as the West Wing's secrets remain hidden."

Josette was uncertain. What if it wasn't that simple? Reports about matters there seemed to grow increasingly grim by the day. Her ponderings were interrupted by the swaying of her own crystal chandelier, and her draperies lightly billowing in a phantom breeze.

"Mr. Loomis is makin' 'is way 'ere, Ms. Josette," Ben Stokes' gruff disembodied voice reported through the perfumed air.

"Thank you, Ben," Josette replied politely.

The chandelier and the draperies stilled, and the unnatural breeze died.

"Good." Julia sighed.

"I am going down to greet him," Josette insisted. "I would like to speak with him."

Julia shrugged. "Very well. This is obviously your house."

Josette briskly whisked her way out of her bedroom, flickering some candle flames, and shaking the crystal chandelier, as she went. Her lithe incorporeal form maneuvered swiftly through the corridor, and quickly dove down the staircase.

The front double doors blew themselves wide open to welcome in Willie, who tautly entered. All of the supernatural phenomenon still frightened him.

Josette's tingling music and jasmine perfume dominated the dusty air of the Old House as always.

The doors shut themselves tightly behind him. Josette showed herself to the former servant.

"H-Hi, Josette." Willie waved nervously, startled by how the Old House's mistress was instantly face-to-face with him.

"Hello, Willie," Josette replied.

"B-Barnabas and Dr. Hoffman w-wanted to s-see me," Willie stammered.

"As well as I," Josette said fondly.

Willie felt sharp inexplicable stings trailing along his joints. He realized how many of the candles throughout the entire bottom floor had been snuffed out. The chiming crystal chandelier swayed in the parlor in an uncoordinated dancing motion. The fire in the fireplace had gone dim.

The Collins ancestral ghosts were invisibly creeping all over the dilapidated house. This was not settling for Willie's nerves after the harrowing evening he'd suffered through.

"Ya wanna see me, too?" Willie was surprised by Josette's claim. "I-I'm sorry I'm late. I hafta drive Maggie home. Roger Collins..."

"I know all about that," Josette cut him off. "And I am sincerely sorry for what you and your love have suffered through tonight. But it is all worth it, Willie. Dr. Hoffman has made remarkable progress in lifting Barnabas' curse."

"S-She really c-cured him?" Willie found himself growing incredibly hopeful.

"All signs are indicating a promising result, Willie." Julia came descending down the staircase, with Barnabas following close behind.

Willie entered the parlor, and purely out of habit, retrieved some matches from the drawer of the fold-up desk. He dutifully began igniting the snuffed out candles.

Julia, and her vampric subject, filed into the parlor, along with the very lucent ghost of the Old House's mistress.

"Me and Maggie hada hell of a night," Willie reported tiredly, as he lit some blue candles on the candelabra. "Roger Collins locked us in the tower room, and the ghost of a crazy lady showed up and accused us of stealin' her babies. They were actually dolls! She sure was crazy, Barnabas."

"How did you and Maggie escape the tower room?" Barnabas inquired of his former servant.

"Two invisible ghosts named Carl and Rachel saved us from her," said Willie, as he lit even more candles.

"Rachel?" Josette had never heard of a family member bearing that name.

"Yeah, and Maggie has seen a picture of Carl in one of the Collins history books," Willie filled in. "She showed it to me. He looks just like me."

"He looks just like you?" Julia cast her gaze downward.

"Yeah, like how Maggie looks like Josette," Willie went on. "She showed me the picture in that book, and he looks like me. Maggie swore she had somehow seen him before, but she can't remember how. I wish I knew why."

Josette cast the doctor a narrow look, her arms crossed over her chest. Willie was too busy lighting candles to pick up on that, and Julia ignored her.

"Was it Carl that got you two out of the tower room?" questioned Barnabas.

"A clown skeleton did." Willie ran a hand through his sandy hair with tremors coursing through his body. "It dressed like a joker. Y'know, like a deck of cards. He was terrifyin', but he saved us from the witch."

"Thank heaven for that," Josette said relieved.

"Josette told me you're really curin' Barnabas, doctor."

Julia informed Willie about the breakthrough of Barnabas casting reflections in mirrors, and going through the whole day sleeping on Josette's bed, without retreating into the safety of his coffin.

"I'm going to conduct some tests, and watch him all night for observation," she said. "I would like your assistance. Josette has Ben Stokes occupied at Collinwood."

"I didn't mean for this to be a great inconvenience for you, Willie," Josette chimed in apologetically. "But Ben's assistance is vital to ensuring Angelique's departure."

"Is this gonna take all night?" Willie asked wearily.

"It is worth it, Willie," Julia strongly insisted. "I couldn't inform you and Maggie about all of this sooner, because we're trying to keep Angelique oblivious to our breakthroughs as much as possible."

"The sooner I'm cured and Angelique is gone, the sooner you can have your normal life, Willie," Barnabas told him.

"Yeah, but I wish I'd known this was gonna take all night before I came here," Willie muttered. "Maggie's expectin' me soon, and I can't call her to explain."

"She'll understand," Julia told him. "Why don't you finish lighting all the candles and meet us down in the basement."

"All right," Willie agreed.

Barnabas and Julia left Willie to his own devices. Josette remained with him, quietly observing him performing one of his many old chores. She was struck by the memory of how she use to purposely misplace his toolbox while he was working, much to his annoyance.

Willie glanced down at the bloodstain on the floor, and was reminded of the night he and Maggie triumphantly staked Barnabas with the splintered end of his own cane. Willie harbored many graphic memories of that very cane, but a huge part of him carried a strong sense of pride for that particular one.

"You look happy, Willie," Josette suddenly commented, gaining his attention.

"Do I?" There was a time Willie wouldn't allow people to read him so easily. Not even Jason. You had to be shifty out on the mean streets, ranging from Brooklyn to Hong Kong.

But Josette wasn't a person. She was a ghost who could always read him so effortlessly.

"You are very happy with Maggie." She smiled behind her veil .

Willie lit more candles throughout the parlor.

"She told me she loves me." Willie found himself comfortable admitting that to her, in spite of her being a dead woman, and the spitting image of his girlfriend.

(But what he didn't know was Josette already knew about this sensitive development.)

"You seem surprised that she loves you." Josette was puzzled by this reaction from him.

"She said it to me," Willie said baffled.

"Why wouldn't she?" Josette queried. "You have done much for her."

Willie was silent. "I guess I never thought I'll ever have a nice classy girl like her," he sheepishly admitted with a shrug.

"She has so much to offer you," said Josette.

"Oh, I know," Willie agreed heavily.

Josette smiled. "She can teach you to read and write."

Willie lit still more candles, then looked at her slack-jawed. "Wha?"

"Barnabas taught Ben his letters and writing," Josette continued on wistfully. "Barnabas was once a generous and kind soul, Willie. Nothing like the monster you unbound from its chains. If you had met him in another lifetime, he would have become your dear friend and educated you as well."

"Josette, I can read and write some," Willie countered affronted.

Josette arched a questioning eyebrow behind her transparent veil. "You, Willie? But you are a servant."

"Maybe, but I can do all kinda things." Willie smirked. Of course, he wouldn't dream of telling her what his other talents were. It usually went against the law. Like forging papers, and copying keys.

Josette took in his words, and nodded. "I am impressed, Willie Loomis. But I always knew you were a clever soul."

Willie grinned at her words, then lowered his gaze to the floor.

"I'm really worried 'bout the witch, Josette. Me and Maggie tried watchin' her whenever we could, but she mostly just keeps to herself. And those ghosts... I dunno what to make of 'em. They seem to be messin' with us. Messin' with Maggie's memories. They might be messin' with that family, too."

"The witch will be vanquished," Josette promised him. "Her powers will be trampled. And I will do everything within my power to protect everyone from the sins of the family's past."

"Is all of that 'bout you, and Barnabas, and the witch?" Willie questioned her.

Surprisingly, Josette didn't hesitate to answer his query. But she didn't give him a full answer, either. "Angelique was my maidservant. She was my friend. That ended when I fell in love with Barnabas, and we all have suffered since."

"Didja know she was a witch when she was servin' ya?"

Josette laughed good-naturedly. "No, I did not."

"Y'know, Mrs. Stoddard seems to know she's no good," said Willie thoughtfully. "She seems smart, and wants me and Maggie's loyalty. I hope she knows what she's doin'."

"That is what I hope as well."

Finally finished lighting all the snuffed out candles, Willie treaded down the dark musty basement steps. But he was a little frightened by what he encountered down there.

After passing by Barnabas' coffin, Willie found Dr. Hoffman's personal mad scientist laboratory in the next room. It consisted of various steaming and swirling chemistry tubes, and some strange electrical device charging up blue bolts on tiny metal rods. A large black cauldron brewed some bubbly and stinky green concoction in a far away corner, white steam faintly whiffing out of it.

What more, the doctor had Barnabas strapped to a wooden chair. She gave her subject an injection in his exposed arm vein. Willie received the full lurid visual that she was not just a mere head doctor.

Between this, the coffin in the next room, and that cell where Barnabas used to lock up Maggie, Willie was more convinced than ever that this basement was a true life horror show.

As Willie feared, it was a long grueling night.

Barnabas remained strapped up in that chair, silent and a little woozy from Julia's injections. The doctor herself was busy taking notes, and monitoring her various equipment. She routinely checked Barnabas' pulse and heartbeat. She occasionally flashed a small hand mirror on him to make sure he still cast a reflection.

Willie was constantly at Julia's call, occasionally fetching some item when she demanded. He continuously read the monitors and dials, which was a tedious task.

As the night dragged on, Willie rubbed his blurry eyes. He was no lab rat, and had no desire to ever become one. Especially when it was an all-nighter like this. He had no idea what all these monitors meant, or how they could possibly relate to getting rid of Barnabas' vampirism.

But it seemed to make sense to Julia. The monitors were not the only thing Willie read that night. He closely observed Julia's attitude toward Barnabas. She seemed almost kind to him as she continued to subject him to her treatments. She spoke softly to him, and gave his hand a tender tight squeeze as she took one last sample of blood.

Willie wondered how their relationship had blossomed while he was living his life with Maggie. What did Julia see in Barnabas to treat him this gently? Was he ever abusive to her like how he was to Willie and Maggie?

Willie still managed to report to his old master what he knew of what the witch was up to, which frankly wasn't much. Barnabas was not impressed with Willie's lack of knowledge on the matter.

As the crack of dawn drew nearer, Julia checked her wrist watch.

"Barnabas, I'd like to take this to the next level," she said.

"I as well," he responded to her eagerly.

Willie didn't know what they were talking about.

At six o'clock, the wee morning light wanly shone through the snowy forest trees leading up to the Collins estate. Sam drove Maggie up Widows Hill in his station wagon. They arrived at the ancient house that used to be Maggie's prison.

Parking next to Willie's muddy junker mobile, Sam switched off his engine. He and Maggie hurried out of the respectable station wagon, dressed in their coats and boots. They stomped through the snow and up to the Old House.

Willie hadn't returned home after he'd dropped Maggie off the night before. She was agitated. She couldn't decide if she was angry or worried that Barnabas and Julia thoughtlessly kept him out all night.

Upon witnessing Maggie's turmoil, and unable to sleep because of it, Sam decided it was best to drive his daughter up to the Old House. They ultimately agreed to go in his station wagon.

As they trudged closer to the Old House, a sharp chill ran down their spines. A sign that the ghosts were about, and powerfully guarding the manor through the winter air.

Maggie slowed her pace and stepped up to the front doors cautiously with Sam by her side. When she reached them, they abruptly flung themselves wide open.

Maggie was startled. She was used to encountering all of these ghostly spooks, but when she laid eyes on her former tormentor standing fearfully in the entrance, her jaw dropped.

"Barnabas," she managed to utter.

Sam was equally as speechless. Shock washed over his bearded face.

"Step closer into the light, Barnabas," encouraged Julia's husky voice from inside the house.

Maggie couldn't see her passed Barnabas. The vampire stood reluctantly at the open doorway.

"Go on, Barnabas," persisted the doctor, in a tone like she was encouraging a small child to potty train.

There was a very pregnant pause. Barnabas slowly stepped out onto the front porch. Maggie and Sam stepped aside so he could properly reach the early morning light.

Barnabas was unaffected. His skin didn't melt, nor did he burst into flame. His physical strength didn't deteriorate, either.

Julia and Willie eagerly stepped out from the house.

Willie joined Maggie at her side. Taking her hand, their fingers warmly entwined. He brightly watched his old master.

Barnabas took a deep breath as the morning light fully bathed upon him through the weathered peeling columns of the front porch.

---

At the Great House of Collinwood, Elizabeth sat at the head of the kitchen table for a simple early breakfast of grapefruit.

It was seven o'clock, and for the first time in days, there was a little sunshine. But bleak grayness gloomily filtered through the kitchen windows. Elizabeth could never fathom why this house must always be so dreary, even with sunlight streaming in through its windows.

Rogers sat opposite of his sister, barely acknowledging his grapefruit. He looked a little downtrodden. His not-so-lovely-bride was absent from the table. Elizabeth certainly hadn't minded that. She wondered if the couple had a quarrel. If so, she hoped it would make her brother realize that this marriage was an ignorant mistake. Then she wouldn't have to do what she needed to do.

Cassandra was not the only one absent from the table. David was still sick in bed. The matriarch arranged for Dr. Woodard to check on him today. Mrs. Johnson was at the stove cooking the boy's oatmeal.

Carolyn sat at her spot at the table, and Vicki sat across from her, along with Burke, who sat on David's seat. Vicki invited him over. Elizabeth spied them talking amongst themselves before breakfast. She assumed they were discussing their wedding and the West Wing.

It was uncharacteristically and uncomfortably quiet at the table. It blended naturally with the dour atmosphere filtering into the kitchen. Even the usually chatty Mrs. Johnson was silent as she prepared David's breakfast. She left to present it to him on a breakfast tray.

Carolyn decided to speak, hoping it would lighten the mood. "The caterers are doing a fantastic job setting up the Great Hall for the party, uncle Roger. The weekend can't come fast enough. This is really going to be a ball."

Elizabeth repressed a deep sigh. The last thing she wanted to chat about was this frivolous party. Surprisingly, Roger seemed to agree with her sentiment. For once, he didn't want to discuss his upcoming Christmas bash.

"Kitten, how did Joe Haskell seem to you when he visited you last night?"

"Joe was here last night?" Carolyn seemed surprise by this news.

"Yes, he came to see you," Elizabeth said from the head of the table. "Remember?"

"I didn't see Joe last night." Carolyn frowned, puzzled.

"You didn't?" Vicki leaned in slightly across from the heiress.

"No." Carolyn shook her head.

"But he came to see you," Elizabeth reiterated. "I told him you were upstairs and I saw him go up."

"I don't know what to tell you, mother." Carolyn shrugged. "Joe didn't come to see me."

"Why is that?" Vicki wondered.

"Who knows, maybe he has some surprise for the party," Carolyn theorized enthusiastically.

Elizabeth noticed Roger tightly squeezing shut his eyes. His face was dreadfully miserable. She wondered if he knew what Joe truly was doing at Collinwood last night.

Burke encouragingly squeezed his fiancée's hand, wordlessly urging her to make her announcement.

"I've got something to say," Vicki spoke up. "Something important."

"What is it, Vicki?" Elizabeth glanced at her.

Burke gave the governess' hand another encouraging and affectionate squeeze.

"I decided to resume the search for my parents," Vicki told the room at large.

"Oh," Carolyn responded. "What made you want to continue with that?"

"Josette sent me a message through Sarah urging me to continue my search," Vicki explained.

"Sarah?" Carolyn tilted her head. "David's little friend? She came to you?"

"Yes, and it seems Josette wants to help me like she did before," said Vicki.

"You honestly think this Sarah is real," Roger drawled dismissively.

"Sam and Maggie Evans have also seen her," Burke interjected heatedly.

"Yes, and she gave Maggie her doll sometime before she was rescued," Vicki added.

"Ah," Roger responded in the driest tone Elizabeth had ever heard come out of him. She felt a little comforted that whatever he was suffering through hadn't completely drained him of his brusque personality.

"Is the primary reason for your renewed search merely because a bunch of ghosts and goblins ordered you to?" Roger demanded of his son's governess.

"Tact never was your strongest suit, Roger," Burke sniped.

"No, that isn't my primary reason," Vicki curtly countered. "I think it is for the best that I have some closure to my past before I move forward with my future with Burke. And my continuing employment with this family."

"Is the wedding postponed?" asked Carolyn.

"No," Burke answered her quickly.

"Will this interfere with your tutoring David?" Roger inquired pointedly to Vicki.

"It shouldn't," said Burke. "I have pretty strong connections that I'm planning to take great advantage of."

"We're hoping the search won't take too long," said Vicki. "We're going to start after Christmas."

"You really thought this through," Roger said lightly, rubbing his chin.

"Do I have your blessing?" Vicki asked him.

"It's your life, Vicki." Roger took a quick sip of his coffee. "How you make sense of it is your own affair."

Vicki etched a small smile on her lips, then switched her attention to Elizabeth. The matriarch hadn't uttered a word since she made her announcement. The expression on Elizabeth's face was purely stoic.

"Do I have your blessing, Mrs. Stoddard?"

Elizabeth's facial expression softened. "Yes, Vicki. I really do wish you the best in all of this."

Vicki grinned, thankful and relieved she'd received the blessings of her employers.

The remainder of breakfast went along smoothly. But, Burke yearningly opined that he would rather have had a breakfast steak as opposed to grapefruit. Politely, Vicki didn't mention that she had never heard of such a thing.

When they were finished, they filed out of the kitchen. Roger crossed the foyer to reach the study, while Elizabeth headed for the drawing room. Burke, Vicki, and Carolyn headed for the staircase. But a loud knock behind the front doors froze everyone in their tracks before they could reach their desired destinations.

Roger strolled over to the front doors and answered them resentfully. He was greeted by the sight of Barnabas in the morning light. He wore his usual cloak-like coat, and was equipped with his ever present wolf-head cane.

Julia stood by his side, garbed in her usual green coat. Willie and Maggie stood behind both of them in their modest winter wear.

"Well, good morning, Barnabas," Roger said somewhat invitingly. "You look very healthy this morning."

Barnabas did feel healthy. He felt very much alive in the natural light of day. A glorious feeling he had forgotten for so long.

"Dr. Hoffman's treatments look to be working wonders on you." Roger eyed his "cousin" from head to toe.

"Yes, they have been." Barnabas nodded. "I feel marvelously rejuvenated."

"He's coming along splendidly," Julia said a little proudly.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," Barnabas said from the doorstep.

"Good morning, Barnabas," Elizabeth replied across from the open doors in the drawing room.

"Good morning, Carolyn," Barnabas added to the silky blonde heiress.

"Morning," Carolyn returned brightly from the staircase.

Barnabas laid his eyes on the dark-haired governess. "Good morning, Vicki."

"Good morning, Barnabas," Vicki replied warmly.

"It is such a pleasant morning," Barnabas exclaimed to her. "Would you like to join me for a little morning stroll?"

"I'd love to," Vicki accepted.

She turned to Burke. "This shouldn't take too long."

"Willie and I will wait for you up in the West Wing." Burke tenderly rubbed her chin. "We'll go over today's plan when you get back."

The two shared a quick kiss, and Vicki rushed to put on her long sky-blue winter coat. Even though Burke sounded fine with the prospect of his fiancée going off for a simple stroll with the mysterious British cousin of the Collins family, he inwardly had an ill feeling about it.

As Vicki put on her long winter coat, Elizabeth politely asked Julia, "Would you like a cup of coffee, Dr. Hoffman?"

"Yes, I would love some."

The doctor snuck Barnabas a snarky glance as he admired Vicki putting on her coat.

Willie and Maggie tried to avoid looking at Roger as they followed Julia into the Great House. Instead they watched Barnabas and Vicki with mixed emotions. They still found it horrifying that Barnabas seemingly intended to pursue her.

But they were also greatly relieved that he could step out into the day. They'd never seen him look so - human.

Up on the second story, the witch, with her head draped in a lacy black veil to hide her face, contemplated what she had just witness. The man she'd cursed existed impossibly in the daylight. She had watched his approach through the window of her and Roger's bedroom, her heart crumbling.

How could something so insignificant as science lift a powerful curse? A curse she had cast. A witch who was an accomplished protégé to the evil Judah Zachary.

But that wasn't what made her heart crumble. Barnabas made her love him and then broke her heart. He treated her monstrously, so she in turn punished him by turning him into a monster. An act that won the respect of her peers in the netherworld. But now he seemed to have escaped her vengeance, bringing her own fate drastically into question.

Cassandra would not allow him to get away with what he did to her.

---

Josette delicately flew through the snow-covered evergreens, closely observing Barnabas and Vicki trailing along the snowy path in the woods.

The ghost noted the elated expression on Barnabas' contented face as he reveled in strolling in the daylight with Victoria Winters. A woman he harbored serious affections for. Affections causing Josette great confliction.

"I'm glad you are feeling so much better, Barnabas," Vicki exclaimed as she strolled closely by his side.

"I am pleased with Dr. Hoffman's treatments," said Barnabas. "She is simply extraordinary at what she sets out to accomplish. It is truly remarkable."

"I'm glad she was able to help you," said Vicki. "You look so much different in the daylight. I'm so used seeing you at night."

"I'd love to see you more often in the daylight," Barnabas said silkily.

Vicki inhaled the crisp winter air, and received a potent whiff of jasmine wrinkling her nose.

"Josette?" She halted, staring up wide-eyed at the snow coated evergreens.

Barnabas paused along with her. He glanced up at the snow-capped trees, but saw nothing. He inhaled the lingering phantom scent.

"Do you smell that?" Vicki asked Barnabas in a gasp. "It's Josette's perfume."

"Josette's perfume?" Barnabas frowned. "How can you possibly know of her perfume?"

"Her spirit used to give me guidance."

Barnabas listened to her silently. He didn't know Josette had past encounters with Vicki.

"And I believe she's trying to help me now," Vicki finished.

"The spirit of Josette Collins watches over you?" Barnabas cocked an eyebrow.

"I know it sounds too fantastic, but it's true, Barnabas," Vicki said defensively. "She saved my life once."

Barnabas grinned at her kindly. "I don't doubt that, Vicki. Josette Collins was a generous and caring soul."

Vicki smiled, relieved he wasn't viewing her claim as crazy.

"She gave me a message yesterday," Vicki confided. "She thinks I should resume the search for my parents."

"Your parents?" Barnabas creased his brow. "I thought you said that wasn't important to you."

"But Josette thinks I should resume the search," said Vicki. "It's the main reason I came here to begin with. I wanted to know why I was left at the foundling home in New York City, and who was anonymously sending me money from Bangor when I was growing up. But I was sidetracked by Burke and the Collinses. They made me feel like family. That's something I always cherished."

"Yes, I know," said Barnabas. "How do you suppose Josette wants you to continue on with your search."

"I do need to know where I come from," Vicki amended. "But Josette's message was terrifying. Little Sarah, David's ghost friend, and a Collins ancestor, was the messenger. Words from the note that was found with me when I was an infant came oozing down my bedroom walls like black blood. There were flashing lights, and I even heard whispers of those words from the note breathing into my ears. 'Her name is Victoria, I cannot take care of her.'"

"Are you afraid to know who your parents truly are?" Barnabas queried gently.

"A little," Vicki admitted, lowering her gaze. "But I do really need this closure. I hope they are nice people living happily somewhere, thinking about me and wondering how I am. But no matter how this turns out, Burke will always be my family."

With that last sentence, Barnabas lowered his dark gaze slightly. Something the eavesdropping Josette noticed vigorously.

"And I'll always be grateful to the Collins family," Vicki went on sincerely. "They've been so generous to me."

---

The snowy cemetery was oddly shrouded in a calming tranquility. Elizabeth, garbed in her long red coat, matching winter boots, gloves, and a scarf, trudged through the thick snow as she passed numerous frosted headstones.

She held a bouquet of bright red roses in her gloved hands.

Mrs. Johnson tagged along with her, wearing a blue winter coat, boots, gloves, and a long black scarf. She'd drove the house mistress to the cemetery. She was the only one who could at the moment.

Elizabeth had no one else to drive her. After all those years of locking herself up in that mausoleum, she still couldn't get used to not being its prisoner. Wandering through the strange, outside world was still very unnerving.

But she had an appointment to keep.

It seemed particularly fitting for Mrs. Johnson to come visit the grave with her before she had her private meeting, considering the conversation they'd had about its occupant.

In the heart of the cemetery, the two middle-aged women found the ice cold headstone of Bill Malloy. It was plainly engraved:

William Malloy

Beloved Friend

1915 – 1966

Even though Elizabeth's money paid for the headstone, this was the first time she'd ever seen it personally. She couldn't leave the house to attend his funeral. Distantly purchasing a piece of stone was all she could do for him.

She handed the roses over to her maid. "Here, Mrs. Johnson. You may place them on his grave."

With liquid eyes, Mrs. Johnson did just that. She pulled out a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and wiped her tear-stained face.

"I still miss him terribly, Mrs. Stoddard." She croaked mournfully. "He really helped me to provide for my children. A-After my husband p-passed away, he b-became my closest f-friend."

"I miss him, too," Elizabeth murmured sadly. "Bill was a dear friend."

"He loved you very much." Mrs. Johnson sniffed.

"He loves you still," Bill's wispy voice whispered longingly in Elizabeth's ear.

"Yes, I know." Elizabeth swallowed, hanging her head guiltily.

She allowed Mrs. Johnson an additional twenty minutes to pay her respect to her former employer and friend.

"Wait for me in the car, Mrs. Johnson," Elizabeth instructed her maid. "I'll be right along."

"All right, Mrs. Stoddard."

Elizabeth watched her leave the cemetery. She then noticed a dark-haired figure in a long dark coat sprinting up to a secluded tomb yards away.

"Liz, you have to tell Miss Winters the truth." Bill materialized before her in a stinging chill, drenched and covered in seaweed. He carried the salty stench of the sea. "You and I both know it's unnecessary for her to go looking for her parents again. You've got to tell her you are her mother, and why you gave her up to that foundling home."

"I will, Bill," Elizabeth said steadily. "I've been meaning to, and I still intend to do so. But first I need to protect all of my family from Cassandra."

"I understand, Liz." Bill hung his head regretfully. "I only wish things turned out differently. I should've mustered up the damn courage to - figure out a better way to help you with your family when you wound up pregnant from that bastard over there."

"You were a God-send during those dark days, Bill," Elizabeth said reassuringly. "You cared for me during my pregnancy, and helped keep it a secret. You mailed my money to her from Bangor. You even helped me come up with names before she was even born."

"Any kid of Liz Collins should have as strong a name as their brassy mother," Bill proclaimed.

"You wanted to name her Elizabeth." She laughed fondly, her dark eyes becoming misty.

"I'm pretty bias." Bill shrugged nonchalantly with seaweed clinging more naturally to him. "But Victoria is a very strong and beautiful name."

"Of course it is, I selected it." Elizabeth smiled smugly, and then wiped her eyes with her gloved hand. She lowered her gaze somberly. "I hope she'll understand."

"And what about that beast over there." Bill gestured toward the shadowy figure in the mausoleum.

"He'll never know," Elizabeth assured him. "Will you guide me through this, Bill?"

"You know the answer to that, Liz."

Strengthening her resolve, Elizabeth left her dearly departed friend, and trooped across the snow.

Passing by a simple hundred-year-old gravestone under a snowy maple tree, engraved Laura Murdoch Radcliffe, the head of the Collins family ventured closer to the marble and brick mausoleum. She reluctantly approached her ally.

"I need your help."

"So, you call me to a cemetery in the dead of winter?"

"Let's go inside."

The man followed her into the deserted crypt. They descended down into the dark moldy vault which overtime, became a morbid refuge for the barmy caretaker to restore his valuable records of the poor deceased. The dusty obscured volumes provided unusual company for the graves with their plaques screwed onto its musty and cold marble walls.

Elizabeth and her ally stood before the plaque engraved L. Murdoch Stockbridge.

"I need your help with Roger."

He chuckled snidely. "It really is an incredible lark, Liz. Every time you ask for my help, were standin' by a dead body."

Elizabeth glared savagely as he flashed her his patented cocky grin.

The ghost of Bill looked on disgusted from the stone steps. He cursed the fact that he wasn't the one who comforted Elizabeth when Paul Stoddard callously broke her heart all those years ago.

Why did it have to be Jason McGuire?

---

Next Chapter: The Witch's Battles