Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine
CHAPTER 16: THE WITCH ON THE COLLINS GROUNDS
Through the many centuries of her restless existence, Angelique had never felt so victorious. The sight of Barnabas hopelessly gawking at her resurrected body, looking so lost and defeated, realization harshly settling that he could never be rid of her – the witch thought she'd never seen anything so beautiful. His dark, soulful eyes staring at her in naked fear. She was almost tempted to lose herself in those eyes. It felt to her like there was no one else in the ancestral mansion. Only her and Barnabas. Just as it should be.
"Aren't you relieved that I'm alright, Barnabas?" Now back to her Cassandra persona, the witch almost kept her taunting tone at bay.
"You – have completely regenerated," Barnabas observed somberly, despairingly.
"Yes, that seems to be the correct term," Julia chimed in wryly, squinting her eyes at the dark-haired witch.
Cassandra was reminded that she and Barnabas weren't truly alone. That spinster doctor was present, along with Barnabas' two lesser servants; Willie still stood stiffly at the doors like a butler, while Maggie the maid sat on the foyer's center table with her legs crossed. Nicholas still stood in a gloating stance by her side at the doorstep.
"Obviously, your claims of my sister's appalling demise were greatly muddled, doctor," Nicholas told Julia smugly.
The drawing room's doors flung open; Carolyn came upon the sight of their latest visitors. "Cassandra!" she said surprised. "You're back from Windcliff?"
"Yes, I am, Carolyn," Cassandra replied politely.
Roger darted out of the drawing room just behind Carolyn, groggily rubbing the haggard contours of his forehead. He gazed across the foyer. "Cassandra." His pale face lost even more color.
"Hello, Roger, darling," Cassandra returned sweetly.
Then Elizabeth emerged from the study. The sight of Cassandra had her dark eyes sparking.
"Hello, Elizabeth," Cassandra said pleasantly.
"I see you have returned." The matriarch lifted her prim nose. The presence of the smug goateed stranger hadn't gone unnoticed. "Who's your companion?"
"Why, you must be the alluring Mrs. Stoddard," Nicholas spoke cheerily, triumphantly stepping his way passed Willie at the threshold. He jovially approached the matriarch, stretching out his hand. "I'm Nicholas Blair, Cassandra's brother."
"How do you do." Elizabeth reluctantly made to shake his hand, only for him to presumptuously lift her hand to his smirking lips. "It is my great pleasure, Mrs. Stoddard."
"And I thought Jason was a smarmy jackass," Bill's voice grumbled in her ear.
"Cassandra," Roger spoke up suddenly, his face dead serious. "I'd like for you to join me in the drawing room. We need to speak alone."
"Yes, we do," Cassandra agreed.
Elizabeth glared as her brother's unwanted bride stepped over the threshold.
Cassandra snuck a quick glance at Barnabas, then followed her husband into the drawing room. Carolyn watched warily as the drawing room's doors closed like the iron gates of a prison. It felt overwhelmingly wrong to leave her vulnerable uncle alone with that woman.
"It looks like smooth sailing for our whirlwind newlyweds." With twinkling eyes, Nicholas winked at Maggie.
The house maid repressed a scoff.
"I'm so glad to be home." Cassandra pressed her back to the closed drawing room's doors, as Roger stood rigidly in front of the burning hearth. She observed his bloodshot eyes and disastrously uncombed hair. "I see you've missed me," she blandly stated.
Roger slid her a hazy glare. "Cassandra, I tried desperately to forget you."
Cassandra dropped her mesmerizing gaze to the floor, feigning a misty look. "Did all of that hard drinking really help you to forget about me? To forget all that we've shared?"
Roger didn't answer. He averted his conflicted eyes from hers.
Cassandra looked at him levelly. "No, of course it hasn't. What we shared was special and real." She slowly advanced on him. "Our time in Boston was the most magical time in my life." She crept closer to him. "It felt so right – beyond any reason – to elope. But once you brought me here, all the happiness of Boston fell away. Our marriage is crumbling. It even took a toll on my own health. Oh, darling, can we overcome this? I can't bear to even think of living the rest of my life without you!"
"You have done something to me," Roger accused her steadily.
"What do you mean?" Cassandra feigned bewilderment.
"I – somehow don't feel like my natural self when I'm with you," Roger muttered groggily.
"F-Feel – feel like your natural self?" Cassandra stammered.
"I know you've been seeing Joe Haskell." Roger's voice hardened.
A shocked Cassandra reached inside her red coat. She produced a golden cigarette lighter. An item she conjured up before she'd come to Collinwood. "I don't have the faintest idea what you are insinuating." She flicked the insidious lighter on in front of his face, but the little dancing flame was instantly extinguished.
Roger's pupils widened violently as they rolled to the back of his head. His ghastly blank stare glared imperiously at the witch.
"I want you out of our home!" he demanded, but it wasn't Roger's voice that bellowed passed his lips. "I never approved of your charade of a marriage to Barnabas. Of course, looking back on that, I was correct to think ill of you. I only wish I'd done more to expel you from my family."
Cassandra's round eyes drastically widened. "Joshua Collins?"
"I will not allow you to harm my family again!" Joshua raged through the body of his descendant and doppelganger. "Leave this house at once, witch!"
"You heard that right, Angelique."
The witch threw her heated glare across the drawing room to the red velvet chair sitting against the panel wall. Josette sat there regally, legs crossed. She presented herself like a victorious queen sitting on her throne.
"I cleanse this house of your bile! This is no longer your sanctuary."
Cassandra bitterly deposited the lighter back inside her coat pocket. "I'll find a way to vanquish all of you wretched ghosts! Mark my words, this is not over!" she seethed.
"I know," Josette responded from the chair. "Au revoir!"
Cassandra stormed out of the drawing room, but quickly regained her composure as she returned to the foyer. "Nicholas, we should be going now."
"I thought you were reconciling with your bride-groom," Nicholas said, taken aback. "What was with the harsh tones in there?"
"We decided to take it one step at a time," exclaimed Cassandra.
"Oh – very well." Nicholas shrugged.
Cassandra slid her cool gaze to Barnabas. "Good night."
"Good night," Barnabas replied, inwardly baffled by this exchange.
"Well, I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," Nicholas stated to the room good-naturedly. "Good night Mrs, Stoddard, Carolyn, Maggie."
"Night, Nicky," Willie chimed in with a cocky wave.
Nicholas shot him a quick steely look as he and his so-called sister departed the Great House.
"What was all of that about?" wondered Carolyn.
"I don't have the faintest idea," Elizabeth said wearily.
"I mean, didn't uncle Roger just loudly throw Cassandra out?" Carolyn queried.
Roger himself stumbled out of the drawing room, looking sickly pale, woozy, clutching his throbbing head. "Kitten."
Carolyn immediately rushed to aid her ailing uncle.
"Can you please take me up to my room?" he asked her weakly.
"Mr. Collins, what are your symptoms?" Julia interjected, rushing up to them.
"He's been up all night drowning his sorrows over that woman," Carolyn explained.
"Here, let me help you get him upstairs," Julia offered.
The doctor helped the heiress gently lure the ill rich man up the staircase.
While Willie, Maggie and Elizabeth watched the trio carefully ascended the stairs, Barnabas trailed his dark gaze to the opened drawing room's doors. Josette's ghost lovingly smiled at him. Barnabas' heart warmed at the sight. He then realized what happened; Josette cast Angelique out of Collinwood. But the former vampire didn't quite understand why Roger was ill. (Apart from his obvious bender.) But as quickly as she'd appeared, Barnabas' great love vanished with a tingling chill.
Someone else entered the foyer. "I thought I heard company." Vicki came in from the study. She smiled warmly at the Collinses' supposed English cousin. "Hello, Barnabas."
"Hello, Vicki," Barnabas affectionately returned. "I hope you've been well."
"I have, thanks," Vicki replied. "Though things have been quite – eventful lately." She paused as she caught a scent in the air. "Do I smell jasmine?"
The small group in the foyer paused to take a whiff of the air.
"I do smell jasmine," Elizabeth marveled.
As for Willie and Maggie, they hardly noticed the scent at first. They knew Josette had been around since she'd rescued them from those terrifying time shadows. They supposed they'd merely grown accustomed to her flowery scent.
"Josette must be here," said Vicki. "Her ghost always smells of jasmine."
"I'd like to think Josette is here, too," said Barnabas, staring at Vicki fondly.
Maggie looked on, disapproving of the way the former vampire was checking out her friend.
Not long ago, Elizabeth would've thought that statement Vicki made was crazy. But she now had her own ghost companion, and she'd come to terms with the fact that Josette's ghost had always made her presence known. She was not a figment of David's overactive imagination. And she'd even helped Vicki when she was held captive by Matthew Morgan. Bill himself had confirmed that whole story. But there were more serious situations at hand. "Vicki, I'm afraid there are more pressing matters. Cassandra is out of Windcliff."
"What?" Vicki said disheartened. "Where is she?"
"Roger dismissed her," Barnabas filled in with his elegant voice. "Perhaps Josette's ghost helped him to realize how deeply troubled Cassandra is, and that is why the air is blessed with jasmine."
Elizabeth raised quite the brow. She may have come to accept that Josette and the Collins ghosts were real, but that didn't hide the fact that cousin Barnabas made the most peculiar statements at times.
"Yeah, perhaps," Vicki said thoughtfully. "Josette also intervened when Roger's ex-wife Laura was causing trouble here."
"How interesting," commented Barnabas.
"Did David see Cassandra?" Vicki inquired worriedly.
"No," Elizabeth assured the governess, patting her shoulder. "He doesn't know yet, and I'm determined that he'll never again live in fear of her. I'll be damned if she ever steps foot in this house again."
"I hope not," Vicki murmured. "David seemed so sure Cassandra made him sick."
"Cassandra made David sick?" Maggie cut in, surprised.
"With witchcraft," murmured Vicki. "He thinks she's a witch."
"I don't think he's entirely wrong," Elizabeth snipped.
"Where's Cassandra now?" Vicki asked Elizabeth.
"She's staying with her brother," Barnabas informed her helpfully. "Nicholas Blair is his name. He recently arrived in town."
Up the staircase, Burke stepped into the foyer. He spotted the crowd below. "David is doing his homework now, Liz."
"Thank you, Burke," Elizabeth replied.
The businessman regarded Barnabas as he descended down the staircase. "Good evening, Barnabas," he said civilly.
"Good evening, Mr. Devlin," Barnabas returned coolly.
Once he made it down the stairs, Burke quickly came to his fiancee. "How about we have dinner together at the Inn?" he suggested.
"Oh, I don't know," said Vicki. "David will likely need help with his studies."
"I'll assist David with his studies if he needs it," Elizabeth told her kindly. "Go and have a lovely evening with your fiance."
Vicki smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mrs. Stoddard."
"Have a nice evening you kids," Maggie said to the couple as they shrugged on their winter coats.
"Oh, I think we will, Maggie," said Burke.
"Vicki, are you still enjoying the melody of Josette's music box?" Barnabas asked out of the blue.
"Why, yes, Barnabas." Vicki smiled. "It's a lovely gift. I can't thank you enough."
That made Barnabas grin.
Burke and Vicki said a quick farewell and left for their date.
Just then, Julia emerged from the upstairs landing. "Your brother is resting comfortably in his room, Mrs. Stoddard," she reported from the staircase.
"Thank you for helping him, Dr. Hoffman," Elizabeth said graciously.
"It was no trouble at all," Julia insisted as she reached the bottom landing. "I am a doctor. It's only logical that I assist."
"We should retire to the Old House, doctor," Barnabas interjected.
"Very, well." Julia nodded.
"Willie, why don't you accompany us out the door," Barnabas said pointedly.
"A-Awright, Barnabas." Willie was wary of this odd demand. Nevertheless, he quickly threw on his winter coat, and escorted the doctor and his old master out the doors. Alone on the dark, icy porch, Barnabas commanded, "I want you to find where Angelique and this Nicholas Blair are residing, Willie."
"How the hell am I gonna find that?" Willie griped. "They're witches! They could be hole up in a cave, or some dark castle with flyin' monkeys. Y'know, like in those stories."
"I don't think so." Barnabas shook his head, his tone curt. "I have the distinct feeling they're on the Collins grounds. Perhaps residing in one of our many abandoned houses."
"You can feel that?" Julia gave her patient a narrow look, her voice misting the frigid night air.
"I think that witch still has her spell on ya, Barnabas," Willie muttered.
Barnabas cast his servant a rather appalled look. "What makes you say that?"
"Ya can feel her in a way that don't sound normal." Willie shrugged.
Barnabas had no retort to that.
Inside, Maggie watched the house mistress move to the drawing room, warming herself by the fire. "You may leave for the evening, Maggie."
"Thank you, Mrs. Stoddard," Maggie replied from the foyer.
She reminded herself that there was something she needed to tell her employer. Something the matriarch deserved to know. The maid creaked into the drawing room. "Mrs. Stoddard, I hate to dump all this on you, considering what you just went through with Cassandra. But you might need to brace yourself for more unwanted visitors."
Elizabeth stared at her servant intently. "What do you mean?"
"Jason McGuire visited our cottage last night," Maggie reluctantly let out. "I don't know why he's back. He was drunk as a skunk. In his ramblings, he mentioned he was summoned by some queen in the sky – or something like that. Do you know what that means?"
"I was there, Liz," Bill's ghost whispered in her ear. "But Maggie and Loomis don't know you recruited him."
The matriarch took in her ghost's words. She watched the dancing flames in the hearth, its shadows veiling her face. She trailed her gaze to her maid. "I am no expert on the intoxicated idiocy of Jason McGuire."
"I know he's caused you a lot trouble," said Maggie. "I thought you deserved to know that he's back. Or was. I don't really know if he's left Collinsport."
"I appreciate you telling me," Elizabeth told her.
"Aren't you worried about what he might do?" asked Maggie. "I think he might have it out for your family."
"No, I'm not worried." The certainty flashing across her face was absolute. "I can handle Jason."
Maggie was still unsure what to make of this Jason situation, but she did find herself admiring the older woman's tenacity for not being intimidated by him. "All right." She nodded.
Willie quietly creaked back inside the Great House. He stood in front of the shut front doors. Maggie and Elizabeth watched him come in.
"You and Willie have a pleasant evening," Elizabeth said to her maid.
"Thank you, Mrs. Stoddard." Maggie ventured out to the foyer. "We're done at Collinwood for the night," she happily told her boyfriend. "Let's go home. I can warm us up some leftover stew." She slipped on her winter coat, grabbed her purse, and she and Willie were out the doors.
"Hey, I'll just take ya home," Willie informed Maggie once they reached the dark, freezing porch. "Barnabas wants me to look for the witches' hideout."
"What?"
"Barnabas thinks his witch and that Nicky guy are hidin' out on the Collins grounds," Willie explained.
"And Barnabas wants you to find their gingerbread house now?" Maggie said incredulously.
"Yeah." Willie nodded.
"I should've known he'd make you do something like this in the middle of the night," she said tiredly. "And it's freezing no less!"
Willie looked at her silently.
"I want you to be careful," Maggie said worriedly. "I want you to wear that medallion Josette gave us. I don't want you getting bewitched like Joe and Roger."
"I'll wear the necklace," Willie promised.
"Yes, I know." Maggie smiled. "I just like to nag, I guess."
"Hey, I ain't complainin', I need the necklace anyhow."
Maggie grinned.
"Is it at the cottage?" Willie asked.
"Yes, but there's a stop I'd like to make on the way there," said Maggie. "It's a long shot, but I want to look into it."
She eagerly grabbed hold of his hand as they trudged their way to the Junker Mobile.
At the cold, dark abandoned house where Nicholas now resided, the warlock tutted at Angelique as he lit some black candles scattered around the parlor.
The dark-haired woman curled up by the warm fire. Not that a cold-blooded woman like herself could ever be affected by the bone chilling winter. There was just something romantic about nestling in front of the fire on winter nights.
Nicholas donned a posh gray smoking jacket, while Angelique was draped in a silky black negligee that accentuated her voluptuous curves and dark hair. It also made her ocean-blue eyes even more striking.
Once Nicholas finished lighting all the black candles, bathing the parlor in a eerie orange glow with sinister shadows leaping up to the high ceilings, he critically faced the witch. "Well, my dear, I don't know what I expected to happened at Collinwood, but you automatically being dismissed by a feeble, hungover man was way below my expectations."
"I wasn't expelled by an ailing mortal!" Angelique shot at him offended. "It was Josette and Joshua Collins."
"What!" He laughed. "Your dead nemesis! Oh, Angelique, these pesky ghosts have been your Achilles' heel for far too long. They're making you look pathetic!"
"I am not defeated yet!" Angelique hissed with a fiery gleam.
"Really?" mocked Nicholas. "You could've fooled me. Then why aren't you ruling Collinwood right now with an iron fist? Instead of licking your wounds here in my empty parlor?"
"I'm not licking my wounds!" Angelique spat, annoyed. "I'm devising my next move."
"Oh, really?" the warlock responded skeptically.
"I have a servant that will help me get close to that family again," claimed the witch.
Up at the spooky house sitting on the crest of the frost covered Widows Hill, Carolyn pensively creaked down the shadowy, deserted corridors of the second story. She'd helped Dr. Hoffman lay her ill uncle to bed. Carolyn had often seen Uncle Roger hungover. But she'd never seen him looking so pale or sickly.
As she creaked closer to her bedroom, her worry for her uncle worsened.
David says that Cassandra made him sick, she gloomily thought. She probably did the same just now to poor Uncle Roger! I wonder what really happened - her being carried off to Windcliff like that? Why did she come back so suddenly? Things were so much better before she came along. Even if things were never normal here. She paused in front of her bedroom door. She really could be an actual witch. I always knew she was off. Something's obviously not right with her. I wonder if Prof. Stokes can determine what that is.
A silvery, wispy substance streamed through her door. It illuminated the dark corridor in a white, serene glow. It coalesced into the appearance of a ghost.
Carolyn's eyes bulged. At least this one wasn't possessing her. The flowing, transparent specter strikingly shared her likeness. It was truly bizarre. The ghost wore a slinky thin dress from the Regency era. She wore her own silky locks in loopy ringlets.
"It is about time you arrived," the ghost sternly chastised her lookalike descendant. "Your gentleman companion needs you most urgently."
She immediately streamed back through the door. Carolyn hadn't even had time to scream. The young woman froze, staring at her door, clearly spooked. She quickly yanked it opened.
She found her identical ghost anxiously floating in her bedroom, along with another individual. A living flesh and blood man. Though he looked like death. Her boyfriend Joe was slumped on the floor, his back resting against the side of her canopy bed. He tightly clutched one of her frilly bed pillows to his chest. His blue eyes were troubled and blank.
"Joe?" Carolyn quickly ran inside her room, slamming the door behind her. "What's wrong? How did you get in here?"
Joe registered her presence. He lifted his blank gaze up at her. "I had a really rough day, Carolyn."
"You certainly look like it." She joined him on the floor. "Do you know that a ghost looking just like me is fretting over you?"
"I am your ancestor Millicent Collins," the wispy prim ghost cut in. "I am a close friend to Joe Haskell."
"Really?" A frown marked Carolyn's brow. "Since when?"
"For days," Joe told Carolyn, terribly aggrieved.
"I possessed your body recently," the ghost informed her descendant.
Carolyn stiffly paused. "When I had that mysterious fit in the drawing room!" She figured it out.
"Yes," confirmed Millicent.
"You caused that!" Carolyn angrily shot at her.
"I was merely protecting Joe," Millicent responded rationally.
Carolyn failed to find anything rational about that defense.
"Another one of my ancestors possessed my body today." The heiress sighed. "To warn Vicki that we shouldn't release some warlock who cursed my family a long time ago. I was told that this ancestor has a cockney accent.
"That's been my day," she finished flippantly. "What does Joe need protection from?" she asked Millicent.
"The witch, Carolyn." Joe looked at her haunted.
"Cassandra, of course," concluded Carolyn with a knowing nod. She didn't really find this shocking.
Joe however was honestly surprised by what she'd just said. "You know about Cassandra?"
"She bewitched Uncle Roger," Carolyn exclaimed. "She made him sick earlier. She got David, too. Plus, since she's arrived, this house seems even more miserable than ever."
Carolyn recalled the breakfast that took place a couple of days before Cassandra was sent to Windcliff. Uncle Roger mentioned seeing Joe's truck parked outside Collinwood. He asked if Joe was visiting her. He hadn't been. Did Joe come to the house to see Cassandra? If so, did he come to her willingly?
"What did Cassandra do to you?" she gently prodded her boyfriend.
"She made him her slave," Millicent spoke seriously. "I watched it happen."
"Her slave?" Carolyn was shocked by that notion.
"He was under her spell," explained Millicent. "His will was no longer his own."
"What do you mean 'was'?" Carolyn pressed. "Did Cassandra return his will? Is he free from her?"
"Something became of Cassandra," Millicent said mysteriously. "Joe narrowly avoided having his memories extinguished."
"What happened to Cassandra?" Carolyn demanded. "And what do you mean about Joe's memories?"
"Dr. Hoffman tried to erase my memories," Joe chimed in, his blue eyes were now intensely sharp.
"What... how?" Carolyn spluttered. "And why?"
"She tried to use hypnosis." Joe breathed heavily. "She's trying to protect Barnabas Collins from Cassandra."
"What does Cassandra want with Barnabas?" Carolyn was puzzled.
"She loved Barnabas a long time ago," Joe murmured pitifully.
"I didn't think they had anything in common," remarked Carolyn.
"Barnabas hurt her," Joe said heavily. "He also came between me and Maggie. All Barnabas does is hurt people, Carolyn."
"I never thought Barnabas was capable of hurting anyone," Carolyn murmured. "I mean, I know he's eccentric, but he also seems so polite, gallant." She gazed down at Joe's hand clutching her pillow and found his fist swollen. "What happened to your hand?"
"Oh, I punched Willie Loomis today," Joe answered absentmindedly.
"You punched Willie?" Carolyn raised a brow. "Is that why his jaw is busted up?"
"He works for Barnabas," Joe hissed. "He and Maggie. They tried to stop me from protecting Cassandra."
"Wait, Maggie and Willie work for Barnabas?" Carolyn found Joe's claims to be more wild and confusing by the second. "And they were trying to stop you from helping Cassandra?"
"Yes," said Joe.
"And they are working for Barnabas? What does that even mean?"
"They were beholden to Barnabas, just as Joe is beholden to the witch," said Millicent.
"Is Barnabas some evil witch, too?" Carolyn questioned, finding all of this completely insane.
"He is something different," Millicent answered vaguely.
"What is he?" Carolyn asked her.
"I mustn't say!" Millicent shrieked. "I am not allowed!"
Carolyn let out a frustrated sigh. "So, there's some supernatural connection between Barnabas, Maggie and Willie?"
"Yes, that's why Maggie left me for Loomis," Joe croaked brokenly.
"I'm sorry, Joe," Carolyn murmured, but there was a little hurt in her voice. "So you still have feelings for her? I mean, I thought you and I were on the same page. For the first time since forever in fact."
"I only care about Cassandra," Joe told her.
"What?" Carolyn's heart fell.
"Joe, you can't possibly mean that." Millicent gently patted a translucent hand on his shoulder. Predictably, her hand passed right through him, causing him to feel a tingling chill. But Joe was too emotionally drained to recoil from her unnatural, cold touch. "You have no power over your own feelings. You are under her spell."
"Millicent!" An echoing voice attacked the bedroom.
The ghost of Joshua Collins drifted into the room in a swirling, drafty chill. Carolyn's jaw dropped. The latest ghost resembled her beloved uncle.
"What are you doing still haunting this mortal?!" the elder ghost chastised Millicent. "Daniel and I demanded numerous times that you keep away from him. He is the witch's servant!"
"He wants to be released from her wretched bindings!" Millicent argued. "And I can't stay away from him. We have become the dearest of friends. He wants me to save him."
"What the devil are you saying, child!" Joshua spat.
"My connection with him has preserved his memories from being extinguished by Barnabas' dastardly woman doctor!" Millicent proclaimed hysterically. "He refused to forget me. Don't you see, cousin Joshua, he trusts me and he wants me to help him. And I fully intend to!"
Joshua was stunned by this brazen declaration. Carolyn, however, didn't know what to think. Was this flaky ghost really Joe's friend, or ridiculously was she something more? She tried to keep her head from spinning.
Then, a seductive feminine voice slithered inside Joe's mind.
Joe.
The young man jerked wildly, clutching Carolyn's mangled pillow much tighter.
Joe. Come to me. I need you.
Joe yelled in distress.
Carolyn grabbed his hunched shoulders. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Come to me, Joe, the witch beckoned.
"She's calling me!" Joe cried.
"Who, Cassandra?" Carolyn demanded. "I don't hear anything!"
"I can see her by the fire in some lost dark room, talking to a candle flame," Joe whimpered. "Calling me!"
"Don't go to her," Carolyn told him firmly.
Rashly, Joe tossed the pillow aside and flung himself on Millicent. He couldn't get a good hold on her. She was too wispy. But he carefully round his arms around her slender incorporeal waist, hunched on his knees like a supplicant. Millicent stiffened, shocked by the way Joe was touching her. Or almost touching her. Normally, Millicent would view this as vulgarly inappropriate. But she was instead having a rather different feeling.
"Help me, Millicent!" her dearest friend begged shamelessly. "Help me! Don't let me go back to her!"
If Millicent could still blush, her pale face would appear to have a massive sunburn right now.
"Salacious," Joshua growled, enraged by how intimately this mortal man was touching his fragile cousin. "Unhand her!"
Joe, please come to me!
Joe unhanded Millicent and erratically jumped to his feet, bolting toward Carolyn's window.
"Joe, don't!" Carolyn shouted.
But Joe was already crawling out of the window. Carolyn ran to the window and watched him fling himself on a cushy snow bank down below. He took off into the woods like a race car.
"Joe!" Millicent flew right through Carolyn, hastily pursuing him into the wintry night.
"Millicent!" Joshua called out disapprovingly like an irate father, as he chased after her in flight. "Millicent, you come back this instant!"
Carolyn also wanted to race outside to search for Joe. But once she turned away from the window, Joe was standing right there staring back at her. Carolyn gasped, her heart ramming. The man before her wore an old timey naval uniform and sported long pointed sideburns. Wait, this couldn't possibly be Joe!
"You can't help him, child," he said belittling. "And neither can that blundering Millicent. No woman could possibly help him. Only one man."
"And who is that?" Carolyn demanded through gritted teeth. She instantly disliked this phantom.
"The Reverend Trask," he retorted.
In a blinking instant the sailor was gone, like he was never there. Carolyn didn't have time to process the ghost she'd just seen. Or the other two for that matter. She needed to find Joe.
Millicent soared through the snowy, rustling evergreens in the wintry woods of the Collins grounds, frantically searching for Joe. She knew if she could just reach inside his troubled mind, to cast away the witch's poisonous summons, and remind him that she would protect him just as she had at Windcliff, he would break free from the spell.
In midair, someone firmly grabbed hold of her shoulder from behind, forcing her to halt her aimless pursuit.
"Don't touch me!" Millicent screeched angrily. With an intense, sharp glare, she hotly sprung around and faced her pushy cousin. "Oh, why are you and Daniel always trying to prevent me from helping my dear friend!" she snapped furiously.
"Please, Millicent, can't you see that your infatuation with that mortal man is dangerously unorthodox," Joshua argued calmly. "You only fancy him because of his resemblance to Nathan Forbes."
"Joe Haskall is not Nathan Forbes, cousin Joshua!" Millicent cried, highly distraught. "He is a kind gentleman. He is nothing like that charlatan."
"Maybe so, but darling, you are far too fragile to protect a mortal from a hateful witch." Joshua softened his stance. "You cannot will yourself into a corporeal form. You can't even pick up corporeal objects. Oh..." He temporarily trailed off before continuing. "Darling, you lived a horribly wretched and unhappy life. A life that weakened your poor, innocent soul. Please, I beseech you, stop inserting yourself into that hapless man's troubles. You are not responsible for him. I promise you he will revert back to his natural self once the witch is destroyed."
Millicent glared at him coldly, balling her fist at her sides. "You're telling me that I am weak!"
"You were always weak, Millicent," Joshua explained in a patient, paternal tone. "Your health was always frail. Death may have blessedly whisked you away from mortal illness, but even in death, you are still frail."
"I am not weak!" Millicent growled. "I may not harbor the ability to make my body solid, or move objects like everyone else, but I can possess the living and enter Joe's mind! I spoke to him inside his head. I prevented his memories from being tampered with. I do not see Josette wielding such power!"
"He will have reached the witch by now," Joshua commented. "Even if you were a more powerful soul than Josette, I don't want you near that witch. This very evening, she threatened to vanquish us all. We all love you, Millicent. If the witch did something to harm you, the pain we would all suffer would be woefully agonizing. Come, let us return to the Old House."
Millicent lifted a snooty nose at him, then hotly turned her back on him. "You return to the Old House. I wish to be alone." She drifted off in the icy chill flowing with the crisp night air.
"Millicent, please don't do anything that could see you vanquished!"
The wispy ghost ignored her cousin. His words branding her as weak greatly stung her. Since her death, Millicent had never thought of herself as weak. She acknowledged that she was psychically frail in life, but she'd never heard of a weak ghost.
The drafty chill carried her to one of the abandoned houses on the Collins grounds. It ominously silhouetted under the night sky. It was the house by the sea.
Millicent spotted flickering lights through the bottom story windows. She cautiously floated up to the shabby, forgotten house and peered through the parlor window. Inside, she found Joe with the witch, lounging by the fire. She was seductively stroking his dark hair, purring all over him. This sight disgusted the sheltered ghost. Another dark-haired man was with them, standing off to the side. Someone Millicent didn't know. He shot the witch skeptical looks.
Millicent picked up a little of what the witch was saying to Joe. She needed his help to get back in Roger Collins' good graces. And to get back her portrait.
The wispy ghost floated away from the house, fuming. She discovered a rickety shed nearby and hid inside. Her ghostly glow illuminated the shed. It was a singularly dark space filled with rusted, forgotten tools. Millicent found a wooden hammer lying abandoned on a table in the center of the shed.
"My family view me as weak!" she hissed. "I will make them realize their errors!"
Barnabas lounged on his armchair in the parlor of the Old House. A warm fire burned in the hearth, the only source of heat in the room. The fire, along with copious amounts of lit candles provided all the eerie, flickering light that Barnabas' human eyes needed.
Despite being the only one in the room, Barnabas was far from alone.
The ghosts of his departed family loomed around him, shrouded in a glowing white fog so thick and vague, they were formless. But the ancient man sensed the presences of his mother, little Sarah, cousin Daniel and he thought Natalie du Pres. He now sensed his father joining the foray. He even sensed Collinses through the generations present for this haunting. Spirits of people he'd never known. They were born after his time. He supposed that these Collinses were morbidly curious and simply wanted to witness the family's most shameful secret.
Barnabas also knew that his dear mother Naomi wished to console him. Despite everything, she still wanted to be his mother. He suspected that was why Sarah was present. And his father. They wanted to rebuild a family unit.
Jeremiah was obviously absent, but that came as no shock. Barnabas cast him out himself. Also absent was cousin Millicent. Through the mingling voices parading in the fog, Barnabas picked up his father's aggravated voice. He was griping about Millicent's affairs. This was no concern to Barnabas.
In actuality, Barnabas was touched by Naomi's devotion to him and yearned to be her son again. Even when she'd died in his arms back in December of 1795. When she poisoned herself in despair, after she'd learned of the monster he became.
But he just couldn't face her. He couldn't face Sarah.
He felt like a gullible, sentimental feeb. Why was he so vulnerable when it came to his sister? Then he realized the answer. She'd died helplessly in his arms, broken and lost, searching for him. His morality was starting to creep up on him. He was ashamed that the spirits of his loved ones witnessed his resurrection as a soul-crushing monster.
Julia creaked inside the parlor, donning a gray house robe. She'd clearly just crawled out of bed. Her short red hair was tousled. "Even as a mere mortal, you adapt naturally to nocturnal hours," the doctor wryly observed.
He gazed up at her. "For so long, the natural stillness of the night was all that I knew. Funny, ever since you cured me of my curse, my mortal life has been just as dark. I am not allowed to indulged in being a flesh and blood man. She won't permit it."
"Don't pity yourself, Barnabas," Julia told him. "The witch hasn't re-instituted your curse yet."
"It is only a matter of time," brooded the former vampire.
"We won't let it," Julia said fiercely. "Not so long as you are flesh and blood."
Barnabas stared at her with a curious frown.
"You have Josette, your deceased family, Willie, Maggie and myself rallying in your corner."
"Were you always this tenacious, Julia?" he asked her.
The doctor's thin lips curled into an amazed smile.
"Why are you smiling?" Barnabas queried her.
"I don't think you've ever called me Julia before," she said in wonder. "You usually just call me 'doctor'."
"Oh," Barnabas softly responded, sliding his haunted dark gaze to his occupied lap.
"To answer your question, I needed to be tenacious, Barnabas," explained Julia. "It got me through challenging times. It was not easy being the only woman in medical school, not hoping to be a nurse."
"I see," said Barnabas. "I gather you don't often make yourself the adversary of vengeful witches."
"I'm always up for new challenges." Julia shrugged. "Which is why I began studying the occult and searching for you."
"I see." Barnabas' eyes were still drawn to his lap.
"I advise you to start enjoying being a mortal, Barnabas," said Julia. "Don't allow fear to dominate you. Enjoy the simple luxuries the rest of us take for granted."
"Like morning strolls with Vicki?" Barnabas suggested.
Julia huffed out a sigh. "Yeah, something like that."
"Julia," murmured Barnabas. "Thank you."
Julia's gaze softened. "You're welcome, Barnabas. You'd better get some rest. You need to learn to sleep like the rest of us."
"All right."
"And one more thing, Barnabas," stressed the lady doctor. "Stop staring at that dirty picture."
Barnabas gazed down at his lap, where the portrait of Angelique rested. The portrait was of course supernaturally restored. Boldly colored, just as striking and vibrant as ever. He and Julia made that happy discovery when they'd returned to the Old House.
The witch's youthful eyes peered sharply through Barnabas' soul.
"Good night, Julia." He sighed.
"Good night, Barnabas."
As she departed from the parlor, the ghosts extinguished the candles with a chilly breeze. They evidently wished for Barnabas to start resting naturally as well.
Snugging comfortably on the cozy couch in Burke's warm suite at The Collinsport Inn, Vicki gazed dreamily through the frosted window at the other end of the room.
She and Burke enjoyed a peaceful dinner of lobster rolls and fine red wine, with romantic candle light providing the desired atmosphere. Burke relished the rare alone time with his fiancee. Away from the ghastly drama surrounding the biggest house in town.
Noticing the way the dark-haired governess was blankly staring at the frosted window, the businessman knew her mind was a million miles away.
"All right, Miss Winters," he said, putting an end to the companionable silence. "Penny."
She shot her gaze over to him, her brow furrowed. "Penny?"
"For your thoughts." He grinned impishly at her.
Vicki smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Burke. I guess I've got a lot on my mind."
"It's okay, Vicki," Burke said reassuringly. "We've been through a lot lately. On the plus side, Davey's all well again."
"I'm so relieved about that," Vicki said gratefully.
"So, what exactly is troubling you?" asked Burke. "The West Wing? Cassandra?"
"I'm just wondering what my parents are doing tonight," Vicki murmured. "Are they thinking about me? My mother left me on the steps of the foundling home in the dead of winter. That's how I earned my last name. But it's not really mine."
"I know," Burke said gently.
"I can't help but wonder if my mother ever thinks of me on winter nights. Considering I've been stuck with that name my whole life." She paused. "You must think I'm selfish," she said to him. "Clinging to my forgotten past when I should be concentrating on our future. Also, maybe trying to figure out what we're going to do about the ghosts haunting the West Wing. And with what the Collinses are suffering through..."
"You're not selfish, Vicki," Burke interrupted. "You're very human. You've been carrying this burden your whole life and you deserve to know where you come from. After all, we've all given our blessings. Even Josette and Sarah. And between you and me, I'd better meet those sterling ghost ladies soon. I'm feeling left out."
Vicki smiled brightly, feeling much more cheered up. "Hopefully you will. I'd like for you to see them, too."
"I sure hope I don't meet Quentin," said Burke. "I want him taken care of soon."
"I hope Prof. Stokes will help us," said Vicki.
"No matter what's going on in the West Wing, we'll begin the search for your parents after Christmas just as planned."
"Thank you." She reached over and affectionately squeezed his hand on his lap. "I know I'm getting closer to finding them. I can feel it."
"You will," Burke encouraged.
"Once I find out who my parents are and where I come from, I'd like to do research on my family's history," Vicki said enthusiastically. "Learn about my ancestors."
"Learn about dead people who aren't the Collinses for a change," exclaimed Burke.
"I don't know if my ancestors will be half as fascinating as the Collinses," Vicki said sheepishly. "But I'd love to learn about them anyway."
"I'm sure we'll learn great things together." Burke warmly wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"You're interested in learning about my family's history?" Vicki asked surprised.
"Of course," Burke answered earnestly. "We're going to be married. Maybe we could even dig up my family's lineage. Maybe there's more to them than just boozy sailors."
"I'd love to do some research on your ancestors, Burke," Vicki said happily. She then smiled warmly. "Thank you for tolerating my morbid fascination with the past."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with learning about where you came from." Burke shrugged. "As long as our future is bright and wonderful. So, how about some dessert? I think I'll order us some apple pie."
"I'll run down to the diner and get it," Vicki perked up eagerly. "I haven't seen Suzy in a while. I'd like to see how she's doing."
"Sneaking off for some girl talk," Burke accused lightly.
"I promise it won't take long," said Vicki.
"All right." Burke chuckled.
Downstairs in the lobby, Willie and Maggie took in the inviting scent of coffee, hamburgers, donuts and pie lingering fragrantly in the heated air. They stepped inside the Inn, gladly turning away from the icy winter night.
Even though this was only a brief visit, Maggie was happy to be back in this joint. She'd missed it here. She hadn't stopped by in days. It sort of felt like coming home.
They found the lobby and the front desk deserted. Mr. Wells was likely fidgeting at some benign inconvenience elsewhere in the Inn.
But this was perfect for Maggie's plan. She was free to snoop through the Inn's registry, to see if a Mr. Nicholas Blair was among the guests.
Willie kept a lookout as Maggie skimmed through the many loopy cursive signatures in the tattered, leather bound book behind the desk. Clearly, Willie's con artist influence was rubbing off on his girl. Unfortunately, Maggie didn't find Nicholas' name. She shut the book and teared herself away from the desk.
"I guess he's not here," Maggie reported to Willie. "I knew it was a long shot. I just hate that you have to search the Collins grounds on a freezing night like this."
"I know the grounds by heart," Willie muttered. "I'll find 'em."
"I want to help you," said Maggie.
"Nah, ya Pop would worry," said Willie. "Besides, ya need to tell him 'bout Quentin."
"Yeah, I do," Maggie agreed softly. "But I did find one name in that book that caught my eye. A Mr. Seamus O' Shaushnessy. You know Jason McGuire pretty well. Is it possible that could be an alias of his, or is that too blatantly Irish for a skilled conman like him?"
"Ya think Jason's still here?" Willie asked, impressed by her deducing.
"I think it's strange that he showed up now, considering he got himself thrown out of town by the Collinses," said Maggie.
"Jason is too down in the gutter to pull any cons," said Willie. "I've seen him in bad shape before, but not like that."
"He might've left town," Maggie said a little hopefully.
"Ya worried Jason might try some scam on us?" queried Willie.
"Hardly." Maggie snorted. "After Barnabas 'The Bat' Collins, Jason doesn't stand a chance against you and me. No, it's just that Mrs. Stoddard is clearly on edge about Cassandra, and if Jason popped up in her life again..."
"Yeah, badness," Willie agreed.
A shapely blonde waitress strolled out of the diner and into the lobby. "Maggie!" she said delightedly. "Nice to see you."
"It's nice to see you, too, Suzy," Maggie returned just as cheerily.
"I heard more weird stuff's going down at Spooks Central," gossiped Suzy.
"You're not wrong about that," groaned Maggie.
"Are you going to give up that place and come back?" asked Suzy. "We all miss you."
"I miss you all, too," Maggie said, touched. "But I'm sticking with Spooks Central for the time being."
Suzy trailed her gaze over to Willie and gasped. "Wow, Willie, how did you get that shiner?"
"Joe Haskell," Willie muttered, consciously rubbing his jaw.
"Oh, you two finally had it out," concluded Suzy. "I always knew that would happen."
The couple stood staring at her awkwardly.
"So, how about some free coffee?" Suzy offered.
"We need to get back to Pop," Maggie politely declined. "But we'll gladly take a rain check."
"Absolutely." Suzy nodded. "Hope to see you both back soon."
"Yeah, I need to give you some pointers on your coffee pouring technique," Maggie piped up. "Your pour is a little stiff, girl."
"Not all of us can be as skilled as the Pouring Queen, Maggie," Suzy quipped.
"Har, har," Maggie responded sardonically.
"Anyway, you two have a good night," said Suzy.
"You too," replied Maggie.
Suzy waved them out as they walked through the door. The waitress then noticed a figure creaking down the staircase.
The figure revealed herself to be Victoria Winters.
"Hey, Vicki," Suzy greeted conversationally. "You and Burke enjoyed digging into the lobster rolls?"
"Yes, they were delicious." Vicki smiled pleasantly. "We'd also like two slices of apple pie."
"Coming right up!" Suzy headed for the diner.
Vicki followed her.
Up the lonely staircase, the looming shadow of a man crawled down the wall, as the man himself shakily descended down the steps.
In the diner, Vicki giddily leaned over the counter as Suzy sliced two pieces of apple pie.
"So, has Gary popped the question yet?" Vicki pressed the waitress, yearning for some light, normal gossip.
"Not yet," Suzy muttered. "I know he wants to, he's just too finicky. I honestly don't know why I ever fell for a guy like that."
A haggard man miserably sloughed onto the stool next to Vicki.
"Coffee," he grumbled in a gravelly, yet richly accented voice.
"Coming right up, sir." As Suzy poured the coffee, Vicki shifted her gaze over to the hobo sitting next to her. He wore a long black coat, had bloodshot eyes, and graying facial stubble. His dark hair was uncombed.
Despite looking like he'd dragged himself out of a dumpster, Vicki could never forget this face, no matter how unkempt and neglected it became.
"Jason!"
At the sound of his name, the Irish con flashed his bloodshot eyes at Victoria Winters.
Next Chapter: The Phantom's Declaration