Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine
CHAPTER 21: A NEW ALLY
Standing mortified in the parlor, Maggie gawked at Barnabas and Julia. An equally stunned Willie stood beside her, stiff as a statue.
"You - you want to summon a dead warlock?!" Maggie stammered.
"Yes, from the netherworld." Julia nodded.
"T-The netherworld?" Willie stuttered.
"Is that hell?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, to my understanding," Barnabas replied.
"W-Why are we doin' this?" Willie demanded, growing just as perturbed as Maggie.
"To acquire a much needed ally," Barnabas said importantly. "To finally be rid of Angelique."
"But Julia, I thought you said you wanted to use science to fight Angelique," Maggie argued.
"That is the general plan, Maggie," Julia said rationally. "But all sound science is based upon studious observation."
"You're gonna use this warlock like a guinea pig," Willie commented knowingly.
"I need a better understanding of how the supernatural powers of the netherworld function," Julia explained. "As it turns out, witches and warlocks are much different from vampires. They're powers work differently. Barnabas' curse centered on his blood. I suspect Angelique's powers are centered in fire. This summoning is an opportunity for a voluntary test subject."
"This is messed up, doctor." Willie rubbed the back of his head. "This is gonna go wrong."
"Willie, we both know your expertise do not lie in mysticism," Barnabas chided.
"Then why are you two dragging us into this!" Maggie huffed.
"Because you two are my assistance," Barnabas said in a even tone. "Julia and I cannot do this alone."
"We may be helping you protect the Collinses, Barnabas," Maggie responded shortly. "But that does not make us lemmings happy to jump into the pits of hell!"
"How about I make some tea?" Julia offered civilly. "It will help calm our nerves."
"By all means, Julia," Barnabas approved.
The lady doctor breezed pass Willie and Maggie as she left the parlor.
Maggie repressed boiling aggravation. Julia seemed to be the type to spike the tea with something.
"We are all giving our best efforts to be rid of Angelique, Maggie," Barnabas said levelly. "You and Willie have both bravely agreed to assist in this endeavor. Considering our numerous setbacks, I think it's time to resort to more unorthodox methods."
Maggie had no retort.
"When all is said and done, Angelique will be gone forever," Barnabas continued. "You and Willie can return to your peaceful lives."
Maggie and Willie shared a look. They did yearn to get their lives back to normal. Away from monsters. They wanted that more than anything. But were they willing to dabble in black magic to make that a reality?
Joe and Carolyn trailed through the thick snow blanketing the Collins grounds. The thin, icy sky had darkened. Some stars sparkled their existence in the bleak void. The luminous outline of the moon was visible through the roving clouds.
A chilling mist billowed through the frosted trees.
Carolyn feebly warmed herself by wrapping her arms inside her coat. She found herself wary by the darkening woods. A witch was out there. Like in a fairy tale. It occurred to her how much more twisted fairy tales seemed when they were real.
Luckily for her, the Main House was up ahead. Grimly, she acknowledged that didn't mean anything to Joe.
He trudged along beside her, his face gaunt, his eyes ever hollowed.
"How are you feeling?" Carolyn asked gently. They were drawing closer to the mansion. "Do you feel any different?"
"I don't know, Carolyn," Joe murmured hopelessly.
His mind wandered back to Prof. Stokes' classroom. The supposed educator was performing his spell. Or "enchantment" as he preferred to call it. He had placed Joe on a chair and dangled some gaudy over-sized medallion in front of Joe's face. The professor succeed in putting Joe in a trance. He intoned words in some strange language – and that was all Joe could recall.
Still, he felt this "enchantment" was amateurish.
But then, Joe remembered feeling something airy fluttering through his insides once the professor snapped him awake. He had admitted this to the professor and Carolyn. But it was not a guarantee that the enchantment would work. It didn't have the allure of a candle flame and a seductive voice.
"Can you come inside for some dinner?" Carolyn asked cautiously. Her voice brought him back to the present. "Or is she calling you?"
"She is expecting me," Joe affirmed.
Carolyn's face fell, her eyes concerned. "Should I follow you?"
"No, Carolyn, it's dangerous," Joe said seriously. "We don't know if this spell of that professor's will work."
Carolyn only grew more worried.
"There's one way to find out if it works," said Joe. "I go to her and see if I betray you or not."
"That's a hell of a test," Carolyn bit off.
Joe shrugged sadly. What choice did they have?
Carolyn had no response. Her eyes were getting cloudy.
"I'll see you, Carolyn."
Joe turned away, heading for the misty woods.
"Joe."
He tuned her out. He was swallowed by the dense swirling fog, and the jagged shadows of a bare winter forest.
He was gone.
Carolyn stood in the snow with a devastated look frozen on her face. She didn't know how long she stood there helpless.
Eventually, she found it in herself to finish the troop over to Collinwood. She wiped her eyes before she made her way through the heavy front doors. She found the foyer mercifully empty. Shutting the doors, she hung up her coat.
Creaking footsteps rushed from the drawing room. She looked over her shoulder, finding her Uncle Roger looming behind her.
"Good, you're home, kitten," he said by way of greeting. "I was afraid that your mother was going to call in the Marines to search for you."
"Why?"
"She's having Mrs. Johnson prepare a banquet," Roger replied bitingly. "It's all rather sudden. Your mother apparently has a special announcement for the family."
Carolyn heaved out a stressful sigh. These were never good.
Journeying through the snow and trees, Joe got an eye-shot of the eerie silhouette of the house by the sea. Its decaying structures sat in stillness in the frigid, December night. Fog parted around it like swayed curtains.
Candle light shimmered through some of the bottom story windows.
His mistress waited.
As Joe trailed through the thick snow, marching to the house, his eyes searched the night sky.
He thought of Millicent.
Maybe she could high-jack his body and whisk him off to New York. She'd mentioned taking him there. Joe felt this would be the time to do it. Perfect even.
But Millicent was not with him.
Joe was alone.
Nathan Forbes also seemed absent. Joe thought that the opinionated Navy man was more likely to whisk him off Widows Hill than anything pleasant. After thinking that, Joe wondered if maybe he was regenerating some of his free will after all.
He surely didn't want to be inside that house.
But he obediently swung the front door wide open, and even kicked the snow off his boots, before stepping inside.
He found his dark-haired mistress standing by a blazing fire in the parlor, draped with a thin blood-red silk robe. She was staring into the flames. But as Joe breathed to announce himself, those mesmerizing blue eyes locked to his.
"Hello, darling. How was your day?"
"Spent with Carolyn," Joe reported, unaware that he was drawing closer to her.
"Things are developing between the two of you, I trust?" Cassandra purred.
"Yes, my love," Joe replied, though those words sounded strange coming out of him. Something like hearing your own voice on a answering machine.
"Listen to you." Cassandra herself was surprised by his words. "Someone has become a romantic."
"Wouldn't it be kinder to merely kill him?" Nicholas Blair, sporting his gray smoking jacket, sauntered into the parlor, leering at Cassandra. "All this little girl slop will be the death of you. You or your slave."
"Nicholas, I'm just as incapable of love as you are!" Cassandra glared evilly.
Nicholas' eyes sparkled, but for once he remained silent.
"Joe was just telling me how the infiltration is going." Cassandra laid her blue eyes back on her slave.
"I spent the day at the local collage with Carolyn," Joe spoke up loyally. "She has a friend there."
"Does she trust you?" Cassandra pressed sharply.
"She cares for me, but it's nothing compared to how I desire you." Inwardly, Joe was frankly shocked. He hadn't intended for his answer to come out like that. He couldn't recall ever wanting to say anything like that in his life.
Leaning against the fireplace mantle, arms firmly folded, Nicholas rolled his eyes with a childishly disgusted look on his face. "Oh, vomit."
Cassandra, however, was visibly flattered. "I'm pleased to hear that." She flashed a smirk at Nicholas before blithely asking, "Have you and Carolyn become intimate?"
Joe was lost for a moment. But Nicholas clarified by snidely asking, "Have you slept with the girl!?"
"We're just friends," Joe answered honestly. "You are my one and only lover." Again, more unintended words uncontrollably slipped off his tongue. Why was he saying these things?
His thoughts shifted to Prof. Stokes. Was his enchantment having an effect?
"Yes, that has been established, darling." Cassandra grew a little impatient. "Have you made any headway with Roger?"
"Yeah, it's getting closer to that big holiday gala of theirs." Nicholas jeered.
"I haven't gotten the chance yet," Joe answered monotonously. "I'm just concentrating on Carolyn right now. She's the best chance I have."
Cassandra nodded, but given the stingy look in her eyes, she was plainly disappointed. "That's all well and good, but we need to make serious progress. I need a foot hold in that house."
"You will," Joe said loyally.
"Well I'm decidedly less convinced," Nicholas remarked, his arms still folded. "You are becoming increasingly more irrelevant with each passing day, my dear."
"I can still turn this around!" Cassandra shot at him.
"I figured out a way to get your portrait back," Joe interrupted their bickering.
"You did?" Cassandra gaped at him.
"How could you possibly?" Nicholas was dubious.
"I thought I'd find some wand – or whatever – and use it to pass through the ghost's invisible wall at the Old House. The portrait's in there, right?"
"Joe," Cassandra whispered surprised.
"You may actually be on the crux of a good idea." Nicholas narrowed his black eyes. "Your crippling mundanity could prove to be an asset."
"Where will you get your wand?" Cassandra inquired.
"I looked at occult stuff today," Joe explained.
"You can't imagine how impressed I am to hear that." Nicholas was skeptical.
"Carolyn dragged me to some crackpot professor's class," Joe monotonously intoned. "He teaches out of some back storeroom."
"This matters why?" Nicholas snipped.
"It's a storeroom for occult artifacts that he has gathered from all over the world," Joe continued.
Cassandra smiled triumphantly at Nicholas, who himself was looking rather impressed with Joe now.
"Well," he said, jovially patting the slave on the shoulder. "You are on to something."
"What are you thinking, Nicholas?" Cassandra sounded excited.
"Nothing as moronic as a wand, I assure you." Nicholas was smug.
"I will do anything for her." Joe locked his feverishly devoted eyes on his mistress. "I don't care. Whatever it takes, I will succeed."
"Yes, you will." Cassandra softly stroked Joe's cheeks with cold fingers. "You just gave me a reason to keep you, Joe Haskell."
She leaned in and pulled Joe into a deep, passionate kiss.
Nicholas was prompted to quickly retreat from the parlor in disgust. He had plans to formulate anyway. He wasn't certain of all the details yet. But he knew that Cassandra's slave was about to be promoted from worthless spy to part-time thief and maybe even – exorcist.
Outside in the black winter night, the ghost of Nathan Forbes watched the torrid lovers through the icy windows. He smirked proudly. He'd liked to think it was his influence that spurred Joe to get this lucky with the witch.
But it appeared that the plumb scholar was a bit of a genius with the supernatural arts. Not bad for his first "enchantment." Not bad at all.
Outside the forbidden corridor in the West Wing of Collinwood, Quentin's haunting music still pervaded the shadows.
By an icy stained-glass window away from his cell, the ghosts of Tim Shaw and Rachel Drummond conferred with Beth Chavez about their encounter with Count Petofi. Magda and Sandor Rokosi were also present, listening along with Beth.
The Count's successful intrusion of the Great House was very disheartening. But what triggered this impromptu war council was the Count's cryptic attitude. He openly seeks to reunite with Quentin. Worse, he was so confident of victory he hadn't even bother to threaten them.
"He can be very subtle" Beth told Tim. "Perhaps you missed an implied threat?"
"No." Tim shook his head.
"We are as confused as you," Rachel murmured.
"What he iz doin' iz worse zan we imagine," Magda stressed.
Sandor soothingly rubbed his wife's shoulders.
"Of course," Beth lamented. "Petofi was always such a terribly fixated man. But I can't understand why he cares so much about Quentin."
"We never really understood what happened between 'em," Sandor recalled.
"I wish we could just ask Quentin," said Beth. "After all this time, we are still lost in that horrible old man's web."
"Do you want me to try and spy on Petofi?" Tim offered.
"We both tried to spy on him," Beth bleakly reminded. "Neither of us can get anywhere near him without him noticing. I don't want to risk any of you."
"We gypsies are not afraid of that fat bushy tramp!" Magda said brassily. "Me and Sandor go talk to some of the clans. Zee what we can figure he'z been up to."
"Yes, but we have to be careful," Beth countered. "Tim, Rachel, thank you."
"We are all in this together, Beth," Rachel said sweetly.
Beth nodded to her and flowed away to relieve Carl and Pansy from their guarding duties outside the hidden cell.
Beth was heartbroken that Petofi – even after all this time – still wanted to take more from Quentin.
Even though he had put her through hell, Beth didn't want Quentin to lose any more of himself. After all, they'd suffered through this hell together. Petofi had no place between them.
Down in the warm kitchen, Josette streamed in through the walls. She found Bill Malloy's ghost watching Mrs. Johnson stirring gravy, as well as tending to the peas and cream corn on the stove. A juicy duck was cooking in the oven.
"Hello, Bill," Josette spoke up politely. "It seems there is quite a bundle of energy in Collinwood this evening."
"Ay-yup." Bill nodded. "Liz is throwing a big dinner to drop her bombshell about Vicki."
"I don't quite understand those words," Josette confessed. "But I assume Elizabeth intends to reveal to the family that Victoria is her daughter."
"Yes."
Silence stretched on as the French aristocrat searched for something else to talk about. Reading Bill's bushy facial expressions, Josette wondered if he was familiar with the cook at the stove.
"You know this servant?"
"She was my maid before I was killed." Bill watched the oblivious Mrs. Johnson fondly. "She truly cared for me – mourned for me. Her feelings were much deeper. But my heart belonged to Liz."
"It still does," Josette noted.
"It still does," Bill concurred. "But Mrs. Sarah Johnson was like family to me. I'll gladly protect her from this cursed house along with Liz and the rest of this blighted family."
"Our manservant Ben Stokes has been like family to Barnabas," Josette confided. "And to me. After death."
She heard Elizabeth and Victoria's voices outside the kitchen. "Pardon me, Bill."
"Ay-yup."
Josette streamed through the wall and was out in the corridor.
As Mrs. Johnson went on stirring the gravy, she remain oblivious of the ghostly presence sharing the kitchen with her.
The ghost of a man she once had strong feelings for.
The warm aroma of the cooking distracted from the briny scent of the sea.
Streaming through the paneled corridors with her white gown and veil flowing behind her, Josette followed Elizabeth and Vicki, who strolled together side-by-side.
"Are you nervous about dinner, Mrs. Stoddard?" Vicki asked.
"No Vicki." Elizabeth had no hesitation. "I want to welcome you into the family properly."
"What if they ask about – you know." Vicki dropped her eyes to the floor as they walked down the corridor.
"Just leave it to me," Elizabeth told her.
"Yes, of course." Vicki took her eyes off the floor.
"How about you, Vicki?" Elizabeth asked interested. "What are your feelings about dinner?"
"Oh – I'm looking forward to it," Vicki insisted. "It'll be our first official dinner as a family."
"I see it that way as well," Elizabeth said, feeling reassured.
Vicki suddenly stopped and halted her mother. "Oh – is it all right if I invite Barnabas? He has become such a dear friend to me. I always felt a close connection with him. I finally understand why. I just know he'll be so happy that I am a Collins."
Elizabeth was weary of the idea. Nevertheless, she nodded her consent. "I suppose it is all right. He is family."
"Thank you, Mrs. Stoddard." Vicki paused, thoughtful for a moment. "After tonight, I'm going to stop calling you Mrs. Stoddard."
"Vicki, I understand if you need to take your time."
"I appreciate that," Vicki said graciously. "But I've wanted a family all my life. I finally found them. I'd like to embrace it."
Elizabeth looked at her warmly.
"I'm going to visit Barnabas," Vicki told her.
Josette listened to them with a waning look on her translucent face. She knew how Barnabas felt about Victoria. She was apprehensive about how he would respond to this latest family revelation.
At the Old House, Maggie slumped down on one of the armchairs in the parlor, glancing at the flickering fire in the hearth. Her warm tea was cupped in her hands. She hadn't took a sip.
Willie hadn't tasted his tea, either. It sat forgotten on the folded desk. He stood by the window, peering through the glass.
Barnabas and Julia stared at the couple impatiently.
"Well, are we going to perform the summoning?" Julia demanded.
"This – this is just really bizarre and dangerous," Maggie expressed. "Even for us."
"It is necessary to be rid of Angelique, Maggie," Barnabas reiterated.
"This could go terribly wrong," Maggie argued.
"Hey, Barnabas." Willie spotted something through the window. "Someone is headin' our way."
"Someone is coming here?!" Julia was terribly displeased.
"Yeah, a woman." Willie kept his eyes on the approaching figure.
"It can't be Angelique!" Despite his words, Barnabas' tone wavered.
"I can't tell." Willie watched the woman trudging closer. He caught a better glimpse of her face. "It's Vicki."
"Vicki." Barnabas exhaled.
"Yeah," said Willie.
"What is she doing here?" Julia sounded irritable.
"She wishes to see me, obviously," said Barnabas.
Julia noted the gloating hint in his voice.
"She's comin'." Willie moved away from the window.
A knock sounded off at the front doors.
"Barnabas, I won't let you use Vicki as some ritual sacrifice for this warlock!" Maggie warned.
"Don't be absurd, Maggie."
Barnabas strode into the foyer and answered his front doors. Victoria Winters' beautiful face beamed divinely at him. She was wrapped in her winter coat, but she was obviously cold. She was shivering a little.
"Hello, Barnabas." Her breath steamed the thin, icy air.
"Vicki, please come in," Barnabas invited. "You must be cold."
"Thank you, Barnabas," Vicki replied sweetly.
She crossed the threshold. Barnabas closed out the winter night.
"I won't be staying long." Vicki looked into the parlor passed its pillar entrance, seeing that Willie, Maggie and Dr. Julia Hoffman were present.
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's so dark, I must've missed Willie's truck outside," she apologized guiltily. "I didn't know you had guests. I didn't mean to intrude."
"You're not intruding in the slightest," Barnabas charmed. "What brings you here?"
"I'd like to invite you up to Collinwood for a family dinner," Vicki explained. She shot a look at the trio in the parlor. "But you obviously have plans for this evening."
"I'm afraid so." Barnabas sounded disappointed. "But I plan to attend the Christmas party."
"I'm glad to hear that." Vicki smiled. "If it's not too much trouble, can we talk tomorrow? I have something important to tell you. It's about the Collins family."
"I'd be delighted." Barnabas grinned.
"Wonderful." Vicki was pleased. "I better get back."
"I'll have Willie escort you back to Collinwood," Barnabas gallantly offered.
"That won't be necessary," Vicki declined. She looked into the parlor. "Good night Maggie, Willie. See you both tomorrow."
"Have a nice night, Vicki," Maggie said from the armchair by the fireplace.
Willie simply nodded.
"I hope I will," Vicki said vaguely. "You and Willie drive safe." She shifted her attention to Julia. "Have a nice night, Dr. Hoffman."
"You too, Vicki," Julia replied.
"Take care on the path to the Main House," Barnabas said affectionately.
"I will," said Vicki. "Good night, Barnabas."
"Good night, Vicki." Barnabas opened the front doors for her.
She passed the threshold and was back out in the dark, wintry woods. Once she disappeared through the shadowy, snow-capped trees, Barnabas shut the doors.
"Are we ready to perform the summoning?" Julia asked firmly from the parlor's entrance.
Barnabas teared himself away from the front doors and strode back into the parlor.
"I am. Willie? Maggie?"
The couple shared a look. A hesitant, but relenting one.
Barnabas read their faces, satisfied. "Excellent. Let us gather."
Maggie puffed out a defeated breath. Willie just looked glum.
"Come, to the table," Julia instructed readily, stepping up to the little round table that she and Barnabas had set up.
She lit a long black candlestick and placed it in the center. The flame was smaller and dimmer than the candlesticks lighting the foyer. But the black witches' candle streamed fragrant white smoke with a variety of smells that Maggie couldn't identified.
The four took their seats.
"Now," Julia said as she sat down. "Lay your palms on the table. Spread out your fingers. Your fingers must make contact with whoever is sitting next to you."
Willie and Maggie followed the instructions. When their fingers touched, Maggie whispered into his ear, "Reminds me of some slumber parties I've been to. Except we weren't reaching out to a warlock from hell."
"Are you ready, Barnabas?" Julia asked.
Their fingers made contact. Barnabas' fingers brush against Willie's from his left side.
"I am, Julia."
A petrified Willie and Maggie held their breaths, their hearts pounding thunderously.
Barnabas began his incantation. "I call now to the blackest void of the netherworld. Heed me when I call. I call for the soul of a wretched warlock. Foul and defiled. Release him from his rightful bindings and send him to me. Send me Judah Zachery!"
Instantaneously the fire in the fireplace flared violently. But the air in the parlor cooled rapidly. An icy wind stirred, rustling everyone's hair.
Willie and Maggie were startled. Something was wrong with the fire. It was still safely contained inside the hearth. But it was glowing an unnatural green.
A shape slowly materialized out of the dancing green flames. The ghastly image of a skull, clean and fleshless, with glowing embers inside its sockets, stared at its summoners wildly.
Willie and Maggie gasped in horror.
"Quiet!" Barnabas snapped. He fixed his attention back on the visage of evil in his fireplace. Steeling his resolve, he willed every ounce of command into his voice. "Send me Judah Zachery!"
Green smoke billowed out of the fireplace. Almost dance like, the smoke coalesced into the figure of a man. A dark-haired handsome man with dark blue eyes. He was garbed in a blue nineteenth-century suit, complete with ruffles.
The four summoners at the table gaped at the odd stranger. The man they'd summon from the netherworld. He smiled at them gratefully.
"Hello, my name is Gerard Stiles. I've come to assist you."
In the foyer at Collinwood, Elizabeth was relieved to see Vicki coming through the front doors, safe and sound. She returned alone.
"Vicki," Elizabeth greeted. "I take it Barnabas couldn't join us?"
"He already has plans," Vicki replied.
"I suppose we'll just have to carry on without him," said Elizabeth.
"Carry on with what?" Carolyn stepped through the side door, her arms folded as she came into the foyer. "I know it's the norm in this house, but something secretive is going on."
"You will hear what I have to say during dinner," Elizabeth said strictly.
"I've heard," said Carolyn. "You must be planning something important, Mother."
"As a matter of fact, I am," Elizabeth replied.
Mrs. Johnson stuck her head out of the side door. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Mrs. Stoddard."
"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson."
As the house maid vanished behind the side door, Elizabeth instructed Vicki, "Get David and Burke. I believe they're upstairs. I'll go get Roger."
"All right."
Vicki went up the staircase while Elizabeth headed for the study.
Carolyn was left alone in the foyer. The ancient grandfather's clock loudly struck eight 'o clock.
Carolyn felt chilled. Despite her family's intrigues, her thoughts were on Joe.
Was he with the witch? What was he doing with her? More precisely, what was she doing to him? Did Prof. Stokes' "enchantment" work? Or was Joe lost to Carolyn forever?
As these torturous thoughts hounded, the heiress squeezed shut her eyes.
"Oh, Joe. I wish you're here."
The sound of her uncle's perturbed diatribe shot open her eyes.
"Honestly, Liz, I can make it to the dining room without you escorting me!" Roger and his sister strolled into the foyer. "We all eat dinner together every night at eight. It is practically a ritual!"
"And tonight is a special family occasion," Elizabeth stated. She noticed her blonde daughter. "Come along, Carolyn."
Vicki ushered Burke and David down the staircase.
In no time, the Collinses (plus Burke) gathered in the dining room. At Elizabeth's decree, Mrs. Johnson had set the table with priceless china from the Colonial era. Some of it was as old as the estate and it was considered a family treasure. It was served along with the feast.
Elizabeth was perched at the head of the table, while Roger was stationed on the opposite end. Carolyn and David sat on the left side of the table, while Vicki and Burke claimed the right side. Vicki also sat on Elizabeth's left side, while Carolyn took up the right.
David felt ghostly chills spiking the air. Someone tugged on his pant cuff. He peeked under the table, finding Sarah hiding.
"Oh, you are going to be so surprised!" she whispered.
"So, Liz," Roger said casually, as he helped himself to the duck and gravy. "What's the special occasion?"
Nervous jitters shook the matriarch. Vicki reached out for her hand, giving an encouraging squeeze. Elizabeth looked at Vicki gratefully.
All the while, Carolyn and David were distracted by fixing their plates.
"It started out as a sad story." Elizabeth involuntarily halted. Keeping secrets was second nature to the matriarch. Steeling her resolve, she continued. "When I was young, I got pregnant out of wedlock."
Roger and Carolyn dropped their silverware in a noisy clank.
"I kept my pregnancy a secret," Elizabeth continued undaunted, "and left the baby in a foundling home in New York."
"Is this before you met my father?" Carolyn uttered from her seat.
"It was before Paul and I were married," said Elizabeth.
"But he is the father?" asked Carolyn.
"No."
Roger leveled a searching glance at Vicki.
"Is this child still at the foundling home?" he inquired. "He would have come of age by now. Likely, he's out there not knowing he's a Collins."
"I gave birth to a daughter," Elizabeth informed. "I never lost track of her. Not for a single day. When she came of age, I summoned her back. She's been living with us for quite some time."
Carolyn gasped.
She and David threw their shocked eyes at the governess.
"Honestly, Liz?" Roger was almost at a lost for words. "Vic – Vicki is your daughter?"
"Yes, Roger."
Carolyn gaped at Vicki like she was seeing her for the first time.
"I thought it was unbelievable myself," Vicki told her. "When I found out that you are my sister."
Carolyn was utterly speechless.
"If you're Carolyn's sister, does that mean you're my cousin, too?" David asked.
"Yes, it does, David." Vicki nodded.
"I think that's neat," David said approvingly, taking a small bite of his gravy soaked duck.
"See, I told you!" The ghost of Sarah gloated from under the table.
"But why didn't Aunt Elizabeth bring you home?" David expressed with a puzzled frown.
"It's complicated to explain, Davy," Burke interjected helpfully. "Your Aunt Elizabeth was in an impossible spot. She wanted to keep Vicki more than anything. But she had to let her go."
Elizabeth looked at Burke gratefully.
"Oh, I'm sorry you had to let go of Vicki, Aunt Elizabeth," David said kindly.
"Vicki and I are moving on from the past, David." Elizabeth smiled. "We're going to move forward as a family."
"I think that's the right idea." For the first time since hearing this life changing news, Carolyn spoke. She looked at her friend – her sister – with a powerfully emotional look on her face. "Welcome to the family, Vicki."
"Thank you, Carolyn," Vicki replied, relieved.
"I mean - " Carolyn struggled for words. "Wow – you're my sister! That's so wild!"
"Yes, it is," Vicki concurred.
"From the moment I met you, I felt that you somehow belong here." Carolyn's voice wavered emotionally.
That made Vicki a little worried.
"And I have to say," Carolyn rambled. "You and Mother look so much alike! I don't know why it never hit me!"
Vicki sat on her chair like a stone. She wasn't certain if her capricious sister was handling this well or not.
Perhaps sensing Vicki's discomfort, Carolyn got up from her chair and rounded over to Vicki. She bent down and wrapped her sister in a warm hug.
"I do mean it. Welcome to the family, Vicki."
"Thank you, Carolyn." Vicki accepted the hug.
On his end of the table, Roger remained stationary, with a blank look froze on his face. Abruptly, he stood up and quietly left the dining room.
The rest of the family (and Burke) were taken off guard by his unexcused departure. It was strong, even for Roger Collins. He hadn't even said a word, which was so unlike him.
Elizabeth excused herself from the table and charged after her brother.
She didn't have to go too far to catch him. He stood in the shadows of the corridor, peering through an icy window, overlooking the grounds.
"Roger," Elizabeth said harshly over his shoulder. "Why did you leave like that?!"
"I'm just – a little thrown – Liz," Roger said delicately, keeping his eyes on the grounds.
"I know it's quite the bombshell," Elizabeth conceded.
"I stayed up all night when Carolyn was born," Roger commented out of the blue. "And when the nurse told me you were both safe and well, it was I that proudly passed out the cigars. While Paul dozed in the waiting room." Roger kept his eyes on the window.
"I was so glad to have you with me then," Elizabeth said softly.
Roger turned to face her, showing a sad, empty little grin. "For your second born, you mean."
Elizabeth's eyes fell downcast. "Yes, for Carolyn."
"Will you go public about Vicki?" Roger asked, changing topics again.
"I think I will eventually," Elizabeth answered, thankful for the change of subject. "I owe it to her. For now, we've agreed to keep this within the family."
Roger nodded.
"So you're going to accept her into our family?" Elizabeth asked pointedly.
"She's been living with us for a year, and she's my son's governess," Roger responded properly.
"Does that mean you accept her?" Elizabeth pressed.
"I suppose I have all this time." Roger shuffled on his feet.
"Yes, in your own peculiar way," Elizabeth said wryly.
"But do tell me this," Roger said firmly. "Will Vicki's father materialize out of thin air and drag us all into a scandal? You were forced to give her up. Surely, her father was a deplorable scoundrel."
"No, Roger." Elizabeth's eyes hardened. "That won't happen."
Roger peered at her quietly, his face a dubious mask. "I hope not."
He stepped passed her, heading back to the dining room. "Let's return to dinner. I'd hate to waste a good duck."
Elizabeth followed. When she reached the door, she heard Carolyn and David peppering Vicki with questions about the foundling home. They spoke to her warmly. The governess was clearly thankful of their acceptance.
Roger approached her chair. "Vicki – welcome to the family," he said stoically.
"Thank you," Vicki replied.
From the dining room's entrance, Elizabeth watched her long lost daughter being accepted into the Collins fold. But she couldn't shake off the angst that obviously clung to this moment.
"Your name is Gerard Stiles?" Barnabas furrowed his brow, his eyes filled with questions.
"That it is." The dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger glide away from the fireplace, sizing up his summoners. They were still gathered around the table, their black candlestick extinguished.
"That is unfortunate," Julia spoke. "We were attempting to summon Judah Zachery."
"Judah Zachery is a damned, blackened soul," Gerard growled. "You'll have to make do with me."
"Is he so bad that he's being held in a special part of hell?" Maggie asked, petrified at that possibility.
"What sorta warlock were you hopin' to call, Barnabas?" Willie cut in heatedly. "Ya really wanted to get the most rotten one?"
"Judah Zachery is historically the earliest local coven leader that Julia and I discovered in our research," Barnabas defended. "He had many followers. From what we read in the Gazette's archives, he seemed to have a history with my family. What exactly, the articles we found didn't elaborate. Only that my ancestor Amadeus Collins was involved in his execution."
"Why would you summon him if he had some sort of bad blood with your family?" Maggie pressed.
"I would have handled him Maggie," Barnabas insisted flippantly. "The ritual itself protects us, and we used a specialized candle to suppress evil auras."
Inwardly, Maggie thought it was stupid of Barnabas to get over confident about witches. If Angelique was any indication, witches weren't exactly his forte.
"So, you are taking Judah Zachery's place?" Julia asked the demonic stranger they just summoned.
"A succinct assessment," Gerard Stiles affirmed, his hands loosely held behind his back.
"Barnabas and I didn't come across your name in our research," said Julia.
"I was never famous," Gerard claimed.
Barnabas narrowed his dark eyes. "You were tried for witchcraft?"
"Tried, slaughtered and forgotten," said Gerard.
"Were you a powerful warlock?" Barnabas questioned.
"I wasn't anywhere near as powerful as Judah Zachery," Gerard admitted. "But I supplemented my gifts with a little parlor magic."
"Interesting," Barnabas whispered.
"To my understanding, the witch called Angelique is the prime reason you're knocking on the devil's door this fine evening," Gerard put in.
"I need assistance to be rid of her for good," Barnabas told him.
"Exactly," Julia added. "We intend to combine contemporary scientific methodology with old world mysticism."
"That sounds – fascinating." Gerard was a little befuddled by her reasoning.
But he didn't dwell on it. For the moment – he was free. He was finally liberated from hell. He could fully enact his curse. To smother that wench Miranda and the entire Collins clan in his dark shadows.
After participating in Barnabas and Julia's unholy and likely regrettable ceremony, Willie drove himself and Maggie home in the junker mobile.
The Evans cottage came into view, framed in red and green Christmas lights.
"Willie, I don't think what Barnabas and Julia did tonight is going to end well," Maggie said heavily.
"Yeah," Willie agreed, his voice just as heavy. "Callin' out a warlock from hell. That's nuts, even for them."
"Do you think this Gerard is a witch like Angelique or a demon?" Maggie was interested in his opinion.
"Nah, it'll be somethin' worse," Willie countered.
They parked in front of the snowy cottage. After switching off the rusty engine, Willie helped Maggie out of the truck. The couple maneuvered across the icy pavement hand-in-hand.
Tentatively they climb the porch steps and unlocked the front door. Once Willie opened it they quickly stepped inside the toasty warm cottage. Willie shut the door.
The living room lights were on, along with the Christmas tree, but Sam wasn't in the room.
Willie and Maggie slipped off their coats. While hanging them on the coat rack, Maggie stared around the living room. His painting supplies were scattered around, but there was no canvas on the easel.
"Pop! We're home!"
At the sound of his daughter's voice, Sam emerged from the kitchen, grasping a mug of hot coffee. His bearded face was tired, his eyes droopy.
"Do ya want me to do the dishes, Mr. Evans?" Willie asked.
"No, Willie." Sam slump himself down on the couch. "Go, relax."
"Okay, Mr. Evans." Willie crossed to the bathroom.
"It's Sam, Willie!" Sam chided tiredly at Willie's exiting back. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sam!"
"S-Sorry, Mr. E-Evans," Willie's voice stammered from the opened bathroom door. "I'll get it eventually." He shut himself in the bathroom.
"Yeah, like third grade. Just four or five more times and you'll have it," Sam grumbled moodily.
Maggie hovered over him at the couch, plainly concerned by his irritability. "Are you alright, Pop?"
Sam glance up at her. "Yes, Maggie. Why are you worried?"
"You look pale," Maggie observed. "And that snipe on Willie was pretty nasty and uncalled for."
Sam shrugged, taking a sip of his piping hot coffee. "I'm just tired."
"Did you meet with Victor Fenn-Gibbon?" Maggie asked pointedly. "You said you were going to talk to him about Quentin's portrait."
"I haven't seen him today," Sam lied.
"You didn't?" Maggie wasn't convinced.
"I didn't see him."
"Pop, tell me the truth! You look troubled, and we both know you're lousy in keeping your troubles from me."
"Maggie, I'm fine," Sam claimed, keeping his tone neutral.
"Are you, really?" Maggie still didn't believed him. "Truly?"
Sam looked at her with what he hoped were honest looking eyes. Maggie just eyed him disbelievingly.
"Really, I'm fine." Sam tried again. "Really – I am."
Maggie lowered her eyes, contemplating. She reached her hand down from underneath the top of her dress, producing a golden necklace. The medallion that Josette gifted her, to ward off witches and their insidious magic.
She slipped it off and handed it to her pale and troubled father. "Remember, I told you about this. I think you need it more than me and Willie do."
Sam looked blankly at the medallion with its long chain piled up on his palm. He lifted his heavy eyes back to his daughter.
"Josette gave it to us. Trust me it helps," Maggie said encouragingly. "It should help you. When you're ready to tell me what is wrong, I'll be here. Like always."
Sam watched as she moved away from the couch, disappearing into her bedroom.
Sam stared at the medallion in his meaty hand, feeling its weight.
"Yeah, sure, Maggie," he mumbled to himself. "Like always."
He produced a flask from under one of the couch cushions. Tossing the medallion aside on the coffee table, he poured some whiskey into his coffee.
Next Chapter: Preparations