Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine
CHAPTER 23: SHADOWING THE MATRIARCH
At the arrival of a drab morning, a dense fog clouded the house by the sea.
Dressed in his gray smoking jacket, Nicholas sauntered into the parlor, finding Angelique's man slave sleeping uncomfortably on the drafty hard floor. He slept in the fetal position in front of the fireplace, now devoid of warmth.
Nicholas tutted. It was unsightly for Angelique to leave her toys lying underfoot.
He strode over to the slumbering slave.
"Joe," Nicholas called in a grimace. What a common name this boy had been given. The warlock decided to use another tactic. "Haskell! Haskell, wake up!"
On the cold floor, Joe stirred. He slowly blinked open his eyes, finding the warlock towering over him.
"Rise and shine, dear boy," Nicholas greeted brightly. "You have a big day ahead of you."
"Yeah, I guess do," Joe mumbled groggily on the floor, running his fingers through his ruffled dark hair. "But I only serve my mistress." The exhausted young man shut his eyes, intending to continue his restless sleep.
Nicholas' eyes sparked at this audacity.
He sharply kicked the young man in the back.
"For general information, this concerns your precious mistress." Nicholas smiled down on the very much awake Joe Haskell.
For a moment, Joe looked furious. But it quickly faded behind the witch's curse.
Expecting this response, Nicholas continued. "I want you to succeed every bit as much as our dear Angelique. But we need to start getting serious about the situation up at Collinwood."
With his head lying flat on the floor, Joe blankly stared up at Nicholas.
"What do you think we should do?"
"For starters, I want you to discreetly rummage through that professor's collection of mystic trinkets." Nicholas smiled again, though this time it looked more like a leer. "Don't worry, dear boy, I don't expect you to think for yourself. I'll provide you with a list of what to look out for."
"To end her banishment at Collinwood," Joe supplied.
"And yours at the Old House," Nicholas added. "So you may gift your glorious mistress with her portrait. If you do well, I might even help you find more ways to make yourself useful."
With a stony look, Joe lifted himself off the cold floor. He got up to his feet, looking at Nicholas evenly.
"I don't answer to you."
"Don't be so short-sighted, Haskell," the warlock spoke airily. "You may find that I can be a much more reliable master than that love struck witch."
Joe's vision fogged red. He had to fight a suicidal compulsion to deck the smug warlock. "I'm going to the collage."
"Good." The warlock handed Joe a small, neatly wrote list. "Memorize it and destroy it. If you're caught with that, it could be the death of Angelique."
Joe nodded soberly and turned to leave.
The warlock heard him shutting the front door.
"We'll need to work on his attitude," Nicholas growled.
Bundled up in his coat, Joe got a bone-chilling blast of winter straight to his face. Through the sharp icy mist, he heard a bemused chuckle.
"I commend you for not wavering under that preening warlock, sailor." Nathan Forbes' voice echoed through the chilling breeze. "He needs to learn there is more than one rooster in the witch's coup."
Joe grunted at the sound of Nathan's slimy voice as he trudged through the snow.
In the nearby shed, Millicent knelt on translucent knees, trying desperately to reclaim the wretched hammer.
Her hand kept uselessly streaming through its handle.
Millicent cried in silent frustration.
"Oooh – I know I can touch it! I've picked it up and threw it at that louse! But how did I do it?"
Millicent floated off the floor, her legs still folded beneath her. Glumly, she hovered over to the window.
"Must I practice without end!" she wailed. "How many times must I try?!"
She peered through the icy window, catching sight of Joe through the drifting mist, trudging through the thick snow.
"He is still beholden to her," Millicent murmured. "And I so wanted to surprise him with some new-found power."
She watched sadly as he trailed away.
"I won't give up," Millicent vowed. "I will find my strength. But I shan't allow Nathan to corrupt him in the meantime. I simply have to watch over him."
Millicent shot through the window, finally departing from her isolated shed.
As she sped away however, most of the tools rustled at the disturbance. The hammer even rattled on the floor.
With Millicent gone, the shed fell back into still frigidness.
Up at Collinwood, Vicki and Carolyn, now dressed for the day, came descending down the staircase side by side.
"When are you visiting Barnabas?" Carolyn asked Vicki.
"After morning lessons with David," Vicki replied.
"Nervous?" Carolyn asked as they stepped down to the bottom landing.
"Honesty, yes," Vicki admitted. "Barnabas and I are close. I just don't know if we're peers. He's from a different generation."
"I guess this will be a test to see if he is a true friend," Carolyn offered.
Vicki silently dropped her eyes to the flagstone floor.
Carolyn crossed to the coat rack. Vicki noticed she had boots on.
"Are you going out?"
Carolyn split her attention between Vicki and her coat as she buttoned up.
"I'm going to visit Joe."
"Is he alright?" Vicki asked. "He seems withdrawn lately."
"No, Vicki, he's not," Carolyn said truthfully. "But I'm going to help him."
I almost hope the ghost of my loopy ancestor is watching out for him.
"Is there anything at all I can do to help?" Vicki asked.
"I wish there were," Carolyn replied. "But this is personal."
And dangerous.
"Tell him I wish him well," Vicki urged worriedly.
"I will," said Carolyn.
She wrapped her white scarf around her neck and slipped on her matching gloves.
"I'll see you later, Vicki."
"I hope you have a nice day, Carolyn."
"Thanks." Carolyn opened the front doors. "Good luck with Barnabas."
As she turned to depart, she nearly collide into Willie and Maggie at the threshold. They'd just arrived.
Carolyn gave them a harsh look as she shoved her way passed. Willie and Maggie watched her go, sharing a bland look. There was still no telling how much Joe and Carolyn knew about Barnabas.
"Come in!" Vicki called from inside.
The couple stepped inside Collinwood and shut its doors.
"Good morning," Maggie greeted Vicki, while she and Willie slipped out of their coats.
"Mornin'," Willie added.
"Good morning," Vicki replied pleasantly. "The caterers will be here in a little while."
"That's okay," said Willie. "I get more done with 'em gone."
With the gray winter sky gradually shifting a little lighter, Joe still moved monotonously through the woods. The trek to the collage daunted him.
"I wish I could find my damn truck," he mumbled bluntly to himself.
"There you are!" A female voice came from behind him.
Joe looked over his shoulder, finding that the voice belonged to a living Collins - Carolyn.
"You had a rough night." Carolyn took in his wrinkled clothes, uncombed hair and haggard eyes.
"There was a fireplace." Joe tried to comfort her.
"Really?" Carolyn raised her brows. "And people thought I was rough on you."
"How was your night, Carolyn?" Joe asked earnestly.
"We had the usual family drama," Carolyn answered, rolling her eyes. She deliberately withheld the bombshell about Vicki. Agreeing with her mother and sister's wishes to keep it a secret. Perhaps even for their own protection.
"But that's nothing unusual, you know." Carolyn shrugged. "I was worried about you."
Joe shut his eyes awkwardly.
Carolyn grew more resolved.
"Let's stop dancing around each other, Haskell. Are a pair of witches about to ambush me and throw me into their bubbly cauldron?"
Joe opened his eyes. His features softened. "They know that you want to help me. They know about that professor. But they don't know about the professor's enchantment.
" I didn't betray you, Carolyn," Joe spoke softly. "Her spell tried to make me, but all I did about it was moon over her."
"The enchantment worked," Carolyn exclaimed.
She pulled him into a warm hug.
"I'm so relieved," she whispered into his ear, warming his pale cheek with her warm breath. Joe quickly and gently let go of her, etching a grim look on his face. "I'm still under her spell. Please don't let yourself forget that."
"Can you come with me to see the professor?" Carolyn asked hopefully.
"Yes, yes, I can." Joe nodded, though he tried to hide his compulsion.
"Didn't I hear you grumbling about your truck?" Carolyn queried.
"Yeah – I guess you could say I misplaced it," Joe said sheepishly.
"Perks of being brainwashed by a witch, I'm sure," Carolyn quipped. "We'll go up to the garage and take my car."
"Sounds good to me." Joe had no objections.
Carolyn took his pale, icy hand into her warm, glove-covered one. She lead him in the direction of the Great House.
As they trailed away, Millicent's sweet voice rustled through the sparkling, frosted tree branches.
"I am relieved you have a true friend with a heartbeat, Joe Haskell. But I will still watch over you."
In the drafty stone basement at the Old House, Judah found himself in a degrading position. He sat on a chair that peculiarly was equipped with restraints.
Judah was strapped to the chair. The notion that a few strips of leather and spindly creaking wood could restrain a being of his power was disparaging. However, he found being relentlessly poked by a woman doctor to be even more humiliating.
In his era, doctors were portly, wizened men. But Judah had never trusted the fragrant herbalist that dominated the field in his time. It felt far more violating however to receive this detached scrutiny.
What more, he'd discovered that medical science had changed enormously since his time.
The Hoffman woman wrapped a thick cloth bracelet around his upper arm, claiming she was checking his blood pressure of all things. She then proceeded to inflate the contraption.
She also pointed a blinding light into his pupils. Naturally, he tried to close his eyes. But the maddening woman had the gall to chastise him for it. At this point, he was ready to curse her. Consequences be damned. However, before the words could form on his lips, she was holding something like a silver coin to his heart. On the small silver disk, two thin strings had been affixed. The doctor stuffed the ends of these strings into her own ears. The absurdity of the visual was simply too comical to stay angry.
All the while, the ancient warlock was pestered by whispers of the dead. The Collinses were suspicious of him. As Judah had expected. He felt countless spectral eyes peering into him. Seeing nothing, of course.
"This is pure folly." Judah heard the voice of one of the dead Collins patriarchs. "Summoning a warlock from the netherworld, of all the blasted places! My poor son is indeed desperate. For once, I am glad Millicent is so distracted. I do not want to know what she would make of this devil!"
Judah let himself smirk. This face wore the expression well. So far the Collinses seemed to regard him as little more than a reprobate to be turned away from the gates.
Gerard Stiles' face was working wonders. He was so pleased, he'd barely noticed that the lady doctor had finished her inspection.
"Hmmm – interesting," Julia mused, more to herself. "But horrific."
"What is it, Julia?" Barnabas made his presence known.
"I – I don't detect any signs of life," Julia stammered slightly. "No pulse or heartbeat. This man can't possibly be alive."
"Is he a vampire?" Barnabas interrupted.
"My mere existence transcends death and life itself." Judah spoke over both of them, stretching a dashing smile. "I doubt you have encountered anything quite like myself."
"I need to study this more thoroughly." Julia stared at her subject narrowly.
"Perhaps this is a breakthrough, Julia," Barnabas suggested. "Angelique appeared to be dead, but acts very much alive."
"Possibly," Julia agreed.
"This could be something specific to ancient magic," Barnabas theorized. "My curse was also a form of undeath."
Judah was amused that neither of the two bothered asking for confirmation on their theories. Apparently, they did not trust him.
"I'm going to perform more tests," said Julia. "It's time to seriously crack black magic once and for all."
Judah's eyes widened at the woman's tone. But he took comfort that his dark spy still slithered through the Great House.
Up at Collinwood, an inky shadow hid in a corner of the dark high ceilings, in one of the bottom story, paneled corridors. The shadow detected a young woman creaking her way down the lonely passage. It was a woman that the shadow had tasted before.
She'd already shown it a glimpse into the past.
Frustrated, the shadow swiftly slithered away from the corridor. The soft swoosh of air its exit caused had Maggie freezing in her steps below.
She wasn't alone. She shot her brown eyes upward. Not that ghosts were supposed to be visible, unless they wanted. But sometimes she'd catch a glimpse out of the corner of her eye.
Maggie, however, didn't see anything.
This wasn't a shock.
Lately, the Collins ghosts preferred to keep to themselves. But Maggie and Willie could feel them. She felt nothing now so she guessed she was alone. Still, Maggie couldn't help but wonder who'd just floated passed.
Certainly not Josette. Maggie would've smelled the jasmine. It couldn't have been little Sarah.
Maggie's thoughts shifted to Carl Collins. She wondered how he'd been lately. Was he still guarding that wall in the West Wing? Likely. He seemed caught up with that mess. She remembered reading in that Collins history book that Carl and Quentin were brothers.
Maggie wondered what their sibling dynamic had been like. Probably horrific. When she first met Carl, he vaguely stated that Quentin murdered his own brother.
Maggie shuddered. She forced her thoughts to shift to a different family. Her own.
Oh, Pop, I hope you keep a hold on that medallion.
Rounding a corner, Maggie decided it was probably best to focus on her present situation. Her morning chores had been uneventful. (Something she found welcoming.) Roger Collins was engrossed with his party preparations. (Hopefully not hounding poor Willie.) While Mrs. Stoddard shut herself away.
Lately, when the matriarch kept to herself, Maggie would smell a slight briny tinge in the air. Like the beach after a storm. Only, this wasn't the season for opened windows. And then there were the mysterious conversations she'd occasionally walk in on. But she would always find Mrs. Stoddard alone. Which was strange because Mrs. Stoddard's voice wasn't the only one she would overhear.
Maggie found it all suspicious. But assumed that her boss merely had her own supernatural contacts. She only hoped it wasn't anything connected to Barnabas and his witch.
Still, Maggie was reminded of what a secretive woman Mrs. Stoddard had always been. She wondered how dangerous this secret could be.
With the happenings at Collinwood presently being quite dull, Maggie decided to check on Willie in the Great Hall.
She froze however when she saw a face peering in at her through a nearby window, causing her to gasp in surprise. It was a devilish face with sparking dark eyes and a black goatee. He wore a gray fedora and a killer smile.
It was Nicholas Blair. The witch's supposed brother.
He flirtatiously gestured with his eyes toward something down the corridor. Maggie followed his line of sight.
The doors to the terrace were nearby.
Maggie was wary but decided to head over.
She instinctively reached to her medallion, but quickly remembered she'd left it with her Pop.
When she reached the doors, she found the obviously wicked man leaning against the terrace's railing, apparently eager for their upcoming meeting. Maggie felt vulnerable without the medallion. But she ultimately decided to face this warlock, ghoul or whatever he was with a brassy attitude.
She was no pushover. Besides, as one of Barnabas' hellish enemies, Maggie supposed there was little point in running or hiding.
She flung the doors open and stepped out to the icy terrace.
"Hello, Mr. Blair." She gamely greeted with a tight lipped smile. "Should I inform Mr. Collins that you're here, or maybe Mrs. Stoddard?"
"Oh, that shouldn't be necessary," the man said smoothly. "Please, call me Nicholas."
"Do you need to pick up some of Cassandra's things?" Maggie asked.
"No, I came to see you, my dear." Nicholas trailed his roving eyes to her bare legs. "That's a lovely work dress. But aren't you a touch cold?"
"I need to get back to work." Maggie turned to the doors. "We are all busy -"
"But this will only take a moment of your time." Nicholas' words cut through her own like a knife, pinning her in place.
Maggie glanced at him from over her shoulder. "What is it?"
"Well, you see, I'm new in town." Nicholas smiled. "I've never had the distinction of visiting an honest to goodness fisherman's tavern. And I'm afraid I may embarrass myself without a hospitable local, to translate your charming New England dialect. Perhaps you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Blue Whale this evening."
Maggie smiled back. "I'm afraid my boyfriend wouldn't like that."
"Oh, but you misunderstand." Nicholas feigned innocence. "I just want some friendly company as I try to acquaint myself with this town. I am still new here."
"But don't you need to take care of your mentally ill sister?" Maggie asked.
"What? Cassandra?" Nicholas snorted. "She just needs some bed rest."
"Yes, lots of it," Maggie remarked.
"She's doing much better," Nicholas said, sounding relieved. "I am not her full-time nurse."
"I see," Maggie responded.
"So, how about it, Maggie?" Nicholas pressed hopefully.
"I can't promise anything," Maggie said frankly. "But, if I'm free, I might end up there tonight – and bring Willie along."
"But that's doesn't sound very free," Nicholas tutted.
"Have a nice day, Mr. Blair." Maggie coolly stepped back into the mansion, shutting the terrace doors with a grimace on her face. She kept her back squarely to the doors so her "suitor" couldn't see her face through the glass.
What was with this Nicholas Blair and his smarmy flirtations?
Up on the ceiling of the corridor, the slithering shadow came upon the opened double doors of the so-called Great Hall. Intrigued by the harried movements of human bodies running rampant in the room, the shadow slithered inside.
It silently slid behind gold streamers as it maneuvered on the ceiling.
The humans below were distracted, scattering festoonery across the room.
It hid itself inside the shadow of the gaudy bow decking the gothic chandelier. It spotted familiar prey. A sandy-haired human that the shadow had used once before. He, along with the young woman out in the corridors.
The young woman found her way back to her companion yet again. The shadow noted this predictable pattern. Assuming that its master would find this interesting. The man was occupied, untangling strings of lights.
"Hey, baby," the shadow heard him greet her affectionately.
Ignoring his greeting, the woman immediately began talking. "You won't believe who just stopped by."
"Who?" The man looked worried.
"Nicholas Blair," the woman said seriously.
"Where is he?" The man sounded unnerved.
"We spoke on the terrace -" the woman explained.
"Was Angelique with 'im?" the man quickly interrupted.
"No, I think he asked me out for a date," the woman replied.
This statement seemed to shake the man. He took a moment before he replied.
"What did he say?"
The woman huffed in frustration. "Basically, he wants to take me to a bar."
The man scowled. "What did ya say?"
"I blew him off, of course." The woman seemed offended. "Give me some credit, sweetheart."
"I don't like 'im slimin' on ya," the man drawled.
"It's creepy, believe me, I know," said the woman. "But we have bigger ghouls to fry."
The man remained solemn. "If he's one of 'em witches, there's no tellin' how bad this could get."
Something drew the man's attention to a window on the far side of the room. "Dammit."
"Nicholas Blair?" The woman's head whipped around, trying to see what he saw.
"I think it was Jason." The man's tone was for her ears only.
"What?" The woman searched through the window. "I don't see anyone. Was he sneaking around?"
"Yeah," the man replied.
"I better go tell Mrs. Stoddard." The woman hurried toward the doors.
"Wait, I'll come with ya." The man tossed the string of lights aside.
As it watched the pair leave the room, the shadow was already moving to follow.
Faraway from the Great Hall, Elizabeth sat primly on the couch in the drawing room, ignoring Roger's unwanted caterers bustling in and out of the foyer.
Feeling irritable, Elizabeth shut her eyes. She couldn't relax with strangers in the house. It was like trying to sleep in a bed when you knew there was a spider hiding in the sheets.
She heard a pair of footsteps approaching. Elizabeth dearly hoped she wasn't forced to speak with one of them. She'd made it clear to Roger that only he dealt with them.
When she opened her eyes, she was relieved to find only Vicki nervously staring down at her beside the couch.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you Mrs. - erm – Mother."
"Oh, no, Vicki. I was just shutting out your uncle's caterers."
Vicki nodded. "I've finished giving David his morning lessons."
"Oh – what time is it?" Elizabeth asked.
"Right after eleven," Vicki replied.
"Eleven?" Elizabeth massaged her brow. "Roger's caterers made the day feel much longer."
"I'm going to the Old House," Vicki told her.
"You're going to tell Barnabas?" Elizabeth asked.
Vicki nodded. "Not only has he become a dear friend to me, he is also family."
"Are you certain you want to tell him now?" Elizabeth asked wearily.
"Yes, I'm certain," Vicki said softly.
"Be careful in the woods," the mother told her paternally.
"I will," the daughter replied.
Elizabeth watched her slip on her coat in the foyer and leave through the front doors.
With Vicki gone, she decided to relocate further away from the caterers.
No sooner had Elizabeth disappeared from the foyer, Willie and Maggie hurried through the side door. They quietly filed through the opened doors of the recently vacated drawing room.
While they were distracted, the slithering shadow up on the ceiling quickly slipped out of the foyer, heading in the direction Elizabeth went.
"She's not in here, she's not in the kitchen," Willie muttered.
"How about the study?" Maggie suggested. "She's in there a lot."
Elizabeth had indeed moved to the study, shutting its heavy paneled door behind her. She was not surprised to find Bill Malloy's ghost haunting behind the desk, a warning look etched on his bearded, transparent face.
Even when he was alive he hadn't enjoyed the company of strangers any more than she did.
"Bill," Elizabeth uttered.
"Brace yourself, Liz," Bill gruffly warned. "You're getting a visitor."
"I am?" Elizabeth wondered if they could find room for anyone else.
Bizarrely, she heard a tap from what sounded like glass on the right side of the room. She shot her eyes to the window, displeased to find that the "visitor" was none other than Jason McGuire. He'd wore his tatty raincoat and sea captain's hat.
He was glowering outside the window, with the most irritable look spiking his eyes.
Completely undeterred, Elizabeth crossed to the window, latching it open.
"Took you long enough!" the Irishman growled, climbing his way inside.
As he climbed in, the slithering shadow oozed through the top crack of the study's doorway, melting into the shadows of the ceiling.
"I was beginning to wonder what became of you," Elizabeth scolded, as she shut the window. "I haven't heard from you in days."
"And Mrs. Stoddard might be too much of a lady to say it," Bill snipped from the desk. "But keep your boots off the rugs. You're filthy, McGuire."
"Har, har!" Jason retorted spitefully.
On the ceiling, the shadow locked its attention on Elizabeth and Jason.
"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth folded her arms, her eyes frosty.
"Exactly what I'm told," Jason said resentfully. "I've been lookin' into your new sister-in-law."
"Did you learn anything?" Elizabeth asked.
"You owe me some explanations." Jason scoffed. "Such as why she's not livin' here anymore. And how you shipped her into and out of a loony hospital."
"I see you've done some catching up," Bill remarked. "But did you learn anything that we don't already know?"
"Cassandra's unfortunate mental breakdown was unexpected," Elizabeth admitted.
"Ah – but her misfortune was very fortunate for you," Jason added shrewdly.
"She's no longer a thorn in this family's side." Elizabeth couldn't help sounding pleased.
"I had a looksy into Roger boy's finances," Jason piped up. "He hasn't been spendin' a shilling on her."
"I assumed he wouldn't," said Elizabeth. "My brother is often frugal with his exes."
"Yeah, well, now that your problem has been conveniently resolved, I s'pose I'll be gettin' paid." Jason had the gall to look expectant.
"Pay you for what?" Bill retorted. "You haven't told us anything we couldn't have told you over the phone – yesterday."
Jason scoffed. "Come now, I did everythin' you asked!"
"I'll be in contact with you," Elizabeth promised Jason. "As soon as you get paid, you're leaving Collinsport."
"Ah – twist my arm, love, twist my arm."
Elizabeth was unable to reply. A polite knocking came from the study's door.
"Mrs. Stoddard?"
The door opened. Maggie and Willie filled the doorway. The pair froze in shock when they saw Jason and the matriarch by the window.
The Irish con grinned shiftily at them. "Willie – funny seein' ya here."
"You're one to talk, Jason," Willie said blandly.
"This is my affair," Elizabeth interjected. "You two resume your duties."
But Maggie wasn't paying attention. The other presence in the room was incredibly distracting. The grizzled, dampened ghost covered in seaweed.
"B-Bill M-Malloy," she stammered.
Before Bill or anyone else could react, the shadow fell from the ceiling, swooping down like a transparent black sheet. It engulfed Elizabeth and Jason, coalescing into something resembling a funnel cloud.
"Liz!" Bill cried.
"Mrs. Stoddard!" Maggie screamed.
"Jason!" Willie shouted.
But there was nothing any of them could do.
With such powerful force, the shadow swept the helpless pair away.
In the basement at the Old House, Judah was still strapped to the chair. Dr. Julia Hoffman continued studying her new specimen.
They were in the thick of it now. As she'd asserted earlier, they'd moved on from the physical and were now entrenched in what she worryingly called cutting edge experimentation.
Since learning of his non-existent heartbeat, the female doctor had fixed two strange wires to his temples. Wires Judah discovered could actually force pain into his head. It caused him so much pain, it took him a moment to realize what was happening.
He didn't like it. She was somehow channeling raw energy from the sky, through the wires and into his skull. It was so novel, he was almost impressed. Perhaps even inspired.
Dr. Hoffman claimed she was reading his brainwaves. Judah didn't know what that meant. Nor did he care. This brain wasn't even his.
But the lightening wires were not the worst of these cursed experiments. Nor the most imaginative.
Dr. Hoffman – or as she claimed – science – had concocted something far worse. Out of the blue, she wrapped a thin length of cord around his upper arm, just like the inflatable bracelet. Bemused by her somber countenance, he remained silent, content to see where this was going. Then without so much as a glance at his face, she stabbed a thin needle into his arm. Ghastly, to be sure. But nothing compared to the horror of realizing that the vial connected to the needle, (which he had discounted as decoration) contained a liquid, which was currently being injected into his veins. Much like a snake's fang.
The injection was making him feel woozy, dulling his wits.
"Try casting a spell," the Hoffman woman instructed through his delirium.
Judah's vision blurred. He felt disconnected from his current body. Almost like a spirit. But he accepted the challenge. He hazily recalled a spell to call forth lightening. It was one of the earliest spells he had learned. Mostly to intimidate simple hicks. Perfect for the doctor.
But something was horrendously wrong. It was as if his magic couldn't make out what he was trying to do. Still he was an arch warlock from hell. And while he couldn't actually intone a spell, his magic dutifully shorted out most of the doctor's equipment.
"It seems to have disrupted his control over his magic," Judah heard the woman speak to the prime Collins. "But until we have a better idea what his base power line is we can only guess at the serum's true effect. We may have only intoxicated him."
"But it is progress," Barnabas spoke up. "The serum has weakened him. Just like your sedatives weakened Angelique. Chemically speaking they may be vulnerable. This could be a decisive weapon against Angelique."
"Yes," said Julia. "The key seems to lie in removing their conscious control over their faculties. Magic itself might be eternal, but its practitioners still have human minds. It appears those minds are still quite vulnerable. I need to keep him under observation. At least for the night."
They heard a knock coming from upstairs. Someone was at the front doors.
Julia gazed up the basement stairs along with Barnabas. "I wonder who that could be."
"Maybe it's Willie and Maggie bearing news about some catastrophe." Barnabas turned his eyes to Julia. "Stay down here and watch him."
He wasted no time ascending the stairs.
Julia watched him go in heavy contemplation.
She was so focused on Barnabas that she failed to notice Judah weakly struggling in the chair. He was perspiring heavily, turning sickly pale. What was that cursed venom she injected him with? There were few poisons he couldn't shrug off in the mortal world. Was there something to her science after all?
He heard echoing laughter. A smug, triumphant, obnoxious cackle.
"A terrible twist of fate indeed to be left with no control of your own body. I am glad I am not you."
Judah's eyes widened in shock and disgust.
Looming over him in the blasted chair was the former owner of the body he rightly stole.
The charlatan Gerard Stiles grinned down at him boyishly.
Up in the foyer, Barnabas strode to his front doors and flung them wide open. He found Vicki greeting him with her lovely smile.
"Good morning, Barnabas."
"Good morning, Vicki. Please, come in."
Once she came inside, he shut the doors and followed her into the parlor.
Julia watched discreetly through the bars on the iron basement door. She heard her test subject muttering incoherently – but harmlessly – from the test chair. The lady doctor's attention however was on the voices in the parlor.
Vicki sat on the armchair closest to the fire, obviously chilled. Barnabas leaned against the mantle.
"I'd like to apologize for being unavailable for dinner last evening. It seemed important to you."
"It was," Vicki admitted.
"I am terribly sorry for disappointing you," Barnabas said guiltily.
"It's alright, Barnabas," Vicki said kindly. "In fact, given Roger's reaction, I thought it might be best to tell you privately."
"Privately?" Barnabas looked at her with anticipation.
Just then, the two received a whiff of jasmine. It wafted into the parlor. Neither could admit to the other that they sensed Josette's presence.
It gave Barnabas pause.
However, it emboldened Vicki.
"Yes," she continued. "I found my mother."
"Vicki -" Barnabas was surprised. But he was also elated for the girl. "I'm glad for you." He frowned. "I didn't even know you were still conducting your search. I thought you had postponed it."
"I did," Vicki explained. "But I learned that my mother has been with me since I arrived here."
"This whole time?" Barnabas was honestly stunned. "Who is she?"
Vicki inhaled deeply. "Mrs. Stoddard."
Barnabas' eyes darkened. "Mrs. – Elizabeth!? – She's your mother!?"
"She had me when she was young and unmarried," Vicki told him nervously. "She had to give me up to a foundling home in New York."
Barnabas listened with a devastated look on his face.
"But she always kept watch over me," Vicki went on. "And then finally summoned me here. It took her over a year to tell me. But she finally did. I know that it was deceptive. But I also know it was heartbreaking for her. I forgave her, Barnabas."
Vicki gave him the most solemn look he'd ever seen on her face.
"I am a Collins, Barnabas. Your cousin. I know I am illegitimate. I just hope you don't think ill of me or my mother."
Barnabas was struck dumb. He'd never been more scandalized. How could anyone be so irresponsible? Having a child illegitimately – and keeping the sordid affair a secret! What more, that child was none other than the girl who'd captured his heart since his fateful return to Collinwood.
"Barnabas," Vicki spoke, breaking their silence. She looked crestfallen. "Please, say something."
He realized she was pleading with him.
"Barnabas," Vicki murmured.
Barnabas cleared his throat, though he doubted it would help him. He tried anyway.
"Vicki – I don't know what to say."
"Oh, I know Roger was shocked, too," said Vicki. "But he seems to accept it – more or less. Carolyn and David have been so sweet about it."
"Does Devlin know?" Barnabas questioned sharply.
"Of course," Vicki replied. "He's my fiance. He's been sweet about it, too."
Barnabas shot his eyes away from her. "Things are so very different now."
Vicki blinked. "Sorry, I don't understand."
Barnabas seemed to come back to himself. "Oooh – since moving to America." He faintly smiled. "Culture shock can sneak up on you. It- it's wonderful how accepting people are here."
"I don't know about that, Barnabas," Vicki said from the armchair. "I mean, I sure wouldn't encourage people to have a baby out of wedlock. I grew up with no home and no family. Also because of that, I know what it's like to live with that prejudice. I wouldn't shame anyone for it, either.
"If I ever become a mother, I want my child to grow up with a real home and family. Something I didn't have.
"All I ever wanted was a family. I finally found them. Now that I have, I never want to let them go."
She had a reminiscent look on her face.
"From the moment we met, Barnabas, I felt such a powerful connection. Our fascination with the past and the Collins family. I'd never really connected with anyone so quickly before. I believe our bond is due to us being family."
Barnabas remained stiffly quiet as Vicki continued her frantic babbling.
"Our friendship means so much to me. I hope you still feel the same."
Barnabas returned his gaze to her. Looking into her pretty face, he realized she was right to an extent. They shared a bond and a common interest. Whether or not that was due to their blood relation, he couldn't guess.
But there was one other thing they had in common.
They were both filthy secrets of the Collins family.
Only, Barnabas' existence was a truly wretched mistake. None of his family – not even Vicki – could learn the truth.
As he brooded on quietly staring at her, Josette's jasmine fragrance tingled his nostrils. He found something almost reassuring about it.
"From the moment I met you, Vicki, you reminded me so much of Josette," Barnabas said wistfully. "Even though Josette never had any children, I absolutely believe you inherited both her beauty and grace. It seems I was correct to give you her music box."
"I always felt close to her somehow," Vicki said dreamily. "I can actually smell her perfume right now." She laughed lyrically. "There you go again, Barnabas. Talking about Josette as though you actually knew her."
"She is a lovely girl, Barnabas," Josette's voice whispered sweetly into his ear. "But our love can only be shared by you and I. You could never duplicate it with another."
"There are times I feel closer to her than anyone else," Barnabas confessed to Vicki. "She will forever be in my heart."
Vicki blinked with a slightly uncomfortable look on her face. She quickly veered the conversation back on course.
"Do you accept me as a Collins?"
"I am admittedly scandalized by the situation," Barnabas huffed. "But thinking ill of you goes against every fiber of my being."
"Thank you, Barnabas," Vicki said relieved. "Oh – before I forget – we're keeping this within the family. We're not going public with this for a while."
"Of course," said Barnabas.
Vicki got up from her seat. "I need to get back to the Main House. We can still expect you at the party?"
"Promptly," Barnabas replied with a smile.
"I'm glad you're coming," said Vicki. "I'm looking forward to seeing you there. Oh – and Barnabas – thank you."
"Goodbye, Vicki."
"Goodbye, Barnabas."
Vicki let herself out.
Once she shut the doors and was out on the frigid, column porch, she paused.
"Barnabas – why are you so preoccupied with the past?" she whispered to herself. "And Josette?"
In the parlor, Barnabas leaned his arm on the fireplace mantle, contemplating what he'd just been told.
Victoria Winters was an illegitimate Collins.
It made him wince.
"Barnabas." Julia's voice came into the parlor. Barnabas saw her standing at the pillar entrance. "Are you alright?"
"I am a bit – distracted – at the moment," he said curtly, hiding his eyes from her.
Julia stepped into the parlor. "I heard what Vicki told you."
"You eavesdropped?" Barnabas was truly mortified now.
"That's right." Julia approached him at the mantle. "And I know why you are so upset."
Barnabas still avoided her gaze.
"I'm sorry. I know you liked Vicki."
"Are you really sorry about this, Julia?" Barnabas wondered.
"I think this is an even bigger setback than you realize," said Julia. "Since your sensibilities are left over from the seventeen-hundreds. Today, it is unacceptable for one to be romantically involved with a blood relative."
Barnabas frowned. "We're hardly siblings."
"Inbreeding has been linked to mental illnesses and even physical mutation," Julia informed.
"But cousins marry to keep the bloodline pure," Barnabas argued. "It's been going on since biblical times."
"Those ancient bloodlines mostly died out. Due to degenerative diseases and reproductive complications," Julia countered. "I suppose the violent bouts of psychosis didn't help, either. Generally, most modern people dismiss such relationships, finding them grotesque. It's no longer socially acceptable, Barnabas."
The dark man was stunned to hear this. What a draconian world he was now lost in.
"I hope you'll try to make Vicki feel welcome in the family," Julia offered.
"I don't know how to feel about this," Barnabas said, more hurt than confused.
Julia consoled him by gently squeezing his arm on the mantle. "If it's any consolation, once she's married to Devlin, she'll still be more to you than just another man's wife." Julia's face softened perceptively. "Just try to remember that you're not alone. I'm here for you."
Barnabas quietly listened to her.
Josette's words from earlier haunted his mind. Our love can only be shared by you and I. You could never duplicate it with another.
In the basement, Judah was still strapped to the spindly torture chair, his eyelids squeezed shut. It felt to him like that horrible woman had forced a hot coal between his ears.
How could that mortal possibly make him this ill?
He tried desperately to clear his mind of all thoughts. To erase the memory of the man who was the true owner of this body.
He felt the pressure in his head ease slightly.
But when he opened up his eyes, he found to his annoyance that Gerard Stiles still leaned over him.
"Do not worry, old boy." Gerard grinned sardonically. "I would never leave you in this sorry state. You look to need me desperately."
At Collinwood, Elizabeth and Jason were swept away by swirling madness. They'd gotten enveloped by a mass of colorless shadow sweeping them away – someplace.
It was pitch black.
"LIZ!" She heard Jason yell hysterically through the darkness. "LIZ! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!"
Elizabeth couldn't yell. Couldn't speak. She couldn't see Jason. She couldn't see anything.
Just impenetrable blackness pulling her down into a bottomless whirlpool.
In all honesty she was terrified.
She began to wonder if she somehow died.
But that couldn't be. Bill would be with her.
At last, the terrible wind stopped swirling around Elizabeth. The veil of darkness parted like curtains. She found herself in – her bedroom.
She was only slightly disappointed to find a petrified Jason, who stood in front of her, right where she left him. He was tightly clutching his grubby hat, which presumably fell off his head amid the chaos. He firmly placed it back on his head.
When he realized Elizabeth was standing in front of him, he looked somewhat relieved to see her. But the tension never left his eyes.
"Liz, what the hell was that? Where are we?"
"This looks like my bedroom." Elizabeth stared around with cool eyes.
This indeed looked to be her bedroom. But her furniture was absent. Her canopy bed – vanity.
Much of what she saw now had since been stored up in the West Wing. A velvet red sette by the window. An antique nightstand. A Parisian vanity. Pieces that Vicki selected for her and Burke to have once they married.
Other pieces, however, she couldn't identify.
Furthermore, Elizabeth noticed that it was night through the drawn curtains of the window. The room was lit by a few dim candles and a gas lamp.
But after Vicki's testimonial, none of this came as a surprise.
"If this is your room, then who is that withered lass dyin' in your bed?!" Jason pointed.
Elizabeth shot her eyes to the bed. An elderly woman was indeed lying in a four-poster. A bed that wasn't Elizabeth's.
The bed curtains were floral, and the curved wooden headboard was styled intricately with artistic detail. The whole bed looked a little like an elaborate carriage.
Elizabeth stared at the old woman in the bed. Her frail body was tucked into a small immobile lump under a thick quilt. Peering more closely, she seemed to be wearing a pink nightgown with a lacy white collar. Her tousled silver hair curtained on her fluff pillow.
The woman's round, wrinkled face was faintly familiar. What really struck Elizabeth was how real she looked. Nothing like a portrait or one of the faded pictures from a book.
"Hey!" Jason called to the old woman rudely. "What's all this then? What are ya doin' in Liz's bed? Better yet, what the bloody hell am I doin' here!?"
The old woman didn't respond.
"Oi!" Jason snapped. "Are you deaf? Say somethin'!"
Still no response. The old woman didn't even acknowledge him.
"She has to be a Collins," Jason growled. "Only you lot could work me up this much."
The door of the bedroom opened.
Jason's jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. A woman in a grim black dress quietly stepped in and gently closed the door. A woman who looked exactly like – Liz! Jason shot his wide accusing eyes back and forth between Elizabeth and her doppelganger.
"Are you and your ghosts havin' me on, Liz?" Jason demanded.
"Shut up!" Elizabeth snapped. "They can't see us! But I want to hear them!"
"They can't see us?" Jason looked skeptical. "Why the hell not then?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said shortly. "But something like this has happened before. This shadow has forced us into the past. It should be over soon enough."
"Huh?!" Jason looked more lost.
All the while, Elizabeth's doppelganger demurely seated herself beside the old woman's bed. "You wish to see me, Grandmama?"
"Yes, Judith." The old woman grasped Judith's hand with both of hers. The old woman's hands were fragile and pale. Likely ice cold. "Has Quentin arrive, yet?"
"No." Judith shook her head.
"What about Edward?" the old woman pressed.
"No, just Carl," Judith replied.
"Oh." The old woman dropped her gaze to her quilt. "If they delay much longer, I'm afraid I'll be gone by the time they arrive."
"I am here, Grandmama." Judith squeezed her hands encouragingly.
"Yes, you are." The grandmother looked touched. "I have always been fond of you, Judith."
"Oh." Judith seemed flattered.
Elizabeth stared at Judith. The woman's attempt at sincerity came across as painfully fake. A total snake in the grass.
A traditional Collins.
"I'd like to tell you many things, Judith." The old woman's voice had gone hoarse. "Many things. Secrets, even."
"Secrets?" Judith looked at her quizzically.
"Yes." The old woman noticeably paled, her eyes going hazy. Sweat glistened on her brow. Elizabeth thought she looked delirious. "Wicked secrets. Family secrets." She coughed and wheezed violently into her handkerchief.
Without warning, the shadow whirled around Elizabeth and Jason, sweeping them away from Judith and her grandmama. They were smothered in blackness once more, assaulted wildly in what it must have felt like being trapped inside a vortex.
"Liz! Dammit! Where are ya!" Elizabeth heard Jason's terrified cry.
But as before she couldn't see him.
"Liz!"
"Jason!" Elizabeth shouted into the blackness. "I can't see you!"
"Liz?" another voice called out to her, more distant than Jason's.
Elizabeth's spirit lifted. "Bill! Where are you?!"
"In the study, Liz!" Bill's bellowing voice answered. "Where are you?"
"It feels like a gale," Elizabeth called, fighting against something almost like wind.
"You sound closer Mrs. Stoddard!" Maggie's voice cut in. "Follow our voices!"
"Jason!" Willie sounded confused. "Can you hear me?"
"Willie!" Jason hollered.
"This way!" Willie called.
"Come back to me, Liz!" Bill's voice cried.
Elizabeth moved in the direction of the three loud voices. The strong winds beat on her from every direction. The pins in her hair feebly protected her bun from the wind. The inky blackness began to dissipate. The light returned to Elizabeth as the wind and the dark evaporated completely.
Elizabeth and Jason found themselves back in the study, standing right where they were by the window. Like they'd never left.
Jason shakily placed his hat back on again, while Elizabeth's hair now messily fell passed her shoulders.
Bill's ghost, along with the living but frantic energy of Willie and Maggie, were in the room with them.
"Liz! Thank God you're alright!" Bill pulled the matriarch into a cold, damp embrace.
"Ya still kickin', Jason?" Willie asked his old friend.
He and Maggie came up to him and Elizabeth at the window.
"What in God's name is going on!?" Jason spat. "Ay, Willie, I'm still in one piece." he added as an aside.
"Mrs. Stoddard, you and Jason were swallowed by those shadows," Maggie spoke.
"Yes, Maggie, we were," Elizabeth said, as Bill reluctantly release her from his transparent arms.
Some spectral seaweed was sticking to her blouse.
"What the hell was that shadow?" Jason demanded, still visibly traumatized.
"We don't know," Maggie admitted.
"You don't know!" Jason snapped. "What do you know exactly?"
"It ate me and Maggie not too long ago," Willie informed him, as though they were discussing the weather. "It took us to the past."
"How – How can you be so damn casual?" Jason stammered.
Willie merely shrugged.
"What did you see?" Bill asked Elizabeth gently.
"My ancestors I believe," Elizabeth told him. "I need to consult the family history."
Footsteps approached from outside the study.
"I'm home." Vicki showed herself at the doorway.
She discovered Jason McGuire – Willie and Maggie – along with her mother with a seaweed ghost floating lovingly beside her.
"What's Jason McGuire doing here!" Vicki screeched.
"Vicki, dear, we need someone to investigate these shadows in this house," Elizabeth said calmly.
Next Chapter: Seeking Help