Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis production and not mine
CHAPTER 24: SEEKING HELP
"The – the shadows?" Vicki uttered worryingly. "Did they take you away to the past? Like they did with Burke and I, or Maggie and Willie?"
"Yes, the shadows helpfully included Jason, however," Elizabeth replied.
Vicki shot her dark eyes at Jason. "What are you doing here?"
"Vicki, this is not the time," Elizabeth scolded. "Do you know the phone number of that collage professor?"
"I'm sure Carolyn has the number somewhere," Vicki stammered. "I'll check her itinerary. If I can't find it there, I'll call administration."
"Please, do," Elizabeth urged.
Vicki laid her eyes on the transparent ghost of Bill Malloy, eyeing his damp clothes and dangling seaweed. He looked exactly as he did when he and the widows were haunting Matthew Morgan. That was a little over a year ago.
As incredible and horrifying as it was, now was not the time to gawk. Her mother was right. It was time to get into contact with someone more knowledgeable than themselves. Besides, now that she was a Collins, she had more important things to do than marvel over a ghost.
Vicki teared herself away from the study.
Maggie had no such pretensions. She went right on staring at Bill. She guessed he was the source of the sea breeze that wafted around the matriarch. And the disembodied voice that she sometimes overheard talking with her.
"You'll make your beau jealous staring like that," the ghost spoke.
"Yeah – sorry." Maggie sheepishly ran a hand through her locks. She forced her attention to her employer. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Stoddard?"
"Been far too long since you last poured me a cup of your piping hot coffee," the ghost playfully interjected.
"Yes, Maggie, tea please," Elizabeth replied
"Earl Grey," Jason ordered gruffly.
Maggie looked at him cross-eyed as she turned and left the study.
Once she was gone, Elizabeth moved to the bookcase, leaning in to peer more closely at the faded bindings. Bill floated beside her, interested in what she was doing. He also admired how her long dark hair fell passed her shoulders, the result of her shadowed journey blowing away her bun. Bill thought she should wear her hair down more often.
Willie pulled Jason to the right front corner near the window.
"What are you doin' here?" Willie whispered. "I thought you skipped town."
"I was hired to do an honest job," Jason whispered.
Willie scoffed. "What? Some long shore-men hired you to ripoff my girl?"
"Ya still sore 'bout that?" Jason was amused. "You fleeced 'er earrings right back, didn' you?"
"Jason." Willie's voice was not amused. "Why are ya here?"
"The grand dame called for me," Jason bragged. "Who am I to deny her."
"What?" Willie snorted. "C'mon, Jason. You don't have ta look that hard to find a drunk sailor in Collinsport."
"Ah, but those rummies lack my worldly charm," Jason gloated.
Willie gave him a flinty look.
Jason shrugged. "She hired me to track the dealings of her brother and his new ex-wife, all right! I figure she already had her hooks in me. Why bother with a PI?"
Across at the bookcase, Elizabeth skimmed through a book entitled The Collins Family of the 19th Century. She stopped at a page, featuring the printed photograph of a woman resembling herself. The caption underneath read Judith Collins.
"Find something interesting, Liz?" Bill asked over her shoulder.
"I think I have, Bill," Elizabeth replied.
Setting the tea kettle on the hot stove, Maggie impulsively slipped out of the kitchen, heading straight for the foyer.
Spotting the phone on the table, Maggie snatched it up and dialed the number to the Evans cottage.
She needed to hear her Pop's voice. She needed to know he was alright.
For what felt like an eternity, Maggie heard nothing but the grating ringing of an unanswered phone. She waited for another minute. She even timed it by watching the seconds tick by on the grandfather's clock.
Her Pop wasn't answering.
Groaning at the sound of the unending ringing, Maggie dejectedly hung up the phone.
She quickly tried to reassure herself that her Pop was fine. He was likely distracted by his paintings. Or wasn't home. He'd sometimes go on strolls in hopes of finding creative inspiration. Maybe he was visiting an old friend.
What mattered was that Josette's medallion would protect him.
Reluctantly, Maggie left the foyer to return to the kitchen. The kettle was likely screeching and spurting out steam by now.
While she went through the side door, Vicki stepped down into the foyer from upstairs. She was flipping through a little leather book containing phone numbers. Lots and lots of phone numbers. She'd found it on Carolyn's nightstand.
She quickly hurried to the study.
She was dismayed to find Jason McGuire was still there, whispering in a corner with Willie Loomis.
Her mother was at the bookcase, reading through a thick book. Bill Malloy's ghost closely floated beside her, reading the same book over her shoulder.
It still felt strange seeing Bill Malloy's ghost haunting around. But he had helped save Vicki from Matthew Morgan. Now it seemed he was helping her mother. But Vicki knew a helpful ghost could make all the difference. And Mr. Malloy was always loyal to her mother.
Vicki quietly approached them at the book case. "I found the number for Prof. Stokes at the collage." Vicki showed the number. Carolyn had labeled it Prof. Spooks and had doodled a little cartoon ghost beside it.
"Thank you," Elizabeth replied.
"Nice work, Miss Collins," Bill complemented.
Vicki grinned awkwardly, then stressed something to her mother. "I think we should call the collage a little later. Prof. Stokes might be giving a lecture right now."
"Yes, of course," Elizabeth agreed.
Vicki dropped her eyes on the book her mother was reading. It was a book Vicki had read multiple times. The history about the Collins family in the nineteenth century. She recognized the woman in the printed photograph wearing her mother's face.
"You're reading about Judith Collins?"
"Yes, Jason and I saw her," Elizabeth explained. "She was speaking with her grandmother on her death bed."
"Yes, Edith Collins," Vicki reflected. "Burke and I saw them, too, when the shadows took us into the past."
"You saw them along with Quentin, his new bride and –" Elizabeth hesitated – "Laura"
"That's right, one of her past – selves," said Vicki.
Elizabeth huffed. "That woman was a blight! Pure and simple."
Bill decided to shift his attention to McGuire. He was still in the corner, whispering with that young man.
"You can haul off anytime, McGuire."
The young man flinched at the sound of Bill's commanding voice. He seemed startled that something that looked an awful lot like a ghost pirate was barking at Jason. But McGuire was not the least bothered. "Not till I have my tea. Maybe the dead can forget their manners, but I'm an Irishman!"
Maggie slipped into the study, carrying a silver tea tray.
"Oh, right on time." Jason was pleased to see her.
He selected a tea cup off the tray. Maggie deftly poured a stream of stinging tea into his cup. Jason inhaled deeply, immediately scrunching up his face. The tea, if it could be called that, stank strongly of peppermint.
"Would you like some sugar or honey?" Maggie offered demurely.
Jason snorted at her.
Maggie went to serve Elizabeth.
Jason dug out a flask from one of the deep pockets of his coat. He gallessly spiked his tea with some Irish whiskey.
Millicent continued to hide herself from Joe's eyes. The young man in question and his golden-haired companion were sitting in a classroom together. Other young people were scattered about, listening to a raspy scholar. He was lecturing about Egyptian gods and their involvement in modern paranormal theory.
The scholar was giving special emphasis to Ra, whom he seemed fascinated with.
Judging by the bored look on Joe's typically stony face, he didn't share the teacher's interest. He sat patiently enough though, waiting for Prof. Stokes' lecture to finish.
She couldn't hold it against him.
Millicent herself wasn't particularly interested in the subject matter. Which was saying something since she could possibly meet them if she tried to. She quietly floated around the classroom, still keeping herself invisible.
She closely eyed the strange items that this scholar piled around the room.
Millicent quickly discovered that these items were more than mere clutter. They were brimming with magic. Well, some of them were. Most were just sort of simmering. The scholar was hoarding wands, charms, talismans, colorful dream catchers, statues of various deities... Some of them quite evil.
Maybe I can touch them.
Curious, Millicent reached her invisible hand to touch a golden feather charm hanging on the side of a worn wooden trunk. Her delicate hand streamed through both the charm and the trunk. She couldn't even feel it. Millicent pulled back her ladylike hand in shame. She repressed a groan.
"Perhaps you'd be better off reaching for your husband," Nathan's disembodied voice softly whispered to Millicent. "Before we met, your life was just as your death – dour and dull. When your eyes first peered into mine, the dullness in your life melted away. You found yourself consumed by passion. Maybe even destroyed by it. But it was only ever in my arms that you were alive.
"That spark is absent now. You must have forgotten what passion feels like. Of course, I suppose there must be something about my counterpart that attracts you. You're deluding yourself if you think you are his guardian angel. You're lonely and he's a pet. Nothing more."
Bristling at Nathan's one-sided repartee, Millicent slapped at the charm violently. The charm flew off the trunk. It noisily and conspicuously landed on the floor – interrupting the raspy professor's lecture.
The students stared down at the charm, bewildered.
Prof. Stokes peered at it through the monocle latched to his right eye. "Who knocked that down?"
A few students shook their heads. Most just looked confused.
"Excellent!" Prof. Stokes elatedly bounced over to the trunk and scooped up the little golden charm. "We have a spirit in our midst. We didn't even have to perform the customary séance!"
Everyone but Joe and Carolyn merrily chuckled.
"Must you always make a scene when we are out in public?" Nathan's whisper mocked Millicent.
"Please, it's no imposition," Prof. Stokes pleaded with the air. "We have spoken with spirits before. We find it quite agreeable."
At this, the professor motioned for his students to chime in. Donna Friedlander was especially welcoming, but everyone at least said hello.
"Please, you are welcome here. Continue to express yourself." Prof. Stokes' plump face looked so sincere.
Millicent had never been more glad to be dead and intangible. She was so embarrassed. She quickly retreated by shooting through the wall, fleeing the classroom. The mystical trinket collection adorning the walls rattled at Millicent's invisible impact.
The students, despite the class' subject matter, were startled.
"Incredible," Prof. Stokes said in childlike wonder, his eyes gleaming.
"We really had a ghost in here." A male student stared, marveling at the wall.
Prof. Stokes was transfixed for ten more minutes, waiting anxiously for something else to happen.
"Professor?" Donna spoke politely from her desk. "Maybe we should get back to your lecture?"
"Oh – yes – I suppose."
Prof. Stokes returned to his desk, placing the golden feather charm next to his cheese tray.
Joe silently wondered at the professor. That man was truly something else.
Five minutes later a bell rang, ending the interrupted and unfinished lecture. The students filed out of the classroom. Donna stayed behind to chat with Carolyn for a moment before hurrying to her next class.
Joe and Carolyn were finally alone with the professor. They gathered around his desk.
"I've been anxious to know how my enchantment fared," Prof. Stokes asked in lieu of a greeting.
"Good enough, I think," Carolyn said awkwardly. "The witches' know that Joe and I are working together, but they still think Joe is their double agent. He didn't tell them about your enchantment."
"Hmm, yes, a victory for our cause," Prof. Stokes mused. "But my enchantment is little more than a trick, I'm afraid. The witch's spell forces him to give her what she wants. My enchantment subconsciously switched what she wanted from information to flattery. I could never overpower her magically. But luckily for us, witches are quite vain and she evidently wants to be adored."
"What should we do now?" Carolyn asked.
"I'll continue reinforcing my enchantments on him," said the professor. He then locked eyes with Joe. "I'll warned you now, Joe Haskell. If she exerts even the slightest magical force on my enchantment, it will break. You must not allow even a momentary slip in her presence. My enchantment is invisible. But it can be felt. Give her any reason to look, she will find it."
"Professor." Donna showed herself at the opened doorway. "You have a telephone call. It's from up at Collinwood."
The professor's face lit up like a child who'd been invited to join a secret club in a treehouse. "You are certain it's from Collinwood?"
"Yes." Donna nodded. "It actually sounds urgent."
Prof. Stokes shot up from his chair. "Then I better investigate this urgently."
"I'll come, too, professor," said Carolyn. "If it's my family calling, this can't be good."
She followed the professor out of the classroom, with Donna tailing after them.
Joe was left alone with the professor's hoard of mystic clutter. He slipped the list that Nicholas wrote for him from his coat pocket. Joe quickly scanned over it. He personally didn't recognize most of the written items.
What's crucifix ash? He wondered. Was he really looking for a jar full of ash? Or was it a colorful name for herbs or something?
He understood sage. The professor had small tins labeled sage and other assorted herbs that Joe had always associated with cooking. Joe recognized a few of the names on the labels and stuffed them into his pockets.
He eyed the professor's trinkets and was disheartened to notice a distinct lack of upside down pentagrams. That pretty much ruled out half of the list right there.
There were a few interesting pickled specimens floating in jars, but nothing that looked like a shrunken human head. There were some statues of deities, crystals, various stones and galleries of charms and talismans. Joe even spotted a small wicker broom hanging on the wall.
Like a hippie flea market, Joe's skeptical brain quipped.
Even if everything Nicholas wanted was here, how could he find anything buried in all this mess?
Something caught his attention on the wall, high above the charms and talismans. Lying on top of two black iron nails that were driven half way into the wall, was a long gleaming stick that used to be the limb of an apple tree. The limb itself was slim and slightly bode. The bark was the color of dark honey, like stained hardwood but natural. Smooth without the need of polishing.
It was an utterly ridiculous notion, but Joe thought that whatever tree produced this stick must've been beautifully mighty. He found himself drawn to it somehow. Mesmerized.
I don't understand, he thought. Am I really so far gone that I'm becoming sentimental over a stick of all things?
Still cloaking herself in invisibility, Millicent streamed back into the classroom. She found Joe alone, gawking at a stick on the wall. Gazing closer at it, Millicent realized it wasn't a mere stick.
"Are you drawn to this wand?" Millicent whispered so lowly, she barely heard herself.
"He is likely going to steal it," Nathan's voice whispered to her. "He is under the spell of witches'."
"Oh, no," Millicent murmured, saddened.
Joe's eyes were still fixed on the wand. He reached his hand up and quickly snatched it. He promptly hid it inside his coat, tucking it under his arm.
He heard approaching footsteps. Carolyn and Prof. Stokes returned to the classroom in differing moods. Carolyn had an anxious look on her face, while Prof. Stokes wore a rather giddy expression.
"We need to head up to Collinwood, Joe," Carolyn said seriously.
"Why?" Joe questioned this sudden turn of events.
"It seems that Mrs. Stoddard has just been touched by the supernatural," Prof. Stokes relayed. "She has requested my presence up at the Great House."
Vicki reported back to Elizabeth in the study, who was still flipping through the pages of the tome about the nineteenth century Collinses. Bill Malloy's specter still hovered beside her, reading the book over her shoulder. A cup of tea sat on one of the upper shelves on the bookcase within Elizabeth's reach.
Across from them in the dark corner near the window, Jason McGuire was still chattering with Willie Loomis in fast hissing whispers.
He had a cup of tea tightly grasped in both hands.
"These miserable shadows, or whatever it was, blew you and Maggie all the way to the eighteen-hundreds, and you both saw a man lookin' like Honest Abe?" Jason didn't seem scared anymore. Just angry he couldn't understand it.
"Yeah, but it was more like the shadow splash down on us," Willie exclaimed. "Like it tried to drown us. But it didn't."
Jason gave Willie a rare, sincere searching look. "Why in blazes are you keepin' on here, man? Pack up your lass, and jump the first bus to Bangor, I say."
"I've got ties to this town," Willie muttered. "Sorta like a home."
Jason didn't answer for a while. Just wore a queer sort of expression on his face.
"Okay, Willie. Keep your secrets. But I want to know every blighted thing 'bout these shadows."
Willie nodded.
"So you say it tried to drown ya..."
"I said it felt like it," Willie cut in.
Jason grunted. "Still sounds better than being trapped in the void with Liz, I say. So this Honest Abe lad was, shall we say, emancipating this lass from her virtue?"
"Yeah, maybe." Willie nodded, unsure.
"Cheeky good fun." Jason grinned snidely. "Are you sure he didn't look like Roger?"
Vicki quietly listened to them from afar, un-intrusively observing the man who was her father.
Elizabeth lifted her eyes from the page of her volume.
"Have you contacted Prof. Stokes at the collage?" she inquired of Vicki, a hint of command in her voice.
Vicki quickly pulled her attention away from Jason.
"Huh? – oh – yes! I talked with Carolyn, too. She and Joe are there. They were at one of the professor's lectures. I guess Carolyn has become interested with them. Anyway, Carolyn and Joe are going to drive the professor up here."
"Why do you need a professor up here, Liz?" Jason asked blankly from the corner.
"Oh, Prof. Stokes specializes in the supernatural," Vicki answered him in her polite manner. "He may have the experience and insight to help us with these shadows."
"Yeah, I can see how a house of cursed nutters would turn to a learned nutter for help," Jason snipped.
Vicki was not charmed by his smug dismissal. "Considering that the shadow swept you away as well, I suppose that means it doesn't mind drunkards, either," she countered.
Jason's bemused eyebrows almost reached his hairline. "How oh how did a nice bland girl like you turn out so brassy? Devlin's corrupting you, my dear. Send him my compliments." He raised his tea cup in a glib toast.
Vicki coldly turned her back to him. Elizabeth and Bill were still doing research on Judith Collins.
"You really saw Judith Collins in the past?" Vicki asked.
"Yes, and Edith Collins," Elizabeth replied.
"Isn't she one of your great-great-grandmothers?" Vicki asked.
"I believe so." Elizabeth returned her eyes back to the book. "Judith became head of the family after Edith died."
"Yes, I know," Vicki said enthused.
"How novel, since she looked like ya," Jason remarked from the corner.
"Why are you still here, McGuire?" Bill bit off. "Bob can drizzle some tea on your whiskey over at the Blue Whale"
Before Jason could retort, Maggie hurried into the study grabbing everyone's attention. "Willie, that head caterer guy is looking for you."
"Jason – out!" Elizabeth ordered icily. "Too many people have seen you here already. I don't want Roger to hear of it."
"Right now that's the least of my cares," Jason muttered. "I'm not afraid of your brother."
At this, Jason subconsciously shoot a glance at Malloy. "But I'll go anyway. I've had enough of this place."
He came up to Maggie and handed her the empty tea cup reeking of whiskey. "Thanks, lass."
He ventured to the window and unlatched it open.
"Liz, I'll never forget our time together. That's no complement, mind."
"Get outta here!" Bill growled.
Jason swung his left leg out of the window and hoisted the rest of his body over the windowsill.
Vicki watched him go – her heart feeling sore. Jason McGuire – of all the men in the world – conceived her with her mother.
How could that be?
On the thickly snowed grounds of the Collins estate, Fenn-Gibbon trudged through, leaving a trail of churned and trampled snow. He was pleased with his painter's progress on Quentin's portrait. It would be finished on schedule.
Not too much longer now.
Fenn-Gibbon longed for the portrait's completion. For Quentin's memory to rise.
For now, Fenn-Gibbon would make due taking stock of the man's long lost blood kin.
In the West Wing at Collinwood, Beth, as always, guarded the wall to Quentin's cell. His music dully haunted the dusty corridor.
Beth worried that her prisoner was growing restless. She herself felt restless as she leaned her back against the wall. Not that it could support her non-existent weight. But given the state of the manor, she felt entitled to a little self indulgence.
Beth knew Quentin hadn't made any serious progress in bewitching the little girl Amy. But Quentin coming into contact with the outside world, no matter how briefly, represented a huge failure on her part.
Beth was aware that David finding the telephone was no coincidence. She didn't know how Quentin arranged it. She supposed that scared her more than anything.
Little Sarah had sworn to watch over David and Beth would make sure Quentin was contained here. But now that Amy had gotten a hold of the same telephone, nothing felt like it had truly been enough. What was the point of seven decades of sacrifice if it were the children she could protect the least?
Sarah now watched over Amy exclusively. Spreading their forces ever thinner. Supposedly, Quentin only spoke to Amy once. That was enough. It was brief however. Hardly the time Quentin needed to spellbind the girl. I hope.
"Beth." Tim Shaw's ghost materialized a respectful distance down the corridor. He wore an urgent look on his face.
Beth floated up to him. "What is it, Tim?"
"Count Petofi is on the grounds," Tim whispered, probably hoping Quentin wouldn't hear.
"How close is he to the house?" Beth pressed anxiously.
"I don't know if he's coming to the house," said Tim. "He seems to be wandering..."
"It iz time for me to obzerve zee pig more clozely."
Magda surprised them with her materializing presence.
"Zhow me to him, Tim."
At a certain rustic cabin on the Collins grounds, the ghost of Rachel Drummond sat by the hearth, which warmed the cabin with its bright orange flames.
Not that Rachel needed the warmth. But sitting by a fire brought back some long ago memories from when she was a child. She and Tim used to secretly chat by a warm fire at Worthington Hall, plotting their escape. Plans that never came to fruition.
The hearth however was not what drew her to this isolated cabin.
Sitting on the couch was a red-haired little girl wearing a seasonal green dress. The girl resembled a charge Rachel used to care for when she was a governess working at Collinwood. Nora Collins.
Rachel continued to be amazed by how many of these present day villagers resembled the people she knew in her day.
This little girl – Amy was her name – was transfixed on the old telephone sitting on the coffee table.
Rachel recognized the cursed thing. It used to be in the foyer at Collinwood. Rachel had been informed that Quentin was using it to bewitched the children. The girl had unfortunately came into possession of the telephone.
Tim and Magda materialized beside Rachel, Tim sitting at her left, Magda her right.
"Hello," Rachel greeted them brightly.
"Hello, child," Magda replied.
"Have there been any problems?" Tim asked Rachel. "Perhaps with the telephone?"
"No," Rachel answered politely. "Has anything happened at the Main House?"
"Yes, but frankly we don't have time," Tim said darkly. "Petofi is heading this way."
On the couch, Amy was oblivious to the presences of the three ghosts. She couldn't see or hear them.
It didn't matter. Her focus was solely on the antique phone.
That Quentin guy sounded bad, she thought to herself. That weird girl Sarah even warned me about him. He must have messed up David pretty badly. I have to get rid of this phone before he messes me up, too.
But no matter how sensible that idea was, the young girl couldn't work up any enthusiasm for it.
Tom interrupted her train of thought by stepping out of the bathroom.
"Hey, kiddo," he said affectionately, wearing jeans and a green buttoned shirt. "Are you playing with your phone?"
Tom was still weirded out by it, but had decided that broken down phones were relatively harmless as far as makeshift toys went.
Amy glanced up at him, a little startled. She hadn't expected her big brother to bring up the phone.
"Oh, um, no. I'm not in the mood to play with it."
"Well, then, would you like to build a snowman?" Tom eagerly suggested.
Amy smiled up happily. "Oh, yes, I'd love too!"
Tom playfully rustled the top of her head. "We'll build more than one. We'll build a family of them."
"That man lookz like you, Tim Zhaw," Magda remarked at the fireplace. "Only, he don't have your zideburns."
"A strange occurrence you will see repeated here quite often," said Tim. "You may have noticed how the current Collins family bare the likenesses of many of the Collinses we knew. The phenomenon is the same with the villagers."
"You might find a villager that looks like you, Magda," Rachel teased.
Magda snorted. "Don't be zilly, child." She sharply jabbed her thumb into her own chest. "Thiz village couldn't even handle one of me!"
Across from them, Amy slid off the couch.
"I'll grab your coat," said Tom.
As he moved to the coat rack, Amy stared down at the phone.
I have to get rid of it today. If I keep it any longer, Quentin will call again.
After Tom quickly slipped on his coat, a knock came from the door.
The three ghosts shot their sharp eyes at the door, while Tom and Amy merely stared at it curiously.
"I wonder who that could be." Tom came up to the door casually.
"Maybe it's Chris!" Amy said hopefully.
Tom answered the door. When he saw how the visitor looked, he could only hope his facial expression didn't come across as insulting or comical. The visitor was a truly bizarre looking man. A portly figure with wild, bushy hair. He wore owlish spectacles that enlarged his pupils, like he was peering through a magnifying glass.
He wore an old, shabby black coat with an equally shabby suit and a crooked black tie.
The rumpled pile of a man grinned at Tom sheepishly. "Pardon me, sir. I detest being a nuisance, but do you happen to possess a telephone?"
"Why, yes," Tom replied, a little put off by the man's strange lisp. He allowed him in and shut the door regardless. "Having car trouble?"
"Oh, no, I would never touch one of those obnoxious contraptions," the old man said dismissively. "I recently became reacquainted with the Collins family. I happened to be nearby." His meaty lips pulled down in a theatrical frown. "It just occurred to me that I need to contact an old friend of mine. It is most urgent. The Main House is still a bit of a stroll, and I happened upon your cabin quite by accident."
What a funny man, Amy thought as she gazed at him from the couch.
"You're acquainted with the Collinses?" Tom asked.
"Of course, but I've been a poor friend in return," the strange man replied. "I've been out of touch far too long."
Tom was no expert on Collinses. But it was hard to believe that this hobo was friends with any of them. Tom almost voiced that opinion, but it really wasn't his business and he was in no position to insult anyone.
Fenn-Gibbon quirked a smile, sensing the handyman's inner conflict. Familiar presences floated to prominence in his mind. He sensed Tim Shaw, his lovely female companion – and another. A woman who carried the unmistakable stench of gypsy.
Magda Rokosi!
He realized that his host was looking at him expectantly.
"Oh, where are my manners! My name is Victor Fenn-Gibbon. Who might you be?"
"I'm Tom Jennings."
Fenn-Gibbon dropped his owlish eyes on the little red-head girl. "Hello."
"Hi," the girl returned shyly.
Fenn-Gibbon returned his attention to Tom. "Are you and your daughter by chance related to the Collinses? If you don't mind my asking?"
"No, I'm just their handyman," Tom replied. "And Amy is my sister."
"If we were Collinses, we'll be living up at the Big House," Amy told the old man frankly. "Not down in this shack."
"Oh, I see." Fenn-Gibbon chuckled.
He didn't particularly like them, but children could be so amusing.
He spotted the antique telephone sitting on the coffee table. "Oh, charming."
He moved to the coffee table faster than Tom would have thought possible.
"Oh, what discerning tastes you have," Fenn-Gibbon complemented. "I expected you to have one of those garish, modern numbers."
With a chuckle, Tom indicated the modern, functional and garishly green colored phone sitting on an end table next to the couch. With a slouch, Fenn-Gibbon ventured to it, picking it up with his functioning hand. He leaned the phone between his ear and his shoulder, using his good hand to dial the rotary numbers.
Tom realized that Fenn-Gibbon kept his right hand hidden in his coat pocket. He wondered if it was disfigured.
Magda watched the old man with fierce, narrowed eyes, reading him closely. She had the distinct impression that Petofi had an interest with this shack's living inhabitants. He was pouring it on thick as they say.
Magda knew who this man and girl were. Or, more specifically, who they were descended from. Fenn-Gibbon knew at least as much as her, no doubt, and devised this contrived meeting.
He spoke into the phone's mouth piece. "Hello, Sam. Sorry for interrupting." (Of course Sam hadn't answered!) "I was hoping for confirmation on your progress with the portrait – " (Shrill ringing was his only reply) - "Excellent!" He flashed a smile at Tom. "I will arrive shortly. Goodbye."
He set the phone back in its cradle, looking at Tom apologetically. "I'm sorry for this intrusion."
"It was no trouble." Tom shrugged. "I'm glad things are – working out – for you," he finished lamely.
"Yes, it's falling into place," Fenn-Gibbon said pleased. "Perhaps – since we're both connected with the Collinses – we may meet again."
"Yes, maybe." Tom kept his voice steady.
He found this Fenn-Gibbon to be disconcertingly cryptic. From his look to his somewhat handicapped speech patterns.
"Until then, farewell."
Sneaking a quick arrogant smirk at the fireplace, Fenn-Gibbon made his leave. Once he was gone, Tom and Amy were left perplexed.
"He's a funny old man," Amy commented.
"He's something," Tom concurred, his eyes on the door.
He snapped his attention back to his little sister. "Come on. Let's build that snowman family."
"Yea!" Amy excitedly hopped off the couch.
Before she could even reach the coat rack, the phone noisily rang. It caused her to jolt.
"Hmm." Tom stared at the phone on the end table. "Might be Chris."
Tom scoop up the phone.
"Hello? – Hello?"
Tom took the receiver off his ear and stared at the phone puzzled. He placed the receiver back to his ear again.
"Hello?"
After a few seconds he returned the phone back to its cradle.
"No one's there."
Amy darted her nervous eyes to the antique phone on the coffee table. What if the ringing came from that phone? Had that creepy man Quentin tried to call her?
With his coat zipped up, Tom properly shrugged Amy into her blue bulky coat and zipped it up. He covered her head with the coat's hood.
"All right, let's go."
As they went out the door, Amy quickly threw a glance at the antique phone. Once the girl and her big brother were out the door, the three ghosts sitting in front of the fireplace were left alone. The fire was dying down.
"Zee telephone on zee coffee table waz the one that rung," Magda stated. "But it' iz connected only to Quentin."
"He's been using that telephone, trying to possess the Collins heir David," Rachel informed the gypsy. "He now seems to be using it to possess the girl."
"What can be done about it?" Tim asked gravely.
Magda stared at the telephone with steely eyes.
Vicki patiently waited in the foyer in Collinwood, tapping her fingers on the table to distract herself both from boredom and her mounting nerves.
She had called Burke, interrupting one of his business ventures. He'd called the meeting off early, leaving Vicki feeling terrible because he insisted on rushing over.
Four 'o clock loudly struck on the old grandfather's clock.
A knock came from the front doors. Vicki didn't know whether to expect her fiance or Carolyn's ghost professor.
Vicki hurried to the doors and flung them open – finding Burke at the doorstep. He wore a dark suit with a black winter coat.
He tightly embraced his fiancee. "Darling, are you alright?"
"Yes, dear." Vicki melted in his arms. "I told you on the phone that it was Mother this time."
Burke tenderly cupped her face with his hands. "Yes, I know darling. It's just on the drive up here, I was thinking in circles. I wound up convincing myself that the shadows took you into the past again. And maybe you couldn't get out this time."
"I'm still here." Vicki gazed into his eyes.
Burke leaned in and kissed her deeply. Vicki was so absorbed, she didn't know (or care) how long they kissed. Somehow, their lips parted. Burke tenderly caressed Vicki's soft, warm cheek with his finger.
With circulation slowly flowing back into her brain, Vicki said, "Come inside, it's cold."
Burke stepped in and Vicki shut the doors.
"Do Willie and Maggie know what happened to Liz?" Burke asked.
"Yes, they actually saw it happen," Vicki replied.
"Like how I saw them come out of the shadows a few days ago?" Burke asked.
"Yes, but they actually saw the shadow carry her off. They called out to her. That seemed to have helped. I'm so grateful for Willie and Maggie."
Even though she hated to withhold information from him, Vicki left Jason McGuire and Bill Malloy's ghost out of the equation.
Vicki feared that Burke would go ballistic if he found out that Jason was back in the house. Burke potentially learning of her relation to Jason was also deeply unsettling to Vicki. In blunt honesty, Vicki did not want the identity of her biological father to ever be known.
Hopefully in short order, Jason would leave Collinsport and never return.
As for Bill Malloy's ghost, Vicki figured that Burke could only handle the constant hauntings and the mansion's overall strangeness in small doses. Since they both knew ghosts were real, Burke may be allowed to learn of Bill's existence in the house. If Mother gave her consent.
Burke did know Bill pretty well before he died.
Vicki found her thoughts returning to her mother's relationship with Bill's ghost. Ironically, the sight of Bill holding her mother in his translucent arms haunted Vicki. That image was so vivid.
Before she could further ponder this, Burke engulfed her into another warm hug.
"We'll have to compare notes with Willie and Maggie later."
Another knock came from the doors.
"Oh, that must be Prof. Stokes." Vicki untangled herself from Burke's arms.
"Prof. Stokes?" Burke creased his brows. "You mean from the collage?"
"Yes, he wants to inspect the house." Vicki answered the doors.
Sure enough, Vicki found the professor, draped in a long formal brown coat with a matching fedora.
Carolyn and Joe accompanied him.
"Hello, Professor," Vicki said pleasantly. "I'm glad you could make it."
"I am humbled by this invitation, Miss Winters," said Prof. Stokes. "I've wanted to tour this magnificent edifice for so long. If only the circumstances of my invitation were less dire."
"Please, come in," Vicki invited.
"Thank you." Prof. Stokes stepped inside the historic home.
At the doorway, Vicki laid her attention to Joe and Carolyn.
"Hello, Joe."
"Hello, Vicki," Joe replied with a distracted nod.
"It's nice seeing you." Vicki allowed him in.
She and Carolyn shared a look. Joe looked pale and his eyes were blank with dark rings under them. Vicki could see why Carolyn was so concerned for him.
Once Carolyn stepped in, Vicki shut the doors.
Prof. Stokes and Burke regarded each other in the foyer.
"Professor, please meet my fiance, Burke Devlin," Vicki introduced.
The two men stoically shook hands, taking each other's measure.
"It's nice to meet you, Professor," Burke said formally. "Vicki told me you've made a name for yourself over at the collage."
"I'm also pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Devlin," Prof. Stokes replied. "Your reputation proceeds you as well."
He shifted his attention to Vicki. "May I ask where is the lady of the house?"
"In the study. I'll show you to her."
Vicki took the group through the winding, paneled corridor that lead to the heavily paneled door that opened into the study.
Vicki lightly rapped on the door.
"Come in," Elizabeth called from inside.
Vicki opened the door. She found Elizabeth alone.
Bill Malloy's ghost was nowhere to be seen. Vicki figured he might be making himself invisible. But she truly didn't know. Her nerves were so raked up, she couldn't tell if she caught the ghost's briny scent or not.
Her mother's hair still fell loose around her shoulders.
"This is the Prof. Stokes," Vicki introduced him to Elizabeth from the doorway.
"It's nice to meet you, Professor," Elizabeth spoke up slightly to be heard across the room.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Stoddard," Prof. Stokes said flattered.
He stepped inside the study, admiring the intricate dark woodwork of the bookcases and desk. But he suppressed his giddiness. Now was hardly the appropriate time to indulge in his passion for old world furnishings.
He approached his hostess.
"My name is Prof. Timothy Eliot Stokes." He offered his hand. A bold gesture when dealing with a recluse. But Prof. Stokes had heard that the secretive matriarch was hardly timid when it came to business or her family.
"Elizabeth Collins Stoddard." She shook his hand.
Vicki closed the door once Burke, Carolyn and Joe filed in.
"Mrs. Stoddard, I've been informed that you experienced something truly fantastical today," began Prof. Stokes.
"Yes, I was abducted by shadows which I believe took me to the past," Elizabeth replied.
"Huh?" Joe was shocked to hear this. "Are you alright, Mrs. Stoddard?"
"Yes, I am, Joe. Thank you." Elizabeth seemed surprised that Joe was even here.
"Have you been able to determine how far into the past the shadows took you?" Prof. Stokes inquired.
"I believe 1897," Elizabeth filled in. "I saw my great-great-grandmother Edith Collins. She was dying at the time and 1897 was the year she passed."
"Remarkable." Prof. Stokes was awe-struck. As much by the matriarch's presence of mind as by the facts she relayed. "Now, to my understanding, you're not the only one to have this befall them?"
"That's right. The same thing happened to me and Vicki three days ago," Burke chimed in helpfully.
"And Maggie Evans and Willie Loomis," Vicki added.
Joe's tired eyes widened at this.
"Did all of these episodes take place in this manor?" Prof. Stokes questioned.
"Yes." Vicki nodded. "But in different rooms."
"Where are Maggie Evans and Willie Loomis?" Prof. Stokes inquired.
"Oh, they work here," Vicki replied.
"Could you please send for them?" Prof. Stokes requested. "Any variation in their experience could prove vital."
Elizabeth discreetly nodded at Vicki.
"All right." Vicki left the study, closing the door as she went.
Joe slid his eyes to Carolyn. "Have you ever been attacked by these shadows?" Curiously, knowing that this was not the work of two dark witches huddled in the forest, made him all the more worried.
"Me? No." Carolyn whispered to him. "At least not yet. I have heard about these attacks. To be honest, I've been so wrapped up in our own problems it never really sunk in."
"This is crazy," Joe murmured.
Deep down though, he wanted nothing more than to show the spoils of his efforts to Cassandra. And then warn her that there was more magic in Collinwood than just her own.
For eighteen minutes, Prof. Stokes engaged in idle chit-chat with Elizabeth and Burke. He just couldn't fight off his love for antique furniture any longer.
"Mrs. Stoddard, your desk is simply exquisite," he gushed randomly, during a lull in the conversation.
He closely examined it, running his fingers across the polished dark wood. He bent down to his knees, inspecting the desk's spindled legs.
"A Victorian piece. I suspect this was crafted locally in the 1870s."
"You think so?" Elizabeth was quietly impressed. Her desk was indeed one of a kind. It had been commissioned by her great-great-grandfather in 1868.
"Positive." Prof. Stokes got back up to his feet.
The study's door opened. Vicki had retrieved Willie Loomis and Maggie Evans.
Seeing that Joe and Carolyn were present, the couple grew more uncomfortable as Vicki closed the door.
"This is Prof. Stokes," Vicki informed the sought after pair. "Professor, this my friend Maggie Evans and our contractor Willie Loomis."
"How do you do." Prof. Stokes crossed over to them and offered his hand to shake.
"Hello," said Maggie.
After the professor shook her and Willie's hands, Maggie ventured, "Vicki says you teach at the collage here."
"Yes," confirmed the professor. "I teach a course on paranormal phenomenon. But my calling has always been the pursuit of understanding and the spread of knowledge. As you could imagine, time traveling specters piqued my interest."
Maggie snuck a glance at Joe and Carolyn. Joe had a lost, haunted look in his eyes. Carolyn just looked typically haughty.
Willie stood next to Maggie, his arms fidgeting at his sides, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Joe and Carolyn. He didn't like where this was going. He wasn't sure that this nosy professor wouldn't end up being a problem for Barnabas later on.
"Now," Prof. Stokes addressed everyone in the study. "Who was the first to encounter this shadow?"
"Burke and I," Vicki spoke up, clasping her fiance's hand beside her.
"You two together?" Prof. Stokes pressed.
"That's right." Burke nodded.
"Where did it happened?" Prof. Stokes asked.
"In the lounge room in the West Wing," Vicki replied.
"What happened exactly?"
"Well – Vicki and I were talking in the lounge," Burke recounted. "We're renovating the West Wing. While we were talking, these strange shadows surrounded us."
"They were swirling around," Vicki added, descriptively waving her hands. "They surrounded us in darkness. When they pulled away, we found ourselves in the late eighteen-hundreds."
"What location did the shadow transport you?" Prof. Stokes asked.
"We were still in the lounge in the West Wing," Vicki replied. "We saw Edith and Judith Collins. Only, they couldn't see or hear us. Judith was serving Edith soup and saltines. Laura Collins came into the lounge, and Edith and Judith had a disagreement with her over her parenting methods. Laura was married to Edward Collins."
Vicki felt awkward discussing a personal family moment with a stranger. But she knew it could be important, and didn't want to impede the professor.
"I have read about Laura Collins," said Prof. Stokes. "An interesting woman."
Vicki continued. "Quentin Collins arrived with his new bride, a young woman named Jenny. Edith and Judith were -" Vicki seemed lost for words - "unwelcoming. I don't think they approved of the marriage."
"She was from the opposite end of society," Prof. Stokes deduced.
"I believe so," said Vicki. "I couldn't find anything on her in the Collins family history. All I found out about Quentin was that he moved to Paris towards the end of 1897."
"Were you able to determine the date of Quentin and Jenny's marriage?" Prof. Stokes questioned.
Vicki looked surprised, but quickly clarified, "Sorry, but I couldn't find any documentation on the ceremony."
"I see," said the professor. "How did you and your fiance return to the present?"
"Well," said Burke. "The shadows surrounded us again, and we were lost in darkness. We both heard this eerie music that sounded something like it was coming out of one of those old gramophones. We also heard a man laughing, really more of a deranged cackle, I guess. We thought that was it for us..." Burke trailed off.
"Josette Collins' ghost helped us get back," Vicki finished for him.
"Josette Collins' ghost?" Prof. Stokes raised a brow. "You mean the Josette Collins?"
"Yes, her ghost has helped me before," said Vicki.
"Fascinating." Prof. Stokes suppressed his excitement and went on with his professional, yet whimsical, questioning. "How exactly did Josette help you and Mr. Devlin return to the present?"
"We followed the tingling melody from her music box," Vicki explained. "That drowned out the sinister music and pulled us out of the shadows."
"Her music box?" Prof. Stokes looked confounded.
"Yes, a dear friend of mine gifted me with a music box that once belonged to her," said Vicki.
"I see," was all the professor said.
"Not long after Vicki and I had that experience, the shadow targeted Willie and Maggie," Burke informed.
The professor shifted his attention to Willie and Maggie, who stared at the scholar nervously. But the professor's eyes were not the only ones that were peering at them with intense curiosity.
Joe and Carolyn were eager to listen to their strange little tale. Carolyn in particular had a narrow look in her sharp eyes. That made Willie feel uneasy. What were with those spiteful glances?
Joe's eyes, however, were the opposite of Carolyn's. They looked hollow – tormented.
"How long ago did the shadow attack you?" Prof. Stokes started his questioning.
"Two days ago," Maggie replied.
"Not long after the incident with Miss Winters and Mr. Devlin?" Prof. Stokes wanted to verify.
Willie and Maggie nodded.
"Where was the attack?"
"In the foyer," Maggie answered.
"It dropped from the ceiling," Willie explained. "It splashed down on us. It looked somethin' like oily water."
"So, its attack method was different from when it attacked Miss Winters and Mr. Devlin?" asked Prof. Stokes.
"I suppose so," Maggie said unsure.
"It sounds like it," Vicki offered. "The shadows didn't act like water when it attacked Burke and I."
"You said it swirled around you," Prof. Stokes said thoughtfully.
"Yes." Vicki nodded. "They acted more like curtains swaying in the breeze."
Prof. Stokes returned his attention to Willie and Maggie. "What happened next?"
"Me and Willie were separated by the inky blackness," Maggie recalled. "But when the shadows drifted away, we were together again."
"You were unable to see or feel each other for a time?" Prof. Stokes sought to clarify.
"It tore us apart," Willie spoke with some heat for the first time.
"Where did you find yourselves?" Prof. Stoke inquired.
"In the foyer where we started," Maggie replied.
"Did you two see anyone from the past?" Prof. Stokes asked.
Maggie hesitated. Prof. Stokes seemed like someone who was fit to solve this kind of mystery. But when it came to strange, otherworldly monsters like this, Maggie had grown paranoid and secretive.
But a baffling reassurance occurred to her that made all the difference. This had nothing to do with Barnabas.
She could confined openly about this specific experience.
"We saw a man named Quentin Collins talking to a chambermaid named Beth."
"Did they see you two?" Prof. Stokes asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, they didn' see or hear us," Willie replied.
"What did they speak about?" Prof. Stokes asked.
"Quentin was flirting with Beth," Maggie reported. "He invited her to listen to his music in the drawing room. Beth was hesitant. I guess she was his wife's servant."
"Jenny, the woman Miss Winters and Mr. Devlin saw," Prof. Stokes surmised. "I think it's safe to assume that the attacks are connected to that time period."
"Must be," Maggie considered. "Beth was hesitant to spend time with Quentin. His interest was clearly not appropriate. But she was obviously attracted to him.
"Then the shadows surrounded us again. We held on to each other tightly so we wouldn't be separated again."
"How did you two get back?" Prof. Stokes asked.
Maggie heaved a sigh. "Josette's ghost helped us."
"Really? Josette's ghost?" Prof. Stokes was intrigued.
There seemed to be a emerging continuity between these attacks.
"Yes, like with Vicki and Burke, Quentin's music and Josette's music were competing against each other. But Josette got us out of the shadows," Maggie finished.
"Remarkable," the professor commented.
Willie and Maggie slid a glance to Joe and Carolyn, who only stared at them silently.
Prof. Stokes shifted his questioning to the mistress of the house.
"And you, Mrs. Stoddard. You're the latest victim of the shadow?"
"Yes, it happened today in this room," Elizabeth said helpfully.
"Did the shadow use a unique method to transport you to the past?"
"It swept me away like a gale," Elizabeth answered.
"Fascinating," Prof. Stokes marveled. "The end result of the attacks are the same. But the exact process differs between victims. The question is are these differences a matter of perception or perhaps escalation? But getting back to the matter at hand, you believe the shadows took you to the year 1897?"
"Yes. I saw my great-great-grandmother Edith Collins and Judith Collins. They were in my room."
"Your room?" Prof. Stokes was puzzled.
"What's wrong professor?" Carolyn asked.
"The shadow's pattern has been precise until now," Prof. Stokes muttered to himself, touching his flabby chin, thinking deeply. "Miss Winters and Mr. Devlin were in the West Wing lounge during their attack. The shadow showed them the past, but only in that room. Miss Evans and Mr. Loomis were in the foyer. The shadow showed them a illicit rendezvous, again, in that exact same room.
"Mrs. Stoddard was in here, but the shadow showed her a different room in the past?
"It's possible, but how can I be certain? From the descriptions of the attacks it seems the shadow is growing more powerful. Or... more focused."
He realized everyone was staring blankly at him while he was rambling.
"Oh, I do apologize. Please continue Mrs. Stoddard."
"Edith Collins was lying on her death bed," Elizabeth resumed.
"And Judith was with her, correct?" Prof. Stokes asked.
"Yes. Edith fretted with her that Quentin and another relative, Edward, would not return to Collinwood in time to say goodbye to her. She wanted to tell Judith something important. But she fell ill and was unable to finish telling her. As she violently coughed into her handkerchief, the shadow trapped me in its dark storm again. I was lost and didn't know how to get back."
"Did Edith and Judith see or hear you?"
"No."
"Did Josette Collins help you return to the present?" Prof Stokes queried.
"No, but a ghost of an old friend did," said Elizabeth. "And Maggie and Willie. I haven't thanked you both for helping me. You two have my gratitude."
"I-It's awright, Mrs. Stoddard," Willie said timidly. "We got sucked in the shadow. We've been there."
"Who was the ghost that helped you?" Carolyn cut in icily.
Elizabeth sighed softly. She supposed there was no point in withholding it from Carolyn. Vicki already knew. As did Maggie, and even Willie Loomis of all people! Besides, Carolyn adored him when he was alive.
"Bill Malloy."
"Bill – " Carolyn stammered emotionally. "Really? Old man whiskers?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said softly.
"Really? Bill Malloy?" Burke was stunned.
"That's incredible Mrs. Stoddard," Joe said sincerely. The mention of his former boss clearing the fog from his mind, long enough for him to express his admiration. "I used to work for Bill Malloy. He – he was a good man. I know his ghost would help you out."
"Yes," agreed Elizabeth.
"The departed spirit of a close friend, along with the encouragement of Miss Evans and Mr. Loomis, helped you return to the present?" Prof. Stokes asked.
"Yes," Elizabeth replied.
"Incredible," said Prof. Stokes. "Each of your experiences are exactly that. Incredible. Mrs. Stoddard, your episode is especially interesting. Besides the room change and your apparent transportation, the shadow also attacked you alone."
"Why is that interesting?" Elizabeth queried.
"These – for lack of a better word – attacks – have followed a distinct pattern. That is, until it targeted you," Prof. Stokes explained. "The shadow takes a pair of victims to a moment in that room's past. It pulls the victims to a specific time period. But geographically, you haven't moved an inch. Please forgive my lack of discretion, but it also seemed to favor romantically entangled couples. You are in many ways the exception."
Elizabeth lightly chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted to give the professor accurate information. But she didn't want to come forward with the degrading fact that she regularly shared her company with Jason McGuire.
She needed to invent something.
"I wasn't alone."
"You weren't?" Prof. Stokes raised a brow.
"One of my brother's caterers was unfortunate enough to be present when it happened," Elizabeth lied. "The poor man. He ran out of here vowing never to return."
Willie, Maggie and Vicki stared at the matriarch wordlessly.
"I see," said Prof. Stokes. "Do you know what it was that Edith Collins tried to relay to Judith Collins?"
"No." Elizabeth shook her head.
"There's a curious mystery surrounding this shadow," said Prof. Stokes. "And it has an obvious fixation on the Collins family in the late nineteenth century. Perhaps this shadow is conducting its own investigation. With your permission, Mrs. Soddard, I'd like to investigate as well."
"Of course," Elizabeth allowed. "But how can you investigate shadows?"
"Are you going to try and goad the shadow into attacking you?" Carolyn was frazzled.
"That would be most fortunate," Prof Stokes said happily. "But I believe I should start off my investigation by doing something much more practical. I would like to perform a séance."
Rest In Peace Denise Nickerson And John Karlen. You Were Both Loved And Enjoyed. And John, Thank You For Creating Such A Wonderful Character! Willie Will Always Inspire Me!
Next Chapter : Mystic Connections