Synopsis: Ms. Hoffman is back with a vengeance and dropping bombs all over the place.
After his visit to Collinwood, Willie finished his other errands and headed back to the Old House. It was after dark and he hoped Barnabas wouldn't be too pissed, because the vampire preferred to rise in a candlelit room with his faithful manservant in attendance, not to a dark, empty house. He lumbered in the back entrance, hauling an awkward armful of instant logs. The servant noticed a glow emanating from the parlor, so he headed there first.
"Sorry I'm late, got stuck in the snow goin' uphill," he yelled from the hallway. "So, what happened? I thought you were gonna kill Ms. Ho—?" Willie stopped midsentence and froze in the doorway, his mouth hung open. The vampire stood by the mantle, and Ms. Hoffman sat in the high back chair. They both stared at him.
"I-I mean call Miss, ya know, the—oh, never mind." Willie hastily crossed the room and unloaded his burden by the fireplace, stacking them neatly, keeping his head down and eyes averted. An uneasy silence hung in the air.
Oh, shit, somebody say something.
At length, he guiltily looked up at Barnabas, who seemed unusually preoccupied with winding the mantle clock. As the gears on the timepiece clicked, so did the ones in Ms. Hoffman's head as she stared down the restless pair with a calculating eye.
"Leave that and sit down, Willie," his boss said abruptly. "There have been developments." He wandered across the room to the window.
The servant didn't know if he meant to sit in the other chair. Probably not, that was the master's favorite. To be on the safe side, he plopped down on the floor in his usual spot, by the warm fire. Willie snuck a peek at their female companion, who returned his gaze.
"I'm sorry," the young man blurted.
"For what?"
"I-I dunno. Whatever I did." His leg was bouncing, as he wracked his brain to think what could have happened. He often messed things up without realizing it, like when he broke the vampire's beloved book.
"This is not about you, unless you have done something of which I am unaware." the master turned to him. "Have you?"
The servant quickly shook his head no. Other than sayin' somethin' really stupid just now.
"That was of no consequence," Barnabas responded aloud and he again began to pace the room. "Because I did, in fact, attempt to do away with Dr. Hoffman last evening." The woman took note of their unspoken communication.
Willie was confused. When the monster wanted to kill something, it was usually dead afterwards. However, the next question out of his mouth was to the lady. "You're a doctor?"
"Yes," she answered lightly, abruptly picking up the conversation as if nothing was amiss. "And I'm not a dermatologist, but I brought this for you." She reached for her handbag and handed him a small tube. "Rub that on the broken skin on your hand before it gets any worse."
"Doctor Hoffman," Barnabas continued, slightly irritated at the digression, "was, as we suspected, not only fully aware of our situation, but also of my intentions to silence her—"
"So I laid a trap for him," the doctor interrupted.
"That was hardly a trap," the vampire argued. "You rumpled your bedcovers and hid in the closet. I still could have disposed of you, I merely chose not to—as I was interested in what you had to say."
"You see, I have written letters," the woman explained for Willie's benefit, "to an undisclosed number of people with instructions that they be opened in the event of my death—or disappearance. These letters explain in detail who and what your employer is, and the roles you both played in the attacks of several people, including Eugene Greenwald and Maggie Evans." Again, Willie's jaw dropped. "Under the circumstances, Mr. Collins was very interested in what I had to say."
The young man attempted to process this windfall of information. "How did ya find out?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
"I am a psychiatrist and the resident physician at Wyndcliff Sanitarium. One of your casualties was my nephew, whom I had transferred from Eastern Medical to my facility, because he had been raving that his illness was caused by a vampire bite."
"You're talkin' about Gene? The g-guy in the Bangor hospital? Is he okay?"
The doctor smiled sardonically. "Thank you for your concern. Mentally, he is suffering a good deal of post trauma. Physically, he has a blood infection we have been unable to identify. I've been treating him for that, and it seems to have gone into remission."
"We're quite relieved," Barnabas said from across the room.
"I'm sure it would have been more convenient for you had he succumbed," the doctor corrected. "During our sessions, he told me an incredible story of being the guest of a vampire in Collinsport. The boy very accurately described you—you too, Igor—and this house."
This is the result of your brilliant scheme, Barnabas shot a look at his idiot subordinate. The Vampire Club, indeed. As with most things, this mishap was ultimately Willie's fault.
"What's g-gonna happen now?" the he asked tentatively, hugging his knees.
"Nothing," the woman said simply. "I hypnotized him and erased all memory of the event." Barnabas and Willie exchanged glances. "The same as I did to Maggie Evans." Both heads shot in her direction.
"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Dr. Hoffman smiled with the confidence of a poker shark who had just doubled the pot. "No, she is not dead as the newspapers reported; that was a false statement issued by police to fool her kidnappers. She is, in fact, my patient at Wyndcliff."
Willie buried his face in his folded arms. Maggie was alive. He audibly heaved a halting breath and mustered all his strength not to make more noise than that.
Control yourself.
Barnabas looked away, pondering. "I see," he said at last. "Am I to believe you mesmerized this young man and Miss Evans so they have no recollection of their encounters with us?"
"Yes, Bar—may I call you Barnabas?" She smiled cordially. "You may call me Julia."
But the vampire was unconvinced of her good will. "Precisely why did you go to such lengths to conceal my identity? You don't know me. What you did must certainly be considered unethical within the medical community and illegal within the law. Yet, you risked your career in doing it and your life in coming here. My dear woman, I have to wonder why."
Julia gripped the arm of her chair. "Because I had to meet you, to see for myself if it was true," she hissed. "While trying to identify the mutant cells in Eugene's blood, I discovered what will be the most fascinating challenge of my career. Then imagine my excitement when a traumatized Maggie Evans appeared on my doorstep, and one of those abnormalities had been replicated in her blood sample."
The vampire nodded thoughtfully, attempting a countenance of comprehension with his best poker face. It was an expression Willie had seen many times before when 20th century lingo left the old man in the dust. The doctor upped the ante, called his bluff and laid down her hand.
"Don't you see?" she continued impatiently. "Thanks to my research in genetic engineering, both patients made complete recoveries. Now, if I can successfully analyze your blood structure, and alter it, I may be able to cure you. We will make medical history."
Willie lifted his head, peeking over his jacket sleeve. Would the vampire fold, or simply throw his cards in the air and strangle the lady? Barnabas studied Julia, considering her proposition. The doctor's eyes gleamed in the candlelight.
"What exactly do you mean by cure, doctor? What I have is an ancient curse, not a head cold."
"The product of a bygone century. Now, modern medicine may provide the antidote." The doctor sounded capable and confident. "We won't know unless we try," she added seductively.
"How is Maggie?" Willie interrupted.
"She's doing well," the doctor replied dismissively. "And no threat to you, Barnabas, I made sure of it."
The vampire sat in the chair opposite her. "What about her father and the suitor? What do they make of all this?"
"Mr. Evans and Joe Haskell think I'm working with the young lady to regain her memory, not destroy it. My colleague, Dave Woodard, arranged for me to stay at Collinwood posing as a historian in order to investigate my findings."
"Does Woodard know?"
"Not yet," she smiled. "Not as long as I'm safe. He thinks I'm piecing together the..."
Willie rose to his feet and walked out of the room as their conference continued. He walked silently down the steps to the cellar and into the kitchen. At the sink, he primed the pump a few times and, when the frigid water flowed, stuck his head under it.
A minute later, the young man stood up and, with a shake of his hair, whipped water across the room. His heart was thumping and the cold momentarily made his head pound. Willie took in the deepest breath he could and yelled until his lungs were spent. Then he walked calmly upstairs and back to the parlor.
"Are you alright?" Julia asked, taken aback, as she watched him return to the floor by the fireplace, water dripping from his hair.
"He's fine; the boy tends to be emotional," Barnabas answered for his servant. "Willie, the doctor requires a laboratory in order to conduct her experiments." He still didn't sound completely convinced. "I want you to clean out a room in the basement."
Willie shook his head and spoke softly. "Can't do that."
"The dairy cellar should be adequate," the vampire continued, ignoring the young man's protest.
Are you cracked? Do you remember what's in the friggin' basement? "Barnabas, no."
The master's eyes flashed, though he spoke with composure. "Don't argue with me in front of our guest."
Willie looked his boss in the eye. "Sir," he said deliberately. "That's a very bad idea."
"You do not have an opinion on the matter," Barnabas stated.
Willie rose and approached the master. "Can we talk? In private? Just for a minute. 'Scuse us, Doc." He walked out of the room. The vampire hesitated, then stormed after him.
"How dare you—!" he fumed.
Willie shushed him and motioned Barnabas to follow him down the hallway. He led his boss to the ballroom and closed the door behind them. Seething, the vampire folded his arms and waited for the explanation.
"Okay, calm down. You can't put the lady in the dairy cellar. It's freezin' cold down there, and it stinks to high heaven. You, of all people, know how much it stinks."
"Then why don't you just clean it properly?" Barnabas snapped.
"That's not why it stinks—well, part of it is. But mostly it's because there's a body buried in the alcove. Did ya forget about that? Don't ya think she'll notice?"
The vampire shrugged. "I didn't think it was that obvious."
"It definitely is, because I'm not real good at diggin' graves. Robbin' them, yeah, maybe, but not diggin' 'em; 'specially with only one hand."
"What else can we do?"
"Are you kiddin'? Put her upstairs. You got enough bedrooms to open a fuckin' hotel."
The master backhanded him harshly. "You will adjust your attitude, boy. I'm done with it." He turned on his heel and swept out of the room. Willie picked himself up and obligingly followed.
"My manservant has pointed out the advantages of arranging a room for you on the third—"
"—Second floor," Willie corrected. "Sir." She can do her crazy-ass experiments near the vampire's bedroom, not his. What if she uses radioactive laser beams or something? "Those rooms are bigger," the young man explained. "The windows are taller for more light, nicer fireplaces, and she'd be closer to the bathroom."
"Excellent, Willie, I see you've given this thought." The master smiled at him knowingly. "So why don't you pick one and start moving out the furniture. . . now."
"Okay," Willie sighed. Julia approached to closer observe the cut on his mouth. That big, black ring always sliced his lip. He flinched away and left the room, running up the stairs two at a time, as was his custom. The servant wiped away the smear of blood and licked it off his fingers before determining which room would best suit their mad scientist. Maybe she would make him her laboratory assistant, and call him Igor. Could be fun.
