A/N: Welcome back! I apologize for the long wait, darlings!

I hope this chapter makes up for it. Okay, a huge thank you to: TinkerbellxO, CharlieCats, nuckythompson, Jandra1969, LabyFan23, MissMisc3, Lovely Rain Dancer, ForeverACharmedOne, Sapphire-Serenity-Phoinex, BlooperLover, runs with myths, Sagacious Rogue, Leyshla Gisel, Makrciana, XantheXV, 88dragon06, dionne dance, IgnitingFireworks and hannahhobnob. You all rock!

A special thank you to DIONNE DANCE. She knows why!

Disclaimer: I do not own dark Shadows.

Chapter 22

'Seeing you is as necessary to my life as breathing, so that I must see you or be yours no more, for that's the image I have of dying.'

~John Wilmot ( From his letters to Elizabeth Barry)

Samantha had been there before…Months ago. The hand upon hers was soft and warm, and absolutely human. The eyes of the man regarding her were soft and hot at the same time, but also worried.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked her as he inspected her bandaged palm.

She blinked and opened her mouth to speak, her lips familiar with her response. With a small shrug she replied, "I burned it in the kitchen, sir." She mumbled and he frowned before he did something that back then had made her feel odd, peculiar and warm inside. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her wrapped up palm. Samantha tried hard not to flinch. Why did he persist on touching her like that? She now knew the answer.

"You are not famous for your clumsiness, Samantha." He told her and she frowned, "Please be more careful or you'll ruin your skin." His voice was a scorching murmur and she tugged her hand free. She was now able to see the surprise in his eyes. He liked things his way. That much was certain.

"When you work things happen." She murmured quietly, "Soft hands are not to be expected from a maid, Master. Surely you are aware of that." She shook the cloth she was holding, his vest, and eyed him expectantly. This was a dream for she felt angry and confused. He no longer was that man…He wasn't. But dreams like that were good, grounding. They were a reminder of who he had been and what he had become.

She watched as he frowned, "I did not mean to offend you."

"I know." She gulped.

"Please, forgive me." He was ever so polite. Even in his worst days.

She watched as he stared at her for a moment longer before he turned and slipped his arms through the vest. Did he know that it was a dream? Or was that a secret only she was aware of? Nevertheless, she continued as she should. She smoothed the vest over his shoulders and back before she took a few steps back. Exactly like that day. She remembered every detail of their meetings, every little bit. She had spent days thinking of those little things while he had been tucked away in that crypt.

"Anything else?" she asked mechanically and she saw hesitation in his gaze as he turned around to face her; hesitation that hadn't been there before. She couldn't remember the reluctance in his gaze. She frowned to herself.

Slowly, almost reluctantly he shook his head. Samantha was mindful of the way he was eyeing her face, her skin... the gentle curve of her bare neck.

Feeling out of place, she took a deep breath and spoke, "Have a good day, sir." She bowed her head as she should have and then stepped further away.

"Samantha." His voice was choked up, strained; hoarse.

She slowly turned and watched as he picked something up with white knuckles. What on earth was wrong?

"I want you to read it. I think you are ready." He told her while reaching out to her with the Divine Comedy in his hand.

Her eyes widened, but she spoke all the same, "I…I don't have the time to read it."

She hadn't managed to finish it anyway…Or perhaps she didn't remember that she had done so. She was fearful to change their dialogues, the words that had been uttered between them, because she wanted to maintain their memories. Without her memories she was nothing.

"Find time." He commanded her hoarsely, but there was something else. The room was suddenly dark, the air heavy with something akin to dread. The feeling soaked her to her pores, caused every hair on her body to stand on end and caused her heartbeat to accelerate. She suddenly felt unsettled.

With a heavy feeling in her gut, she swallowed hard and took the Divine Comedy from his hand. The volume was heavy and thick against her weathered palm.

"I shall try." Her eyes widened when she realized that she had changed a single word.

He didn't seem to notice so he didn't know it was a dream. Of course not. It was her mind that was waking up these memories as dreams. She was the one who needed them.

Almost reflexively, as if her body knew the motions, she clutched the book to her heaving chest. Suddenly, she had trouble seeing him. Funny…Had she imagined that it was day?

"Read it and let me know of your thoughts on it. Especially on Inferno." His voice seemed so close but her eyes no longer cooperated with her. She…she couldn't see him. Was it too dark or had she gone blind?

"Master?" she breathed and then a scent reached her nostrils, startling her, disgusting her. It was the metallic smell of blood.

She took a step back and her foot stumbled against the carpet beneath her shoes.

"Your remember Inferno?" he asked her and she swallowed thickly when his suddenly ice cold hand clasped her neck in a tight grip. She cried out and dropped the book. It fell between them and she heard him kicking it away as he backed her against what felt like the door.

"Hell…Yes." He whispered to himself, obviously answering her unspoken question from the past.

Her hand shot out to grasp his wrist and she felt it wet and sickly sticky. She wanted to gag. How had her memory changed from a relatively happy one to this nightmare?

"Hell most foul and hot. I cannot let you taste my hell, my love. I have to do this…for…for if I cannot be with you like I want to, I'll surely die. Forgive me." His cold breath fell upon her parted lips and she shook her head fiercely as she felt him coming closer to the tender skin of her jaw. His cold lips touched the edge of her chin and then moved downward until she could feel the arctic touch of his mouth against her throat.

She gulped and he inhaled sharply when he felt her throat bob. His hand let go of her neck and grasped her hair instead; his fingers cold and harsh, and strong in their grip. She blinked and waited for it, but she could feel his body shaking, she could sense and even taste his hesitation, but then footsteps echoed in the hall outside his chamber and Samantha stiffened. He did too and then he snarled.

"Stay away, you Satan. I'd rather die than let you control her like a ragdoll." He whispered, his voice a hiss of fury and she gasped.

"Barnabas-…"

"I'd rather see her dead."

And with those words he sunk his teeth into her skin, breaking the tissue with a single pierce of his deadly fangs.

Samantha groaned and gurgled, and screamed as she felt the thick red slickness that was her blood sliding down her throat, soaking her dress and corset. She could feel him shaking against her and she could even hear his mournful whimpering, but he didn't stop. He kept going until she could feel herself growing weaker, until she could sense the life leaving her broken body. His hand was rough through her hair as he held her closely pressed against him and she could hear the escalating sound of his sobs as he slowly drained her of any life. As if in slow motion, she could feel her eyes drifting shut, she could feel her heartbeat slowing down, for it had great difficulty pumping any more blood through her body. There was no more blood left in her. He was stealing it away and she didn't even know why he had decided to end her life.

Finally, he pulled his lips away and as he did so she felt her heart giving its last faint thump. She fought for breath, but she couldn't breathe. The last thing she felt before everything went dark was the distinct wetness of tears as he nuzzled his cheek against hers. She knew no more.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A hand shook her awake and she shot up with a loud gasp. Her hand immediately went to her throat and she groped around for any signs of blood or marks but she found none. It was a dream…A bloody real and very painful dream. She could even feel the sting of his teeth against her.

"Sam?" Maria's voice whispered and the bed dipped, "Are you alright?"

Samantha looked into the soft face of Maria and heaved a great breath, "I…I am fine."

"Were you dreaming? I heard you screaming while I was in the washroom. I had to come and wake you because the master is in his study…with a guest." Maria whispered and Samantha's eyes widened.

"Guest?" she exclaimed and Maria nodded, "In the evening?"

Maria sighed, "A representative of the fishermen came. During his absence a lot of men working for him had been eager to know his whereabouts."

"And his disposition won't allow him to have day meetings." Samantha pointed out.

"Yes." Maria nodded, "I have work to do so perhaps you can take some refreshments to them, yes?"

Samantha stood up, still shaken from her nightmare, but she had things to do. She had to supervise the conversation because even though Barnabas was out of his hiding place he was still a predator and a vampire with appetite for human blood.

"What did you dream about? And why were you even sleeping at this hour?" Maria asked as she handed her the apron.

Samantha shook her head, "I was feeling tired. And I don't remember my dream." She replied. She had to lie because she didn't even wish to speak of her dream. It had been terrifying.

She tied the apron around her waist and then tidied her hair, before she turned to face Maria who was looking at her worriedly.

"I am fine." She said quietly.

"Are you sure? How's the mark?"

Samantha frowned, "It's almost healed…Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's making you sick…You know…there is venom in him. He might have-…"

"Maria, I am fine. I am not feverish or anything. Just tired. I have to go." She patted Maria's arm and then she was gone.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I am terribly sorry this meeting has been postponed for so long, Captain Carrion. I assure you it was not in my power to see you earlier." Barnabas' voice was loud and clear as she entered his study with a tray of refreshments and some fruit.

"I am just glad we have the chance to discuss the crisis together, Mr. Collins. The men have been anxious about your course of action." The fisherman replied and eyed Samantha as she placed the tray on the desk and stepped back.

"Thank you, Samantha." Barnabas murmured before he turned his attention to the older man, "Yes, I was informed of your visit while I was gone. I must admit, I have not yet realized the extent of the problem, Captain. Would you care to enlighten me? I am afraid that my parents' death has taken all my energy. Forgive the ignorance." He said quietly.

Samantha caught his eye and he motioned for her to stand near the door. She could see his stiff posture and no matter how at ease he tried to look there was still an air of unsettlement upon him, one that was not easy to detect, but Samantha knew him. She saw that he had forced his hands to remain against the armrests. His back was straight and his face looked less pale in the candlelight. Night provided the perfect glamour for his new self. She was glad.

Captain Carrion stared at his employer, before he reached for the bag that was by his feet. He slipped his hand inside and then threw something on top of the desk.

Her master's eyes widened when he saw the dead, odd smelling fish. Samantha wiggled her nose at the scent as well.

"Captain Carrion?" Barnabas frowned, "What on earth-…"

"That's what we've been catching, Master Collins. That's what has brought us to our knees. If this goes on, I don't think the fishing business will last for long." The Captain stated and Barnabas leaned closer to inspect the fish.

"What do you mean? Are you saying that the fish you are catching are already dead?" He cocked an eyebrow and his exceedingly dark eyes glimmered with confusion and suspicion.

"Aye, sir. Every one of them. It's like the whole East Coast is poisoned. The waters bring nothing but death." The fisherman said with narrowed eyes.

Barnabas leaned back against his chair.

"Poisoned? Is there proof?"

"Proof?"

"Yes. Have there been any accidents with other animals…or even people?"

"Not that I know of, sir." The fisherman answered and Barnabas nodded.

"I see. What if you start travelling further out?" he suggested.

"Master Collins, our boats won't hold. The last storm almost destroyed our livelihood. You know that."

"As a matter of fact I do not. I was not here. I fear, I must come and see the boats myself. Then we can take it from there." Barnabas said and the captain eyed him oddly. "Something you have to say, Captain?" he asked lowly.

"You look different, sir. Are you well?"

Samantha almost gasped out loud at the question.

"Captain?" her master frowned.

"You look pale, sir. Have you seen a doctor?" Captain Carrion asked.

"I am tired…and I caught a bit of a cold. But I am fine-…"

"Sir, there has also been another rumor since the fish started to get sick.

"Rumor, Captain? Pray, what is this rumor?" Barnabas asked and his anger was palpable in the air around them. It made Samantha fidget.

"Since there was this death in your manor-…"

"You mean Mr. Bosworth's death." Barnabas cut him off and Samantha froze. Why was that man brought up now? Wasn't it over?

"Yes, that man. Since then there have been a series of misfortunes upon your household, Master Collins." He drawled and her master shifted in his seat, his posture becoming less lax.

"Captain…are you insinuating something I should know?" he murmured quietly, almost too quietly.

It was the Captain's turn to fidget then, "Sir, there are rumors that your family is…rather unfortunate. Some even go as far as to claim that you are cursed. Isn't that the reason why you left England?"

Barnabas' eyes darkened, "My good Captain, I do not understand the connection. Are you saying that the lack of fish is my fault? Are you saying that my family has brought death and bad luck upon this land?" He slowly stood to tower over the other man.

"Master Collins, I am merely saying what others-…"

"Sir!" Barnabas cut him off severely, "The way of your words speak of your devotion to these awful rumors. Are you going to accuse me of murder too? Pray, where is your fairness, Captain? Where is your justice?"

Without inhibition, he walked around the desk and came to stand next to the fisherman, his long fingers curled into tight fists of indignation.

Samantha cleared her throat but no one turned to look at her. She frowned.

"If I have offended you, I must apologize, Master Collins. But I have to admit that the situations and incidents leave no room for justice. This is a small town. Superstition has followed us since the first edition of the Witches' Hammer in Maine." The Captain had seemed rather uneducated to Samantha at first, but now he was speaking of…What was he talking about?

"You speak of the Malleus Maleficarum…Are you accusing me of sorcery, Captain? Shall I remind you that this town was built by my family? My father's sweat and blood made Collinsport what it is. And no one can accuse us of trickery." Barnabas' eyes were spitting fire and she could see that his features were getting darker, twisted.

"No one is accusing you, Master Collins. You must listen." He leaned a bit closer, "But we know that you had the offspring of a witch in your household until very recently. Beware of your friends-…'

"Isabel Bouchard was no friend of mine, Captain Carrion. She was burned at the stake when her daughter was nothing but a child. Surely you remember that." Barnabas said quietly with a grimace of what looked like pain.

"Indeed, my son." The old Captain murmured, "So, now you understand the rumors."

"And what must I do to erase these rumors, sir? Name your plan."

Samantha licked her dry lips and looked between the two men with nervousness. Isabel Bouchard. Angelique's mother.

"I have no suggestions, Master Collins. A curse is a curse and no one escapes from it. My only advice is a prayer. For if this continues, our people won't have food on their tables. Not the same can be said about you." Captain Carrion stepped back and picked up his satchel before he turned to go.

He brushed by Samantha on his way out, "I shall wait at the docks around four in the morning. You can see for yourself the plague that has fallen upon us. Good evening."

His voice echoed in the hall and Samantha stepped out to watch him as he took his leave.

Suddenly, a crush made her jump. When she looked inside the study she saw Barnabas throwing a chair against the window in a fit of rage. It shattered into a million little pieces.

She gasped, "Barnabas!"

"Her sorcery is making me seem like a monster! I have brought nothing but peace and wealth upon this land! How dare they accuse me of her deceitful ways? Her sick mind is unfathomable. Her nature is so dark and twisted-…" suddenly he stopped and turned to face her, "Do you know what she's done? I sent word to the church, asking why she had refused to take the position my mother had found her. Do you know what the vicar said? He said that she got employed at the local tavern. She's been poisoning people's minds with her sick spells! That's why these rumors have risen so suddenly. No wonder Josette's father stated that he will think me guilty of her death." He ran his ands through his sort hair and he snarled, his eyes glimmering with malice. Samantha was shocked when she saw the edges of his elongated canines protruding from his lips. Her dream came back to her and she took a reflexive step back.

He noticed and his expression softened while his teeth shrank back to their normal length.

"I am so sorry." He whispered as he lowered his hands from his hair.

"It's alright-…"

"I am scaring you." He murmured.

"I am fine." She shook her head and approached him. He stiffened and she smiled.

"She is doing this. Poisoning the waters with her sorcery…She wants to destroy me. She wants to destroy this town." He leaned heavily against the desk and swallowed numerous times.

Samantha took a deep breath, "Why did they bring up Philip? I thought the case was closed since no family came to ask details about his death."

"I thought so too. But his murder took place in my mansion. In my house." He replied, "I feel so tired…I want everything to go away."

"But it won't. It's only just starting. You have to go to the docks." She whispered.

"And I shall. I only pray it doesn't get too bright before I return." He muttered with sarcasm.

Samantha took a step closer, "He spoke of a book. May I assume that it's the infamous book the Catholic Church has been using in order to condemn witches at the stake?" she asked quietly and his eyes snapped down to hers.

"The Witches' Hammer. Indeed. The sorcery handbook designed to find, identify and punish any woman who meddles with witchcraft. Have you read it?" he asked her hoarsely and Samantha shook her head.

"No…I've only heard stories." She whispered as a shiver went up and down her spine.

"It clarifies how a woman can become witch. In the first part of the book. They call witches Satan's whores for they pay with their body to acquire their powers. Then we continue with the second part…It explains the ways witches go about their powers. What they do, who they approach…what methods they use. I have found the remedies for a witch's powers to be useless. A myth. Nothing but the devil himself can stop them." He shook his head, his features tight and dark, "And at last…" he trailed off as he raised a hand and brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

"At last?" she encouraged even though the conversation caused her to shudder terribly.

"The last part is the most difficult to read…It explains the procedure of a witch's prosecution… The methods with which one can torture the truth out of them. It disgusts me. The ways they can make a woman suffer." He snarls, "It's inhuman."

"But you believe in sorcery…I do so too."

"That doesn't make it right to condemn innocent maidens just because they dress inappropriately or just because they…are more liberated than the lasses of our time. It's absurd. Do you know how many women have died for no reason? Women are considered lascivious and carnal while men aren't? Don't make me laugh. This world is built upon lies and deception. The real witches always get away because of their powers." His fingers hooked beneath her chin, "Not everything is as it seems." He murmured.

"I understand. I had heard something and I didn't want to believe it. It happened decades ago." She whispered and he tilted his head to the side.

"Yes?"

"My mother once told me that they had condemned a young girl because she had eloped with a man. The man was found dead in the stables where they had been hiding. They had found the woman praying to some unknown god and they had taken her back to her village. Then they burned her because they believed that she had killed the man while asking help from that heathen god of hers. She hadn't shed a tear during her trial…She hadn't said a words to defend herself. The man had been stabbed ten times in the chest by a blade that no one had ever found. But what stood out was her lack of tears. And so, they think that women who are witches do not cry while they are trialed for sorcery. They kill each one who doesn't shed a tear. It's rather…frightening. When I am in shock I do not cry. What if it happened to me? It's ridiculous." She shook her head and he frowned.

"A lot has happened in the name of our God, Samantha. Unspeakable deeds. But the point is that the real evil beings are left to roam our world free. Look at me. She made me what I am. I am a monster because they burned her mother and let her go free."

"I do wonder how she…how she learned-…"

"You do not learn that!" he cut her off sharply as he walked around the desk and came to stand next to the broken window. He picked up a shard of glass and brushed his fingers over the sharp edge.

"You are born with it. It's your choice to use it for good or bad. When she was a child…she was wicked…She was a devious little girl. But she had no one to install discipline upon her. The tragic loss of her mother made almost everyone lenient on her. How to punish a child who has no one in the world? You want to help her, make her feel whole. As a child, I had noticed nothing of her natural inclination to witchcraft. My mother always told me not to look down upon her. However, my family's position made me feel powerful …It gave me a feeling of utter confidence and I hadn't realized that my meddling with her would have such serious outcomes. She was a young woman who always got out the worst in me." He paused and then took a deep breath before pressing the shard against his skin, drawing thick blood, "All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman ... What else is woman but a foe to friendship, an inescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil of nature, painted with fair colors..." He whispered and she frowned.

He turned to her while rubbing his bloodied thump against his palm, "It's from the book. I should have understood what she was. I only did so when it was too late." He threw the shard away and Samantha's eyes went to his bloodied skin.

"You're bleeding." She whispered and he blinked.

"Indeed. She will come after you…or she already has. That's why you're still alive…The fall…" he trailed off and she gulped.

"I already know she has done something to me…" she whispered.

"What?" he frowned.

"I noticed something…Something I haven't given much thought on. But it is not the time to talk about it. You must meet with Mr. Du Pres-…" her words were cut off by his fingers grasping her chin.

"Samantha." He hissed and her eyes widened, "Talk to me." He said more softly and she looked at her bandaged wrist.

His eyes followed her gaze and he narrowed his eyes before he reached for her hand. She resisted, "Not now. Barnabas, please!"

"No more lies. No more." He told her and then proceeded to remove the bandage from around her wrist. He tugged the cloth away and eyed her face before he turned her hand over, palm up.

His eyes widened. Her skin was perfectly smooth. No cut and no caked blood from the knife she had used to cut her skin with in her attempt to provide him with her blood. How was that possible?

But that was not what was alarming. What made Barnabas freeze and growl softly, was the mark that had been engraved upon her tender wrist.

B.C

His initials.

End of chapter 22

Author's note: Thank you for reading! So you see how the town is slowly turning against him and his cursed family. I hope this chapter was illuminating.

The Witches' Hammer (Malleus Maleficarum) is a real book if you don't know it. It was written in 1487 in Germany. And the lines Barnabas uses for Angelique are from it. Just some info…

Also, does anyone remember the scene from the dream sequence? Which chapter was it? Can you remember? Hmmm? No cheating! Am I asking a lot? Oh well… :p

Anyway, I hope you liked it. If you want more, then please review! It will make my day!

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Until next time!

Xxx Lina ;o)