Chapter 7
Barnabas was surprised to see Oriana in the middle of unpacking.
"Are you back?"
"Yes. Do you mind?"
"No. Of course I don't I hope that your stay this time is less eventful, though."
"If I make things difficult for you and Vicky I'll move out."
"Phillip told you about her?"
"Yes."
"You won't have to move because of her. I think that she should move with Willie for her own sake."
Oriana nodded. "From what Phillip told me, I think it would be best."
"Yes. She and I..." Vicky was too much of reminder of how things used to be... Those days in which he threatened Maggie and abused Julia... when Willie looked at him with fear in his eyes, and he enjoyed that fear... No, Vicky should be gone...
"What about you?" he asked, changing the conversation abruptly.
"Tracking different stories... Do you remember that you still owe me a story about the local shaman?"
Barnabas made a face "Not now. But I got another story that you might like."
He told her quickly about the shopping center and the lack of transportation for the shop girls.
"You want me to write it?"
"It is a good story. And a good way to put pressure too."
"Yes. " Oriana was thoughtful. "I can see the angles on it."
At a distance, Vicky sat, looking out the window. She knew that she was being rotten company, but she could not bring herself to join the conversation. Barnabas and that woman were laughing together, sharing reminiscences she knew nothing about.
And Phillip...
Phillip made her so uneasy... made her thing about things she did not want to remember...
What was that she wanted, really? Did she want Barnabas to notice her? To look at her?
To hypnotize her into eloping with him?
She was not the only bird with a broken wing that he had taken in. She would not be the last.
Barnabas glanced at her. She was unhappy and afraid. She should have never come live with him.
And now that Oriana had made the decision for him on what he should do about the shopping center, there was even more reason for Vicky to move in with Willie. What would happen would be too much like old times, and he wanted her away from it.
"Do you feel all right?" Phillip asked Vicky, softly.
Vicky nodded. "She's very close to him, isn't she?" she indicated Oriana.
"You won't believe it, but at first she reacted to him worse than you do. I think I told you about her. The reporter he kidnapped. She gave him quite a bit of flak. Always hostile towards him."
"How come she changed her mind?"
"He gave her a couple of stories she could not resist. Maybe Willie will tell you more about it. He seemed to think it was funny, the way it turned out."
Buffy Harrington studied the room. It would need a lot of cleaning. She could not have a room looking like that, no matter what Mr. Collins said.
"You should not be here." Roxanne warned her.
"This place needs cleaning."
"It is dangerous" Roxanne insisted. "you could be ..lost. Even if we have some schedule of the changes, sometimes they happen earlier."
"How could I be lost?"
"Remember Barnabas Collins? He vanished in this room."
"Barnabas Collins?" In spite of herself, Buffy shuddered. She was overreacting. All things considered Barnabas had not harmed her, and compared with what was out walking the streets, he was very acceptable. Sill, the memory of his teeth on her throat sent a shiver down her spine.
"You knew him, didn't you?"
"I met him while I was still working at the Eagle. It was after I had been involved with John Yeager."
Roxanne looked at her quizzically "How much did you know him?"
"He bit me." Buffy shrugged "well, compared with what John Yeager put me through, it was nothing... And when you think of what is going on these days, it seems even less.:"
"Well, he disappeared here, and we don't have any idea of what might have happened to him. Just to be on the safe side..."
"It would seem to me that wherever Barnabas Collins is now is a lot safer than here" Buffy said cynically.
"Yes. But this is our world. This is where we must stay."
From the door in this universe Quentin listened to them. If only he had jumped Roger... if only he had gone for his portrait sooner... if only...
It was terrible, to watch his freedom so close by and never to be able to touch it. he could so taste it...
"You'll never be free, Quentin."
He turned. Jenny. Magda.. Carl.
"You don't have to rub it in." he said, bitterly.
"Of course, Vicky can stay with us" Willie said "we'd love having her here."
"Are you sure that she won't be an inconvenience?"
"I like her."
Barnabas sighed "I feel like I am imposing on you."
Willie looked at him knowingly "That is not what is eating you, is it?"
"No, it isn't. She just brings back bad memories for me. And they are a bit tough to take."
"I see. When are you going to stop punishing yourself for it?"
"I don't" Barnabas protested.
"You do. I don't get it. You read all those psychology books, and treat patients successfully. But when it comes to yourself, you are incredibly obtuse. You just want to suffer for it. And I won't have it."
Barnabas put his arm around Willie's shoulders "Thanks for caring. But I am afraid that there is not much you can do about it."
Louella appeared on the door before Willie could answer. "Are you two done talking?"
"Yes." Willie looked in her direction. "Barnabas asked me if we could take in Vicky Winters. I said we would. I know that I should have asked you.. but she needs a place to stay and she doesn't have anywhere else to go."
"Victoria Winters?" Louella asked.
"She could give you a hand in the house" Barnabas offered.
Louella shrugged "Well, why not? I'll enjoy having someone I can have a girl talk with.
"So that's not a problem for you?'"
"None at all."
Such sweet kids, Willie and Louella. he had almost asked her for her throat, but had restrained himself, remembering what he had to do.
He gathered his courage for what he knew must be done.
He fluttered over the center, patiently waiting for the last bus to leave.
Soon all the shoppers would be gone, and only the shop girls would remain.
It had to be done...
He chose her carefully. Young, plump, strong. She would probably scream and put up a fight.
She was walking, looking nervously around.
He gulped once, then materialized in front of her.
She screamed as he caught her arms and forced her head back.
She was kicking still as he bit into her. Then her body sagged forward.
She looked so fragile, so weak in his arms... There was fear in her glazed eyes.
Her pulse was steady. There had been little, if any, physical damage.
But the emotional one...
He let her lie down, as comfortably as he could, then hovered over her, keeping guard. He wasn't going to risk letting the creep who had killed the other girl find her in such a state.
The fear in her eyes... How could he have lived with that fear so long? Because it had been that way for him for so many nights...
And it had been worse... The ones he had killed... It had been at the beginning, when he was it too much pain, too bewildered to understand what he had to do. He had not known his own strength and squeezed their necks harder than he ought... or rather not squeeze their necks at all. He had been careless.
He remembered their faces, some of their names. He never knew them... It would have taken so little to spare them. A couple more minutes, a cool head...
But he had chosen to panic. Had chosen to dwell on his own misery and obsession with revenging himself on Angelique... Had chosen to beat his head against a wall...
Both George and Megan had tried to make it easy on him, remarking that given the circumstances, the only thing surprising about the damage he had done was that there had been no more of it. He was caught in a completely unfamiliar situation, with potential with disaster, and he had panicked... As George put it , it was as if he was suddenly whisked into a car, which was speeding on an icy road, without being told where the brake was.
But all of their words did not make the ache go away. Because it would have taken so little to spare them.
The girl's lids fluttered open. She was coming to. She would be weak, dazed, and afraid. But she would be all right And soon the wounds in her neck would be gone.
Except for the psychological scars.
The girl sat up, looked around, trying to recollect what she was doing there and how she got that way.
And when she did, she screamed.
