Chapter 11

It was the way she expected it to be. Candles in candlesticks. Antique furniture. Josette's portrait...

Vicky rested her hand on the frame of the portrait. She remembered the first time she had seen it on the wall.

And Josette's dress, the one she had worn for the costume party, where was it?

"Think, Vicky, think. Where are clothes usually kept in this house?"

At least she had plenty of time. Both Phillip and Oriana were out in the garden keeping watch there. And Willie was not likely to miss the key to the back entrance. She could now explore the house, find the dress, and get ready for when he woke up.

Josette's dress was more faded than she remembered it to be and in some places the seams had given. But it was still the same swirl of lace, the same costly material that had dazzled her the first times she had seen it.

She would have never been able, on her salary, to buy anything as beautiful as this.

There were tiny pearls sewn into the bodice. Small and delicate. They told a tale of romance, wealth, Old World charm...

And it was hers, now. Quickly she undressed, letting her clothes drop on the floor. She wouldn't need these anymore. She looked with distaste at the unsightly heap they made and kicked them out of the way.

She studied her naked boy in the mirror. Still young and firm. Maybe the breasts were a bit small... But Josette did not have them much larger...

"I can be Josette if I will it. I can be her for him. Then this house would be truly mine."

Jasmine scent. Yes, that was the one. She rubbed in on her breasts and shoulders. Not too much. She had remembered that she was an eighteenth century lady.

No makeup, either. Maybe a little power erase the traces of perspiration from her face.

Lacing the corset was more painful than she anticipated, yet she endured it. It was worth it. She was ready to put on the dress when she remembered she hadn't set the hair. In those days you did the hair first, since it was a lengthy, messy, operation that could stain the beautiful dresses.

She had the time for it, but not the skill, so she chose the simples arrangement that she could find. There would be time for ringlets later.

Finally she put the dress on. It hung from her shoulders, molded itself seductively around the breasts and gathered at the waist.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Flawless.

She descended the stairs silently. Dusk would fall soon.

Where was him? She knew that he would get up soon, but she wanted to be the first thing he set his eyes on tonight.

But she didn't know where he was. She could only wait for him.

Just below the portrait.

Fifteen minutes later a door creaked. She turned and saw Barnabas come in, saw the surprise in his face...

...In front of him was Vicky, dressed like Josette, under Josette's portrait.

"Vicky!" Barnabas cried "what are you doing?"

"It is all right. I understand." she smiled calmly at him.

"What are you doing in that dress?"

"I know this is the way you want me."

"Vicky..." something warned to be careful of what he said "I do not understand."

"Maggie did not want to, but I do." she extended her hands "I want you."

Barnabas took a step away from her "Maggie was right."

"No, she wasn't"

Barnabas stared at her. "What year is this, Vicky?" he asked gently.

"1968"

"It is 1980"

"1795? 1796?"

"1980"

"No!" Vicky shouted "It isn't I know it isn't!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"The papers... the stories about girls being attacked."

Barnabas sighed "That does not prove a thing." he said.

"This is 1968!" Vicky said fiercely.

He looked at her. She wanted it so much for it to be 1968. She knew it wasn't, but she thought that if she lied about it, she could make it so.

And she needed him to lie to her.

"Why do you want this to be 1968?"

"I don't want to! It is 1968!"

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Because...because... that is the truth."

Why couldn't he lie to her and make her happy? What would a few lies cost him?

Yes, only a few lies. Like the ones he had demanded of Maggie.

He too had known that those were lies. He too had thought that wishful thinking could turn lies into truth.

"No, Vicky, this isn't 1968 anymore."

He could understand her need. All her familiar world was gone. All her friends were either gone or so changed that she didn't recognize them. Nothing was the way she remembered it.

Nothing but him. He was the only anchor she could find. He could, if he wanted, bring back that time for her.

Just as Maggie, if she wanted, could have brought back his own time for him.

"It can't be the way you want it, Vicky."

"It will come to you. We will go together alone, the two of us. London, maybe?"

He did not dare move. He knew that something had to be done, but did not know what.

She moved towards him. "Please, say that you want me, say that things will be back the way they used to be."

The way they were...

"Did you like the way things used to be?"

"Yes."

"There was much pain and suffering. You saw enough of that."

"I don't care." she shook her head.

Should he try it? It had dangers. But to go on this way was dangerous, too.

"All right" he extended his arms. "Come... Josette."

Vicky raced to his arms, felling his embrace tighten around her, feeling his lips caress her face and stop at her mouth. They kissed passionately.

He still wanted her, in a way. After all those years, he still desired her.

Then he remembered that embrace they had shared when lost in the maze of her mind...

For Vicky, reality and fantasy were one. And she could drag him in...

He accepted what had to be done. Quickly, before she realized what she was doing, he caught he wrists and pinioned them behind her.

"Liar!" he shouted., pushing her away with his free hand.

She pivoted on her captive wrists and nearly fell on her face, being held up only by the hand that held her wrists.

"Barnabas... what are you doing?"

"You are a liar! You are not Josette! You can never be Josette! You are nothing but tramp and a thief! You just came to steak her jewels, didn't you?"

"No!" Vicky twisted in his grasp. What was happening? Why was he acting like this?

He tore off the necklace she was wearing, roughly. He was grateful that she hadn't put on earrings. He did not wish to hurt her.

"You thought that you could fool me?" he made her turn around and snarled at her. "You thought that you could get away with it?" he pulled at her hair, yanking her head upward.

...That angry face,,, those fangs... No, that was not the way she imagined it...no, it was not like that..

"Slut!" he released her hair, but kept her wrists tightly in his hand. It was awkward to hold her this way, but he had to make sure she didn't fall and hurt herself.

"Please, let me go."

"Too late for that." he pulled up his lips, ostentatiously, once more "I have you now. And I will kill you, my little thief. I will bury you where no one will find your body."

"No! Let me go!"

There was a key turning on the door. Barnabas stopped for a second to listen to it. So did Vicky.

"Help!" she screamed "Help!"

His hand closed around her throat, cutting off the air. Quickly he released her wrists and brought his other hand so that he could safely press her carotids and thus render her unconscious.

"What are you doing? Phillip asked from the door.

"I usually do not believe in shock treatment," Barnabas said shaking his head "but in this case I made an exception."

"Is she hurt?"

"Apart from the scare and some minor bruises, no. As you see, she's breathing normally."

"What is that dress she is wearing?"

"One of Josette's" he frowned "we have to get it off her. Well. I'll take care of it. You go make some coffee."

Phillip made a face. "How come every time something happens you send me to make coffee?"

"Would you rather I made it?"

"No." Phillip said emphatically "All right. Coffee's coming."