(Book 2)

CHAPTER ONE

 

Julia Hoffman stared into the swirling grey shadows of limbo as the centuries flowed past. With each steady step on the Stairway Through Time she moved farther away from the year 1799 and closer to the relative safety of her own time.

Safety.

The irony of that thought was not lost on her. She wondered if Collinwood -- past or present -- had ever offered safety...to her or anyone.

It had certainly never offered any kind of refuge to the others with her now. She looked down and to her right and saw the two young women following behind her on the spiral staircase. Collinwood had brought only tragedy to them -- a fact that had only been brought home once again within these last few hours.

At seeing Vicki, Julia's sense of gloom dissipated somewhat. They had been successful at least in saving Vicki from her gruesome fate -- killed at the hands of Jeb Hawkes on Widow's Hill. But that triumph had not been without a price. Death, ever unsatiable, had reached out and taken Peter Bradford and Jeb instead.

How many souls had it claimed, how many lives forever altered by the mysterious forces which seemed built into the very walls of the house? None who lived within its sphere appeared untouched by its influence.

Including herself.

She had been fortunate, she told herself. She had witnessed and partaken in things which she would have once never believed possible. She need only look about her if she needed to be reminded of that. If she ever had the opportunity she could spend the rest of her life doing research and writing papers on what she had learned in the past four years.

Yes, she had partaken in things which she would never have believed possible. And the memories of some of those things would haunt her forever.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and looked about her once again. She realized that their ascent had once again turned to a decent and she relaxed slightly. That meant they were nearing the end of their journey. If all went well they would be back in 1971 in a few moments.

It was then that she felt the presence -- just as she had sensed it before when they had traveled back to the eighteenth century. A malevolence which seemed to come at her from all sides, filling her with fear and apprehension. She jerked her head to the left and saw the vague form of a man suspended in the void just beyond the banister. He moved closer, his arm outstretched, motioning to her... summoning...

"Who...who are you?" Julia cried out, her hand to her throat. But even as she said the words, she felt the space around her lighten and grow more distinct. A moment later she found herself standing in the corridor of the West Wing.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Carolyn watched in wonder as they continued down the staircase. At least she felt they were going down. She was experiencing a sense of vertigo which made it difficult for her to determine exactly which direction they were going. Her senses seemed dulled and slightly disoriented, reminding her of the times she and Buzz Hackett would smoke marijuana on the cliffs overlooking Findley's Cove. Her thoughts skipping down one path after another, with seeming renewed vitality and awareness.

She hadn't thought of that in years. She hadn't particularly liked the experience -- or Buzz -- both had merely been a means to an end and neither had been successful.

Why think of that now?

She looked out into the void and wondered if that horrible summer was just beyond the railing.

So much to try to understand. These past few days had brought a real awareness to her, as opposed to a drug induced one. For most of her life she had felt at the mercy of fate, that she had no real control of what was happening at Collinwood. But these past few weeks had changed all of that. She was seeing everything now as if for the first time. As if an inner sight had been reawakened.

Reawakened? That thought puzzled her. She had never had this sort of insight before, so why did it feel so familiar?

She didn't presume to understand it all...her home...her family...but somehow it all seemed to be coming together...like some larger than life mosaic.

Carolyn looked about her into the undulating currents of grey mists. It did not matter to her that she could not understand how this staircase worked -- although she would like to know -- it mattered only that it

did exist. It was just another part of the house where she had grown up, a piece of her life, another color in the painting.

She did not have words to express even to herself what she was feeling. She only knew that she would never look at the world, or her own life, the same again.

Despite herself, she thought of Jeb. But instead of seeing the man she loved she saw the servant of the dark that he truly was. There was no more grief in her. Her love had made him human once, but it had not been enough to keep him from reverting to what he was. It was as if Jeb had been two different people. A constant inner battle that he had fought and lost. She had loved the human Jeb, but she felt nothing for the other.

She hoped Professor Stokes could explain some of the things she was feeling now. There was so much to try to take in. She would contact him as soon as they returned.

Carolyn tensed, feeling the very air around her change, becoming charged with some sort of energy. Had Julia said something? She looked ahead and saw Julia standing in the corridor, a look of terror on her face.

To her left, something caught her eye as walked down the last few steps. The grey void seemed to suddenly take shape, coalescing into the shadowed form of a man. Carolyn opened her mouth as if to say something, but found herself speechless. Fear shot through her...and a feeling of familiarity...one she could almost identify...

And then she stepped off the staircase and into the hall.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Victoria Winters-Bradford followed after her friends as they descended the staircase. No, not just friends. One at least was family.

Her sister. Carolyn was her sister. The words ran through her mind but were connected with no emotion. She supposed she was in shock. So much had happened in such a short time. Her head throbbed and she moved a hand up to massage her temple and looked away from the pulsating abyss beyond the bannister. She felt slightly nauseated and wished that this experience, extraordinary as it was, would end.

She had enough extraordinary experiences these past few weeks. How did things ever get to this point?

Her mind flashed back to meeting Simon. That was the beginning of it all. And the end. It was she and Peter's last night together before the darkness descended again.

It was all so clear. She remembered the dining room at the hotel, the warmth of the fire behind the grate, even the taste of the meal. And then Simon had appeared asking her help, telling her the nightmare that she had witnessed could be changed. History could be altered. But he couldn't do it alone. He needed her.

And, of course, she had talked Peter into going back to Collinsport.

Why hadn't they refused?

No, why hadn't she refused? Peter was against it from the start. But she had talked him into it, believing in Simon and his cause wholeheartedly. Even after they had returned, Peter had tried to convince her of the danger but she wouldn't listen. She was doing what

was `right' and everything would work out this time, and so she turned a deaf ear to his warnings...his feelings.

He had known they were going to fail, that their life was never going to be the same.

But she had done what was expected of her. She had heedlessly charged into battle with the dark forces and Peter had died because of it.

And now she was going home.

To her own time. Her own family.

She should feel elation, sadness, grief. So many different emotions should be running through her. But she felt nothing, only a cold numbness.

For a moment it appeared that she was alone on the staircase, but then she saw Julia and Carolyn, outlined in a doorway, anxiously looking up at her. She could tell they were calling her name, but she could not hear the words.

Laughter. Cruel...harsh...evil...

Fear seized her, smashing through the numbness. For an instant she froze, panic-stricken, overwhelmed by the sound of his voice.

She looked down at Julia and saw that the other woman was stepping through the doorway, coming up the stairs after her.

"Vicki...hurry!" Julia cried.

Julia's voice broke through, freeing her from her panic. She took the last few steps down the staircase but not before a hand reached out and

touched her shoulder. She pulled away and stepped through the portal.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

"Julia, what happened?" Carolyn asked as the three of them moved away from the doorway.

"I don't know," Julia said nervously as she watched the door. Several moments passed and the staircase slowly disappeared leaving in its place the small storage closet. Julia relaxed slightly and moved toward the now harmless door.

"I felt someone touch me," Vicki told them. "On my shoulder."

"Did you see who it was?" Carolyn asked.

"No..." Vicki answered slowly.

"Neither could I," Julia said.

Vicki continued. "I heard someone laughing...an evil laugh, like nothing I've ever heard before. It terrified me."

"I felt something happening even before I saw the form," Carolyn said hurriedly. "Julia, you mentioned seeing someone on the staircase when we used it the first time."

"Obviously the same person," Julia acknowledged. She looked at the open closet door. "Thankfully, the staircase vanished as soon as Vicki stepped into the hall."

"Who could it have been?" Carolyn asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Julia repeated slowly.

Vicki glanced over Carolyn's shoulder at the window at the end of the hall, noticing for the first time the light streaming in through the dirt-streaked, ivy covered glass panes.

"It's light outside," Vicki said with surprise as she walked the few steps to the window. "But it was in the middle of the night when we left."

"What's a few hours when you travel through the centuries," Carolyn said drily as she came up behind Vicki and rested a hand on her arm. "I wonder how long we've been gone?"

"Hopefully not long after we left," Julia commented. "Probably a few days." She put her hands on the flowing fabric of her skirt. "I'll be glad to get out of these."

"I know what you mean," Carolyn said as she looked down at her own 18th century dress. Vicki stood quietly and stared out the window.

Carolyn looked back at Julia and motioned toward the closet door. "What should we do about...what happened on the stairway?"

Julia looked thoughtful. "I'll call Elliot Stokes once we've changed clothes. Maybe he will have some ideas."

"Ask him if he can come up to the house," Carolyn instructed. "I've a few things I'd like to discuss with him as well."

"I suppose we may as well go to our rooms," Julia said, stealing one last worried look at the spot where the staircase had disappeared.

"Come on, Vicki," Carolyn said with a small smile as she slid her arm

around her sister's shoulder. "I know exactly where we stored your clothes."

Vicki nodded in agreement and even managed a weak smile but said nothing as they slowly walked down the hall toward the main part of the house.

Vicki looked at herself in the full length mirror, not altogether happy with the fit of the dress. She had almost forgotten how short the skirts were.

Carolyn stood behind her and gave an approving nod. "Much better. And certainly more comfortable."

"I suppose so," Vicki agreed hesitantly. She turned a bit so she could see the back. "But it seems almost...unnatural. I'd gotten used to the long dresses. I hope Maggie doesn't mind my borrowing her clothes."

"I think Maggie will be so happy to see you that she won't even notice what you're wearing," Carolyn pointed out. "Besides, what other choice did we have? Your old clothes we got out of the attic were entirely too dusty to wear...not to mention out of style. Tomorrow we'll go into the village and do some shopping at Brewster's. That will hold you over until next week when we can go to Ellsworth or Boston for some serious shopping."

Vicki made no answer and merely nodded in agreement, a forced smile on her face.

Carolyn put a comforting hand on her elbow. "Vicki, I'm sorry. I'm just rattling away, not even thinking about how difficult this all must be for you."

Vicki continued to look into the mirror as she answered. "It just all

seems so...overwhelming."

"Of course it does," Carolyn said. "For me too." Her lip trembled slightly as tried to force down the emotions. "I've never had a sister before."

Vicki turned to her now, holding her as her own emotions finally began to slip out. She wasn't sure whether her tears were borne from grief or joy but only that they could no longer be denied. The two held tightly to one another until, finally, the tears began to subside.

"We'll get through this, Vicki," Carolyn said. "Somehow, we'll get through this."

"I know," Vicki said as pulled away and wiped at her tear-stained face. "It's just that I'm feeling so many things...grief...anger...even happiness. It's all so conflicting, and then it just all goes away and I don't feel anything."

"I'm sure that's perfectly normal," Carolyn comforted. "It's going to take time. Don't expect too much of yourself right now."

"I don't know what to expect anymore," Vicki said bitterly. "I want to see everyone...and yet, I don't. Carolyn, what am I going to say to your mother? To my mother?"

"I don't have any answers, Vicki," Carolyn answered shaking her head. "Especially where Mother is concerned. But we'll find the answers...together. You're not alone anymore, Vicki. You have a family now."

"A family," Vicki repeated as she turned back to the mirror. "I've spent all my life wishing for one...imagining one, and now that I've found them I'm afraid."

"Not exactly the family you imagined," Carolyn said with a smile.

Vicki turned to Carolyn. "Not exactly, no, but it's always seemed so `right' here. As if I belonged in this house."

"You do belong here, Vicki," Carolyn reassured. "I'm going to go downstairs and let everyone know that you've...returned. I'll come back for you in a few minutes."

Vicki took a breath and nodded. "I'm ready."

"I won't be long," Carolyn said as she walked to the door and, offering one last reassuring smile, closed the door behind her.

Vicki listened quietly as Carolyn's footsteps disappeared into the distance. There was no turning back now. As if she had somewhere she could turn back to.

She walked to the window and twisted the latch. She never tired of the fresh sea breeze, and though the air was not as clean and clear as she had been accustomed to in the last few years, it was still far superior to the air in New York.

Her thoughts drifted back to her childhood, the long, lonely years spent at the Hammond Orphanage. There were certainly worse conditions in which to live. The staff had been warm and caring, offering a structured, if somewhat distant, support group. And New York, with all its drawbacks, had given her the opportunity to see some of the finest museums and theaters in the world. An education of sorts that she could not have received anywhere else.

But she hadn't had this. She hadn't had a real home. A real family. An identity.

She smiled to herself, remembering all the fantasies she had weaved as

a child. Her father had been a King of some small Republic, his life threatened by renegade forces so he had left her on the doorstep of the orphanage for her own safety, planning to return for her when all was safe. In more somber moods, she had imagined her mother being grievously ill, sacrificing what small happiness she could have with her child, she had given her up so that her daughter could live a full and happy life.

There had been hundreds more, most of which, Vicki realized, she could still recall with vivid detail. But there had been no returning King and she had fallen asleep every night with only her dreams to comfort her.

Her mother had not been ill. She had been here, living at Collinwood. The mistress of the Collins estate and fortune.

Why? Why had she given her away?

She had many questions. They were enough to disturb and upset anyone. If only that were all she had to worry about. Her gaze turned toward the tree line and made out the slight part in the trees which indicated the path to the Old House.

That was another issue which could no longer be denied.

She knew the truth.

When she had returned to the present after the seance, her memories of what she had experienced were clouded and obscure. Some things had returned completely -- her love for Peter, but the majority of events were a jumbled mass of conflicting incidents. She had remembered certain people and events but could not put them in order.

But that had changed once she and Peter had returned to that century to live out their lives. She had remembered everything that happened to

her originally.

...the trial...Barnabas' death...the attacks on the women in the village...

Attacks that were identical to the ones in her own time. Events which had started shortly after the present-day Barnabas had arrived in town.

Present-day Barnabas. She knew now that there was only one Barnabas Collins. The original. The one who had died by Angelique's hand and had returned from the dead, cursed by her. She had returned too, as Cassandra, intent on restoring her curse.

How many lives destroyed...ended...because of that evil?

She thought of Maggie. Maggie, who looked exactly like Josette, a fact that could not have been lost on the newly arrived `cousin from England'. She knew that it must have been Barnabas that had kidnapped Maggie -- not Willie. Maggie, who had suffered from the same attacks as so many others. So many things fell into place...the marks on her throat, the loss of blood...finding her at Eagle Hill...it all made so much sense in retrospect.

Vicki turned away from the window and paced around the room. It seemed that Carolyn had been gone for at least a half-hour -- or more. Growing impatient, she glanced in the mirror one last time and walked out the door.

 

The clock in the foyer was striking half past two as Julia reached the bottom of the steps. A quick shower and change of clothes had helped to somewhat banish the fatigue she was feeling -- for a while at least. More refreshing than the pleasures of running water had been the two cigarettes she had smoked as soon as she'd returned to her room.

She wished she could have slept for a few hours, but there was far too much to be done. Barnabas would be anxious to hear all about her journey, not to mention the discussion of another subject which she'd been putting off for months. And she would have to call Elliot and set up a time to meet with him. What she had seen on the Stairway Through Time could not be ignored. And then of course, there was always the hospital.

In the drawing room she saw Liz at her desk, busily at work, so engrossed that she had not heard Julia come down the stairs. But as Julia walked into the room, the sound of her heels no longer drowned out by the chiming clock, Liz looked up.

"Julia!" Liz exclaimed, rising from the chair. "You're back. Where's Carolyn?"

"She's upstairs, Elizabeth," Julia said with a smile, trying to calm the other woman's fears. "She's perfectly alright. We're all safe."

"I was so worried," Liz said, relaxing for a moment before she realized what Julia had said. Then her face tensed again. "All?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. We were successful in saving Vicki. She's upstairs with Carolyn."

"Upstairs?" Elizabeth said numbly. She turned away from Julia and grasped the back of the chair, closing her eyes in a silent prayer. "Thank God, she's alright."

"She's fine, considering what all she's been through," Julia explained.

Liz turned to her again, concern etched deeply into her face. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe we should sit down and I'll...I'll try to explain," Julia said as

she ushered her to the sofa.

They talked for several minutes, Julia telling Liz what she could of the events of their journey to the past. How they had found Vicki soon after their arrival and that Carolyn's prophetic dreams had lead them to Widow's Hill, enabling them to save Vicki from being thrown to her death...at the hands of Jeb Hawkes.

"Jeb!?" Elizabeth said with surprise. "But that isn't possible!"

"I don't understand what he was doing there in that time myself," Julia admitted. "But it was Jeb. And if Carolyn hadn't arrived when she did, he would have killed Vicki."

"Where is Jeb now?" Liz asked, an old fear rising within her.

"He and Peter were struggling at the cliff's edge. When he saw Carolyn he was...distracted. He fell over the edge."

"Carolyn must be beside herself," Liz said as she rose from the couch. "I've got to go to her."

"It's alright Elizabeth," Julia reassured, taking her hand and motioning for her to sit down again.

"She was so distraught before when Jeb died. And now, to see it all over again."

"I've been keeping a close eye on both of them," Julia explained. "Carolyn seems to be coping very well this time. I think...seeing that dark side of Jeb...the inhuman side...was, in a way, therapeutic for her." She watched Liz closely, looking for some sign of understanding.

Elizabeth looked at Julia, sensing that there seemed to be something more to what Julia was saying...something that she should know...that

she almost comprehended...almost...

"You're sure she's alright?"

"Better than most people would be, I think," Julia acknowledged.

"And Peter," Liz continued. "What about Peter? I can't imagine Vicki coming back here alone. Not after giving up her life here in order to be with him."

Julia took a breath and picked up her story with Peter's "arrest" by the constable. Elizabeth listened quietly, closing her eyes when Julia explained the circumstances surround his death.

"That poor girl," Liz said softly. "She's been through so much."

"She didn't want to return with us at first," Julia told her. "I was afraid that she would want to stay...in that other time."

Elizabeth looked slightly relieved. "You did the right thing. She needs to be here with...people who care for her, people who can help her through this difficult time."

"It is always important to have a strong support group in a time like this," Julia said slowly, softly. "The support of her family will be instrumental in her recovering."

Elizabeth looked sharply at Julia, her face registering only a momentary flash of panic. "Vicki...Vicki has always been like a member of this family. Of course we'll all be...."

"Elizabeth," Julia interrupted, reaching over and taking the other woman's hand in her own. "Carolyn told me everything."

"She..." But she could not finish. She rose from the sofa and walked to

the fireplace. "I...I see."

"She was very upset," Julia explained. "She needed someone to talk to. And, she felt it might have some bearing on what we were trying to accomplish."

"You must think me -- a very cold woman," Liz said quietly, not looking at Julia.

"Not at all. I think what you did took a great deal of courage."

Elizabeth turned fiercely, her voice unable to keep her self-recriminations hidden. "There was nothing courageous about what I did."

"I disagree," Julia said firmly. "You made a difficult decision, one that required a great deal of strength and resolve."

Elizabeth looked Julia in the eye, still not believing that she was discussing this. Her guilt swelled within her, smashing through the emotionless walls she had used to keep this shame hidden. Her voice faltered, choked with emotion. "I...I gave her away, Julia."

"Which must have seemed the right thing to do at the time," Julia said comfortingly.

"I gave away my own daughter," Elizabeth continued, unable to stop the flood of feelings she was experiencing. Reassuringly, Julia reached out and grasped Liz's hands. "I feel so...ashamed, Julia."

"We've all done things we've regretted," Julia said softly, shifting into her professional tone out of habit.

"I don't know how I'll ever explain it to her," Liz said, regaining her composure somewhat. Then the thought occurred to her. "Does she

know the truth?"

"Yes," Julia said. "Carolyn has already told her."

"What she must think," Elizabeth said painfully. "She must hate me. And she has every right to."

"She's confused, Elizabeth -- and angry," Julia explained. "But that's to be expected. Whatever she's feeling I doubt it is hatred. I've never known Vicki to hate anyone."

"Perhaps she's never had cause to before," Liz said ruefully.

The sound of footsteps in the foyer stopped Julia from replying and both women looked up to see Carolyn enter the room.

"Carolyn!" Elizabeth said with relief as she ran to her daughter.

Julia noticed that Carolyn, despite being upset with her mother not only allowed Elizabeth to embrace her but even returned the affection.

"I was so worried about you," Elizabeth said as she held Carolyn at arms length, not willing to release her grip.

"I'm fine, Mother," Carolyn assured. She looked at her mother and then Julia, sensing that she had interrupted something. "Has Julia told you...everything?"

"Yes," Liz answered. "She told me everything that happened, that Vicki has returned with you. But darling, right now I'm concerned about you. She explained to me about Jeb."

Carolyn's coolness seemed to crack at seeing her mother's concern. "I'm...alright, Mother. Really. I think it was...helpful in a way. We can discuss it more later."

"Of course," Liz said nervously. She hadn't known what mood to expect from Carolyn and was pleased at how much calmer she was. "I'm just so glad you're safe."

"Where is everyone, anyway?" Carolyn asked. "I couldn't find a soul."

Elizabeth drew a breath and composed her thoughts. Her head felt light, as if she had stood up too quickly. "Roger is at the cannery. Maggie is in the village checking out the cottage. Quentin is about somewhere, I suppose, and David should be in his room."

"I'll go and tell David about Vicki," Carolyn said somewhat reservedly. "She's waiting in my room, Mother. I'll tell her to come down."

Elizabeth took a breath, glanced at Julia and then told Carolyn, "I think it best if I talk with her there."

Carolyn saw the turmoil her mother was going through and, despite her still smoldering anger, wanted to say something to reassure her. On impulse, she reached out and softly kissed her mother on the cheek. "Everything is going to be alright, Mother."

Elizabeth, stunned by such a display, managed a weak smile. "Thank you, dear."

Carolyn felt herself near tears and tried to ease the tension. "I'd better go tell David that now he has two governesses."

Julia and Elizabeth followed her into the foyer. Carolyn stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back. "Julia, be sure to tell Professor Stokes that I need to talk with him."

"I'll call him as soon as I reach Wyndcliffe," she promised as she picked up her gloves and purse from the table.

As Carolyn walked across the landing Elizabeth followed Julia to the door. "Thank you, Julia," Elizabeth said softly. "For understanding."

"If you need me, I'll be at the hospital," Julia reassured.

Elizabeth gave a small reassuring nod and shut the door after Julia and slowly walked back into the foyer, lost in thought.

The moment of truth. How could she possibly walk up those stairs and face Vicki? How could she explain the desperateness she had felt all those years ago? The fear? Somehow, she would have to make her understand.

Her palms were sweating and for a moment she felt slightly nauseous. Perhaps she should have a brandy to steady her nerves. She never drank before sundown, but this was hardly an ordinary situation. No. That would not help. Only facing the truth would, and she'd been dodging that for almost twenty-five years. She took a deep breath and decisively turned toward the stairs. But before she even reached the banister, she sensed that she was not alone. Elizabeth looked up and there on the landing, silently watching her, was Vicki.

 

The dappled sunlight flashed through the trees and across the hood as Julia maneuvered her Buick down the narrow asphalt road which, among other things, connected Collinwood to the Old House. She had no sooner driven out the driveway before she had hastily pushed in the cigarette lighter. Remembering the lighter she had in her purse, she reached over on the seat and groped within it with her right hand. Just where she'd left it. Taking her eyes from the road for a moment she focused on lighting the cigarette dangling in her mouth. Once done, she reached with her left hand and felt for the lever which lowered the right passenger window. Just a crack, so the smoke would flow out.

She did not envy Elizabeth and the confrontation that she faced.

And she was more than a little apprehensive about this meeting with Barnabas.

But she couldn't put it off any longer. Barnabas had to be told the truth. She owed him that much.

Or did she?

She knew that once she told him that Roxanne Drew was alive in Parallel Time that he would make every attempt to go to her, regardless of the risks.

As if Barnabas' safety was her main concern. She smiled to herself that she, a doctor of psychiatry, could lie to herself so well.

No, her reasons were personal. Because if she admitted that she was jealous of Roxanne she would also have to explain why she was jealous. And that terrified her. Almost as much as the thought of Barnabas going to Roxanne.

The car cigarette lighter popped and Julia started in her seat. She pulled off the asphalt road and turned down the long dirt road which would take her to the Old House. She was more nervous than she realized.

And why shouldn't she be? This was probably going to be the most important conversation she had ever had with Barnabas. One of the most important ones of her life. She had ever reason to be a little tense. Everything was on the line. He would be furious with her for withholding this information for so long. She knew that. But she had to believe that their relationship was strong enough to weather such a..a betrayal.

And that's what it was. A betrayal.

After she and Barnabas had returned from Parallel Time, Quentin had told her of seeing a young woman in the room calling for Barnabas. Julia had managed to not arouse Quentin's suspicions and, thankfully, he had said nothing to Barnabas about the incident. She remembered going their last fall, looking into Angelique's room, praying that Quentin had been wrong. After all, Timothy Stokes had set fire to Collinwood in Parallel Time. The flames had nearly claimed she and Barnabas...and they had believed the room destroyed in that other time. But Quentin had not been wrong, for she had seen Roxanne herself, walking about the charred remains, forlorn...heartbroken...

And Julia had said nothing.

She had never told Barnabas of what she had seen. At the time, she justified it to herself as being necessary. They were trying to save Collinwood from Gerard Stiles. If Barnabas had known about Roxanne it would only have divided his attention and complicated matters, risking everything. There would be time to tell him later.

And when they had returned from 1840 months ago she had still said nothing.

But that would change. Today. If their relationship -- whatever it was or might someday be -- was to mean anything, it would have to be based in honesty.

No matter how much it hurt.

And besides, with Vicki's return there was another `rival'. There was no way to keep that secret, even if she had wanted to. In fact, this might be the best time to tell him the truth about Roxanne. Vicki's presence might keep him from rushing back to Parallel Time without

any regard for his own safety.

She pulled the car up the gravel driveway and put it in park. As she closed the door she saw the curtain in the window move back into place. Barnabas was standing in the open doorway by the time she reached the bottom step.

"Julia," he said as she entered the foyer. "I can't tell you how surprised I was to see your car coming up the drive. Is Vicki alright? Were you successful?"

"Yes," she told him with a smile, seeing the tension leave his face with her answer.

"Thank God," he said with relief. He looked at her and smiled. "You seem none the worse for the experience. How is Carolyn?"

"Trying not to act overwhelmed with everything that has happened to her," Julia said as she settled into the winged back chair by the fireplace. Barnabas took his customary chair opposite her, anxious for her to elaborate.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Julia," Barnabas said, managing to keep most of the irritation out of his voice. "What happened?"

And so she told him. He managed to keep his questions to a minimum, content to let her tell him the story at her own pace. Jeb's presence in that time obviously puzzled and disturbed him. She noticed that, surprisingly, most of his questions concerned Ben, Millicent and his father. She was about to tell him of her parting conversation with Joshua when he interrupted.

"But if Bradford was killed, where did Vicki go? Did she stay on with my father?"

"No, Barnabas," Julia said. "Vicki is at Collinwood, here...now. She returned with us."

"Vicki is here!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair. "Why didn't you tell me this in the beginning?"

"Because if I had, I knew you would be out the door and I wouldn't have been able to tell you anything else and there are some things we must discuss."

"Well, you were right in predicting my reaction," he said hurriedly as he headed for the foyer. "We can talk more later, Julia. I must go see Vicki immediately."

By the time she had reached the foyer he had already taken his caped coat and cane from the coat rack and was out the door. He did not even look back to see if she was following. She had not told him of Vicki's parentage -- leaving that to either Vicki or Elizabeth to reveal -- or the strange figure on the staircase, or the message sent by his father.

Or of Roxanne.

Feeling both aggravation and relief, she closed the door of the Old House and walked down the steps toward her car.

Barnabas had already disappeared into the woods.

 

 

Never taking her eyes off Elizabeth, Vicki slowly walked across the landing and down the stairs. So many emotions whirling through her that she could barely stand. Elizabeth never moved, afraid that by doing so she would break the spell and the young girl coming towards

her would disappear like a vision from a dream. They stood within arms reach, as they had so many times in the past -- one knowing the truth; the other not.

Now they both knew.

They stared at each other, not knowing what to do or say, lips quivering...vision blurring with tears...

Elizabeth reached out trembling arms...afraid of being rejected...afraid of holding her...

Vicki took the final step and closed the gap between them, knowing for the first time her Mother's embrace.

 

 

It was several minutes before they wiped their tears and walked into the Drawing Room to sit on the sofa. Vicki kept looking about the room and then back at her mother.

"It's hard for me to believe that I'm really here."

"I find it difficult to believe myself," Elizabeth said. "But you are here, and you must have a great many questions."

For the first time, Vicki's face clouded. "Yes, I do...but so much has happened so quickly. I don't know where to begin."

"Julia told me about Peter," Liz said as Vicki's head bowed slightly. "I'm so sorry. It doesn't seem fair. The two of you had such a short amount of time together."

"No, no it isn't fair," Vicki agreed, a hint of anger edging out the pain

in her voice. "None of it has been fair."

"You mean me," Elizabeth said quietly.

"Yes," Vicki said firmly. "I suppose I do."

"You have every right to feel angry and hurt by what I've done," Elizabeth confessed.

"Mrs. Stoddard, I don't know what I feel!" Vicki gave a short sarcastic laugh. "Mrs. Stoddard? That sounds so formal now. I don't even know what to call you."

"I would hope, that someday, you'll call me Mother," Liz said emotionally.

"I've wanted to call someone that all my life," Vicki cried. "But I was never given the opportunity."

"I know. I robbed you of that, like so many other things," Elizabeth confessed painfully. "I know what it is like to grow up without a mother's love. I can't make that up to you, Vicki. I can't change what I've done. But I am here for you now."

Vicki stood up and walked to the fireplace, collecting her thoughts. Brokenly she began. "When I was in the orphanage...when I was old enough to know what an orphanage was...I kept asking myself `why did my parents give me away?' What was it about me that was so...terrible that they had to give me away?" She turned fiercely, accusingly, years of pain and tears coming out. "Why? Why did you do it?! Why did you give me away?"

Elizabeth went to her and tried to place a comforting arm around her shoulders, but Vicki would have none of it and pulled away. For a moment she was back at the orphanage, reliving all the feelings of

abandonment that she had thought were resolved long ago.

Liz paced for a moment in front of the fireplace and then motioned for Vicki to sit down again. "Try to understand that things...attitudes...were very different then from what they are now. Women who were pregnant without the benefit of marriage were outcasts, pariahs. The options were very limited, either give the baby up for adoption or...abort. I could never do that."

"What about my father?" Vicki asked. "Did he have any say in the decision?"

"Your father...is another story," Liz said cautiously. "He never even knew you had been conceived." She paused for a moment and then continued. "Had the decision been up to me, I would have tried to raise you myself. But as I said, those were different times. My father was a very gentle, loving man...but very stern. He would not hear of the family being `disgraced' and so I went to New York and gave birth to you there. It was he who made all the arrangements through our lawyers with the Hammond Foundling Home."

Elizabeth clasped her hands together in front of her as her eyes focused on some object far away. "I'll never forget the day I left you on the doorstep. Father had wanted to take you himself, but I wouldn't allow it. It was so cold that day. Winter had come early and hard that year. So very hard..." Her voice faltered for a moment before she continued. "I watched from across the street, hidden in an alley. I had to be certain they found you. I watched...as they picked up your basket, read the note...saw them take you inside, bent over, looking at you. And then they closed the door. And I stood there...alone, trying to convince myself that I'd done the right thing."

"We returned to Collinwood with no one suspecting the truth. My father died shortly after we returned and I suddenly found myself in

charge of the family business. The money was sent monthly for your care and education -- anonymously of course, and I engrossed myself in Collins Enterprises hoping that I could block out what had happened."

"And you were successful," Vicki said sardonically from the sofa.

"Not entirely. I couldn't forget you. I didn't want to forget. And with Father gone I realized that I might dare to venture to see you occasionally. Christening...school plays... graduation." Elizabeth paused, her face clouded with regret. "And then I met Paul Stoddard."

"I always wondered," Vicki interrupted, "when I was walking down a street, or in a crowded store, whether somehow, without my knowing it, my parents might be close by."

"I kept track of your progress," Elizabeth continued. "As best I could from here."

"So when I began looking for a career..." Vicki started.

"I sent for you to come here as David's governess," Elizabeth admitted. "It all seemed so perfect...as if it were meant to be."

"But why didn't you tell me the truth once I came?" Vicki demanded. "I asked on more than one occasion."

"I was afraid, Vicki," Liz confessed. "My years of self-imposed exile had changed me, made me colder, almost bitter. No one knew the truth, and I had the Collins family reputation to think of." She smiled ruefully. "I know, the same argument that my father used to pressure me into giving you up. We truly are the products of our parents."

Vicki sat quietly a moment, taking it all in. "You still haven't told me

about my father," she said resolutely.

Elizabeth was about to comment when they both heard the sound of running footsteps on the stairs in the foyer. Carolyn's voice called out angrily. "David!" But there was no stopping the boy as he raced down the last few stairs and ran across the foyer to the closed drawing room doors. A moment later he burst into the room.

"Vicki!" he cried as he threw his arms around her.

"David!" she exclaimed, returning his embrace. She pushed him back and looked at him -- almost eye to eye. "Look at how tall you are!"

He gave an awkward grin. "Yeah, I've grown a bit since you've been gone.

Carolyn stood in the doorway, her anger melting at seeing their reunion but feeling that David still deserved a rebuke. "David, I told you to wait upstairs."

"Why should I wait upstairs when Vicki is down here?" he asked.

"It's alright Carolyn," Elizabeth said with a smile, relieved for the interruption. "We...needed a break."

"Gee, Vicki, are you back to stay?" David asked eagerly. "I'm too old for a governess -- I'm going to be going away to school next semester anyway -- but I bet Aunt Elizabeth could find a job for you like she did for Maggie."

"Vicki doesn't need a job to stay here, David," Elizabeth told him. "Hopefully she'll be with us for a long time to come."

David noticed a strange undercurrent between the adults and was about to ask why they seemed to be acting so strangely when the sound of

someone coming in the front door distracted him.

Elizabeth, who had a hand on Vicki's arm, couldn't help but notice her tense when she saw Barnabas standing in the foyer.

(Book 3)

CHAPTER ONE

 

"Angelique!" Barnabas said in shock. He watched, stunned as she moved across the darkened drawing room of the House by the Sea, her gaze never leaving his face.

"Hello, Barnabas," she said with a mischievous smile, her eyes blazing in the moonlight that streamed in through the window.

How could she be here? He tried desperately to sort out the conflicting emotions which were cascading upon him.

He had held her in his arms and watched helplessly as her life had slipped away, robbed months ago by Lamar Trask's bullet. She had been human during those last weeks in 1840 -- and she had died as a human, without the powers of witchcraft to resurrect herself.

So how could she be here now?

His mind raced. Unless the Angelique in front of him was from some other point in the time continuum. His heart froze in fear at that thought. If that were true, if she did not share the memories he had of those months in 1840, of the truce -- and later, the genuine affection and love they experienced. If that were true then she would be the old, vengeful Angelique.

She was almost close enough to touch him now and almost instinctively he took a step back. She stopped and seemed surprised by his reaction. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a hurt expression cross her face, but if so, it vanished quickly.

"Not exactly the reaction I had hoped for," Angelique said with a rueful smile. "But then, my expectations have often been unrealistic where you are concerned."

"How can you be here?" Barnabas finally managed. "I saw you die."

She smiled again -- that maddening smile. "You have seen that more than once," she told him playfully. Her face grew serious again, her voice filled with emotion. "But I always come back to you."

She was standing within arms reach now, her long blond hair falling about her shoulders, capturing the moonlight. Her head was tilted slightly as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and intent, searching his face. He couldn't be certain in the darkness but it seemed almost as if they held the hint of tears...

He felt his own emotions running out of control, one tumbling over the other in a wild cacophony of confusion. Love. Hate. Fear. All entwined in an impossibly complex jumble. Emotions as tangled and interwoven as their lives.

He had reason to fear her. He need look no further than this house to recall what crimes she was capable of committing in the name of her love. She had tried to make him her slave in this house. And she had nearly succeeded in returning him to the darkness...

But it had also been she who lifted the curse from him in 1840. It had been her actions which had averted the disaster which would have claimed them all. A sacrifice which eventually cost her life. Those were also her acts of love.

But did she remember those events? In her eyes were they lovers or enemies?

Before he could move away her hand moved toward him...

"Maggie," Joe Haskell said firmly as he held his former fiance by her shoulders. "Maggie, what's wrong? What have they done to you?"

"Joe?" Maggie mumbled slowly, her face barely showing any recognition. She stared at him, eyes wide open now, her mouth moving as if to repeat his name, but the word froze in her throat as she realized who he was.

Julia Hoffman saw the fear in Maggie's eyes and quickly stepped forward. Slowly, but resolutely, she put her hand on Joe's arm that was closest to her and tried to keep the anxiety she felt from being detected in her voice. "Maggie has had a very shocking experience tonight, Joe. I'm trying to take her to her room."

Maggie looked at Julia and then quickly turned away, nervously looking about the foyer, her attempts to release herself from Joe's grip becoming what could only be called a struggle.

"It doesn't seem that she wants your help, Doctor Hoffman," Joe said angrily. "I'll ask you again, what did you do to her?"

Julia tried to ignore his violent tone and focused her attention on Maggie. It didn't take a genius to see that the girl was close to a total breakdown. Considering what she had been through tonight, Julia was amazed that she'd held together this long. But the surprise of finding Joe Haskell in the foyer of Collinwood was not doing anything to improve her mental stability. For an instant her mind flared with rage at the person who had released him from Wyndecliffe without her authority. But there would be time enough later to deal with them.

She took another step closer, virtually wedging herself between Joe and Maggie. "Your presence here is upsetting her, Joe. Let go of her."

"We're not at Wyndecliffe anymore, Dr. Hoffman. I don't have to follow your orders. I'm not going to let you hurt Maggie!"

"I have no intention of hurting Maggie," Julia said as she vainly released his arm. It was pointless to try to match Joe's strength; she would try to break them apart by reasoning with him instead. "On the contrary, you seem to be the one who is harming her now."

Joe realized that as the confrontation had escalated his grip on Maggie's shoulders had tightened to the point where she was visibly uncomfortable. He relaxed his hands and she immediately pulled away from him and stumbled back to the stairs.

She looked from one of them to the other, her eyes anxious, but already slightly calmer just by being free.

"Maggie," Joe apologized. "I didn't mean to...I'm sorry." He took a step forward as he tried to explain but she threw out an arm, warning him back, the fear returning to her eyes.

He stopped, as if she had slapped him across the face. For the first time he saw that she was afraid of him -- and few things in his life had hurt him more. He watched painfully as she backed up onto the first step of the stairs, never taking her eyes off of him.

"What...what are you doing here, Joe?," she finally cried, as she hastily brushed her hair from her face with her hand. "Why are you here?" She was practically screaming the questions.

Stung by her reaction, Joe finally managed an answer. "I came to see you, Maggie. They released me today. I'm all right now. But you're not all right, Maggie. Something is wrong. Something has happened. I want to help you...if you'll let me."

Maggie stood nervously on the step, poised for flight. Her eyes left

Joe's for only an instant as she gazed at Julia and the memory of the night's events flooded over her again.

"No...no, this is too much," she whispered to herself, her eyes closed. She clutched the bannister to keep from falling. Joe moved forward, as if to catch her, but she jerked her head up suddenly and took another step up the stairs.

"No. Please, no!" she pleaded. "Just leave me alone!" She gave a quick look at Julia and then turned and raced up the stairs.

Julia could see the pained expression on Joe's face as he watched Maggie run across the landing and slam the door. She went to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll go talk to her."

Joe angrily pulled away. "It looks like you've already done enough for her, Doctor."

"Joe, you don't understand what's happened here," Julia explained. "Maggie's mental condition is in a very precarious position right now."

He looked back at the landing, a determined look on his face. "I'm going to talk to her," he said as he pushed past Julia.

"You could do irreparable harm to her if you do."

"I'd never harm Maggie," he said, his anger fading slightly. "You know that."

"Yes, I do," Julia acknowledged confidently, seeing that she was beginning to get through to him. "I know that you would never purposefully harm her." She saw the doubt in his eyes about what to do and took advantage of the momentary hesitation. "But without meaning to, your insistence on seeing her right now could be devastating. Maggie has many unresolved emotions where you are concerned, Joe.

To be forced to deal with them tonight might be more than she can handle after everything else."

He looked at her suspiciously, feeling that somehow he was being slightly manipulated. "And what exactly is `everything else'?"

Now it was Julia's turn to falter. She had no intention of going into any great detail with him about their encounter with Nicholas. It was too risky to know what to reveal until after she had spent time with Maggie to see how much the girl remembered -- and what she planned to do with that knowledge.

"It is much too complicated to get into now. And besides, there is the matter of confidentiality." It was a weak defense but it was all she could think of under the circumstances.

A skeptical sneer crossed Joe's face at this response. "So, you're concern for Maggie is on a professional basis...as her doctor."

"Yes," Julia said determinedly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "And as her friend."

"I'm not so sure you're the best doctor to take care of Maggie," Joe said flatly.

Julia was not entirely surprised by his tone. With raised eyebrow she stared him down defiantly. "And why not? I have helped Maggie in the past."

"Maybe that's the reason you shouldn't be her doctor now," Joe continued. "Maybe you're just a little too...personally involved."

"I don't know what you mean," she answered sternly, her eyes never leaving his as she tried to intimidate him.

But Joe was not going to be cajoled into submission. There were no orderlies now to take him back to his room if his manner became a little too aggressive. No nurses coming into his room with their hypodermics and pills. He was a free man -- and the rules had changed in his favor.

"What I mean is that Maggie's welfare is my chief concern. Is it yours, Dr. Hoffman? Or are there other people's interests that you are more concerned about?"

Julia was stunned by the question. The implied aspersion to her professional reputation was not what rankled her so, but rather the fact that Joe would ask such a question. She had a very good idea to who he was referring -- and the implications of that were a little more than what she was expecting. Best to dodge the whole issue for now.

 

"I can assure you that Maggie is my chief concern," Julia said firmly. "And if you are as concerned about her welfare as you claim to be you'll stop detaining me here and let me get to my patient." She could see he was about to argue so she softened her tone a bit. "Please, Joe. Let me go to her now and see if I can help. Then I'll come back down here

and talk to you and be in a better position to explain things more fully. But right now I really must get to Maggie."

He hesitated, weighing the sincerity of her words. His gaze once again went to the closed door at the top of the landing and his anger helplessly faded to sadness. Finally he grudgingly nodded.

"I'll wait in the drawing room."

Consciousness came on throbbing splinters of pain in his temples. As feeling slowly returned to his body Quentin gradually became aware

that he was prone on the floor. Thoughts began to coalesce a little clearer as he tried to sort out where he was.

Vicki.

It came back to him now in bits and pieces, like a badly spliced film... He had chased Vicki through the West Wing of the house...called out to her as she ran up the Stairway Through Time...watched as she vanished in front of his eyes as he stepped on the stairs...

With an effort he forced his arms to push himself up off the floor. Standing too fast, dizziness and nausea competed with one another and he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand against his temple to try and push the pain away. Thankfully, the wall was there to offer support. His eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness and he was thankful for the bright moonlight streaming in the window at the end of the hall.

In front of him the door stood open revealing the dark, empty shelves of the linen closet. The Stairway was gone...and with it, Vicki. Without knowing exactly how, he knew that he was still in the present. Wherever Vicki had gone she had gone alone.

But why hadn't he been able to follow? Why had the staircase worked for her and not him?

The memory of the experience came over him...like being swept out to sea by the tide, only to be slammed back to shore...

Was Nicholas somehow responsible? he wondered. What did he do to her to make her act so strangely?

He stumbled across the hall and peered into the darkness of the closet. Empty. No hint that it was anything but what it appeared. Dejectedly he stared at the shadowed shelves, a feeling of defeat slipping over

him.

"Vicki..." he whispered softly.

Nicholas would pay for this. He would see to that personally. Then he remembered Blair's threat to the family and wondered how long he had been unconscious. For all he knew, Blair was still in the house carrying out his vengeance.

With a sense of failure, he closed the door of the linen closet and hurried down the hall toward the main part of the house.

Maggie slammed the door to her room and quickly turned the key that she always kept in the lock.

She had made it. No one or nothing had stopped her. As she had run through the house she had half expected something to happen to keep her from the relative safety of her room. But she had made it. She was safe here.

Then she noticed that the room was in shadow; the only light coming from the small nightlight on the other side of the bed. Panic seized her as she stared into the dark corners of the room.

The darkness terrified her. Thoughts became more jumbled... Sharp things that cut, hurting her, tearing at her soul.

Make them go away. Make it all go away.

As if in answer to a command, her mind responded. Beyond the pain, past the jagged edges of her memory, was a dark cloud of relief that floated on the horizon of her consciousness. It had come to her before when she had needed it and now, like an old friend, she could sense it moving closer...

No.

Its soft border smoothed the barbed edges of her memories, wore them down until they were small and flat and palatable, only to finally vanish in the fog completely...one by one.

No. Not again.

Other memories now. Less threatening, but no less horrible. The months in Wyndecliffe... the shame she felt for the breakdown...the unanswered questions...

It was as if she were divided; part of her wanting to forget, the other part holding on desperately for the answers to long held questions. Both wanting the same thing -- to survive.

It would be so easy.

The cloud moved closer, blown by the winds of her terror. Her mind recoiled at what she had endured at Barnabas' hands...at Nicholas', as well. Deceived. Exploited. Victimized.

But you don't have to be a victim.

The thought came from somewhere deep within her and with an intensity and clarity she had never experienced. With a strength she did not know she possessed she willed herself away from the abyss of amnesia that was threatening to consume her again.

Her eyes flew open and she stared about the darkened room. She took another deep breath and put a hand to her mouth. She was still filled with panic, but this time it would not control her.

She would have to turn on the light on the vanity. Giving the bed a wide berth, she nervously fumbled for the light, grateful for the feel of

the knob and the clicking sound that followed. Warm light filled the room and her head slumped wearily with relief.

How long had she stood there by the door? She couldn't say. The mental victory she had just scored had left her weak and shaking. Or was it the knowledge which that victory had brought her the true cause of her trembling? She was terrified -- but she was herself. Whole. Complete. For the first time in years.

The memories inundated her now, and though they were no less horrible than before, they would not consume her this time. She would face the truth -- no matter what the consequences.

The knock on the door caught her by surprise. Startled, she merely stared at it, not knowing what to do.

"Maggie. It's Julia. May I come in?"

Slowly she moved around the foot of the bed, never taking her eyes from the door. The terror rose again but she pushed it down, determined not to be ruled by it.

"Maggie, please. I'm worried about you."

She sounds sincere, Maggie thought, as she reached out for the door knob. But what did that mean? How could she believe anything that came out of Julia's mouth?

Nervously, she pulled her hand back just as her fingers grazed the shiny knob. She bit her bottom lip as her confusion mounted.

"Maggie," Julia called in a softer voice. "I know you have every reason to have doubts about me but you must believe me when I say that I want to help you."

Anger made the decision for her and Maggie reached out and suddenly opened the door. "Help me?," she flared. "Like you helped me years ago, Julia?"

Julia's eyes flew open wide, startled by the fury in Maggie's face. "Can we discuss this in your room?"

She hesitated a moment and then stepped back, indicating that Julia could enter. Maggie noticed that Julia had her doctor's bag with her -- and that she was alone; she'd half expected Joe to be with her. "Where's Joe?"

"He's downstairs," Julia explained, setting her bag down on the bed and turning to look at Maggie. "I didn't think you were up to seeing him now."

"Afraid of what we might discuss?" Maggie snapped.

Julia recoiled, as if stung. "That...that's not why I asked him to stay downstairs..."

"You were just watching out for my welfare," Maggie said sarcastically, surprised at the intensity of her animosity. So much anger and resentment churned within her, there was little she could do to stop it from coming out. And right now, she saw no reason to even try.

Julia had recovered quickly from the initial verbal attack and was already assessing how best to approach the situation and deal with this hostility. "Whether you choose to believe me or not, that is exactly what I am doing," Julia answered firmly, never taking her eyes off of Maggie.

Maggie seemed on the verge of challenging this but already her anger was ebbing, replaced by confusion once again. "Right now I don't

know what to believe."

"I can understand how you must feel..."

"Can you, Julia?" Maggie asked. "Can you really? Somehow, I have a little trouble believing that." She turned away from the other woman and paced the length of the room. "Or maybe I shouldn't have trouble believing that. After all, you do probably know me better than anyone else. For months we were together at Wyndecliffe. I was like a child then. A terrified child. I told you everything about my life. There was no aspect of it you didn't know about eventually during those months of therapy. So maybe you do understand when I tell you I've never felt so betrayed!"

"Maggie," Julia began painfully, but Maggie cut her off again as the anger returned in full force.

 

"I trusted you, Julia! I thought you were my friend! And all the time you were helping him!"

"Not in the beginning," Julia said, realizing the words sounded like an admission of guilt. "I didn't learn the truth until after I came to Collinsport. Your case offered the rare opportunity to explore an area of science that, until my studies, was considered a myth."

"That `case' was my life, Julia!" Maggie screamed. "A life Barnabas nearly destroyed."

"I believed I could treat you both successfully."

"How could you help him knowing what he'd done to me?" Maggie demanded.

"Because he was as worthy of help as you were," Julia countered firmly. "I've made some terrible mistakes in the past but helping Barnabas was not one of them. I know you have every reason to doubt me, but I am asking you to believe me when I say that however right or wrong my actions may have been I was always motivated by your well being just as much as his."

"How do you expect me to believe that?" Maggie asked incredulously. But unmistakably there was the hint in her tone that she wanted to believe what Julia was saying.

"I brought you here, didn't I?" Julia pointed out. She hesitated, wondering how far she should push this -- how many unpleasant memories she should dredge up. "I could have just as easily taken you down to the cellar of the Old House and kept you there."

Maggie flinched visibly with the recollection of her prison and Julia wondered for a moment if this memory was too painful; if she had pushed her too far. So much depended on her regaining Maggie's trust -- at least partially. But she could see that Maggie was hesitating, weighing the logic of Julia's words.

"Barnabas would never do such a thing," Julia continued, hoping that she sounded convincing. She had her own doubts about the veracity of this statement but she couldn't allow Maggie to see that. "He is not the same man as he was in 1967."

"He wasn't a man at all," Maggie said, unable to keep the terror out of her voice.

"No...no he wasn't," Julia answered haltingly. It was difficult to break old habits, and it seemed almost surreal to be so open with Maggie about Barnabas. "But he is now. And that is what you have to focus on, Maggie. Barnabas is a man again. He is not that crazed..." She searched for the proper word, unable to find the one she was looking

for.

"Creature?" Maggie supplied.

"Yes. For lack of a better term," Julia agreed.

"There is a better term," Maggie said. "Vampire." She practically spat the word.

"All right, then...vampire," Julia repeated as she stepped closer.

The last vestiges of composure were falling once again from Maggie. With the utterance of the word a flood of memories came to the surface... Walking through the woods, as if in a dream, not knowing where she was going but feeling the tug of his mind...seeing him standing in the shadow of some tree...waiting. The soft caress of his lips on her throat.... Then other memories broke through: ...the subtle brainwashing... resisting his will...holding on to her own identity...the punishments...trapped in the coffin...

"No one should be allowed to go unpunished for what he did to me!" Maggie cried.

"Normally I would agree with you," Julia told her as she moved closer. She watched Maggie intently, not wanting to push her too far. "But these are not normal circumstances. You must try to understand that Barnabas at that time was consumed by...by forces which he could not control. The curse...or disease from which he suffered controlled him."

"He was evil!" Maggie declared as she remembered her torment.

"Yes...yes, he was," Julia admitted. "But he is not under that curse any longer and the memory of what he did while he suffered from it is a more cruel punishment than you or I could ever imagine."

This seemed to stir something with Maggie. Her eyes lost some of their fire and she turned away from Julia, who lost no time in pressing the argument.

"You are remembering the Barnabas that was," Julia began. "But you are forgetting the man that you've known these last several years. The man who has helped and protected this family by placing his own life in danger time and time again...as he did tonight with Nicholas."

Julia could sense Maggie tense at the mention of Nicholas' name and watched silently as she slowly turned to face her, a pained, quizzical look on her face which seemed almost childlike.

"He...he was going to..." Maggie began haltingly, but then put a hand to her mouth as if to silence herself.

"How much of that do you remember, Maggie?" Julia asked.

Maggie's eyes grew wide with terror, as this other horror was recalled. Another betrayal. "I..I remember candles...lots of candles, and Nicholas talking so seriously...and a knife. He had a knife..."

"Nicholas was going to use the knife on you, Maggie," Julia told her quietly. "In a ceremony that would tie you to him for all eternity."

"Eternity..." Maggie repeated, feeling somewhat dazed.

 

"Nicholas was not a normal man," Julia explained. "He was a warlock. And the ceremony he was performing was a Black Mass which would have cost you your life...and more...if Barnabas hadn't stopped him."

With difficulty she tried to sort out the cluttered conflicting memories of that evening. She vaguely recalled lying on a hard surface, Nicholas

standing over her with a knife...then other voices...a struggle...then Barnabas helping her off the strange...altar... Then Nicholas again, his face twisted with hatred, threatening to destroy Barnabas and Julia...his screams as the flames consumed him...

"What happened to Nicholas?" Maggie asked as that image crystallized in her mind.

"I wish I knew for certain," Julia confessed. "Evidently he was destroyed, but we have believed that to be so before."

"I...I can't believe it..." Maggie finally managed.

"Maggie, this is an incredible amount of information for you to deal with at one time," Julia explained as she went to her bag. "You're very upset. Let me give you a sedative."

A hint of alarm and distrust returned to her eyes as she looked at Julia. "No. I don't want anything. I won't take any kind of sedative, Julia."

Julia hesitated and realized she had gone over the boundary that Maggie had established. Obviously Maggie wasn't going to trust her enough to allow her to give her a drug. "Very well. But you must try to remain as calm as possible."

"How can you expect me to remain calm?"

"I don't. In fact, I'd be more concerned about you if you were totally calm right now. I'm only suggesting that you try to put things into perspective."

"My sense of perspective is a little off balance right now, Julia," Maggie said sarcastically. Julia was delighted with the response. If Maggie could make even this slight attempt at humor then perhaps there was some hope. Maybe she had been listening to everything she'd

been telling her after all.

"I'm merely asking is that you look at things as they are now, in the present. I'm not trying to minimize what happened to you, I'm only suggesting that you not let the past distort the present," Julia told her. "We are your friends, Maggie. Especially Barnabas. It wasn't so long ago that the two of you were very close."

"This is all happening so fast," Maggie said as she began pacing again. "I don't know what to do."

"Don't do anything," Julia suggested. "At least, not right away. Give yourself time to sort things out."

Maggie looked at her, still wary, but feeling some of the warmth of their friendship returning. "I'm frightened, Julia."

Julia moved closer and took Maggie's hand reassuringly. "I can understand why you would be," she admitted. "But you have nothing to fear from Barnabas or myself. I promise you that, Maggie...as your friend."

Doubts and confusion continued to plague her. She wanted so much to believe Julia. To know that in this maelstrom of uncertainty that she could count on someone or something as being constant. And yet, it was this very lose of faith that was the source of her turmoil. And then another thought crossed her mind...

"Joe." Maggie said suddenly. "Is he still here?"

"He's waiting in the drawing room," Julia told her. "I suggested he stay there until after I talked with you." Julia tilted her head and eyed Maggie curiously. "Do you want to see him now?"

Maggie looked away, a little ashamed at her answer. "No. Not now."

"I don't know if he'll settle for that," Julia explained. "He seems very determined to see you."

Another situation to confront. But not now. She simply couldn't deal with seeing Joe now.

"Tell him...tell him that I'm just not up to it tonight. Maybe tomorrow...." She turned and looked at Julia again, the pain and confusion clearly evident on her face. "I just can't see him tonight, Julia."

"I understand," Julia said as she picked up her bag from the bed. "And I think he will, too."

Maggie stood in the center of the room and watched as Julia walked to the door. "May I stop back by later and check on you?" Julia asked.

After hesitating a moment, Maggie merely nodded. No doubt she would have more questions to ask by that time.

Tenderly her fingers caressed the hollow of his cheek.

"You're...frightened of me," Angelique said, astonished. She appeared reflective for a moment and then smiled once again. "Of course, you would be."

"You've given me ample cause to fear you in the past," Barnabas told her sternly. He had not intended for her to sense his apprehension.

She had turned away from him and was looking about the room. "The past...," she murmured almost to herself. "Our pasts are more intertwined than you know, Barnabas. We are bound together, you and

I. For all eternity."

"If you mean as one of the undead I should point out that I am free of the curse."

"Thanks to me," she reminded as she turned toward him again. He had missed the true meaning of her words completely.

He felt some relief at this admission. "Then you remember removing the curse in 1840?"

"I remember many things from our time together in the past," she replied, stepping closer. She looked up at him, feeling the attraction between them once again; reveling in being near him. She could not stop herself from reaching out and resting a hand on his chest. "Many wonderful things."

This time he did not pull away, caught up in the moment as well. The fear receded in his eyes -- but did not vanish completely. He reached up and clasped her hand in his. "As do I..."

Her eyes held him, large and full of love as she reached out once again and touched his face. "Oh, Barnabas. I did not believe I would ever see you again," she cried, her voice quivering with emotion.

"Nor I, you, Angelique," he admitted, allowing his own feelings for her to show. But then he straightened, as a puzzled look returned to his face. "But I do not understand how you have returned. I am a normal man again...as you were a normal woman when Trask shot you."

Her mood changed at the mention of Trask' name. She pulled away from him then. "Yes...I was a mortal woman then...and died as one."

The change in her demeanor puzzled him. She seemed almost angry, as if she did not wish to discuss the matter. But he had to know...to

understand how she could be here now. "Angelique, then how did you..."

She finished the sentence for him. "...return to you?" she said cleverly, knowing that wasn't exactly what he was asking. "What difference does it make, as long as I'm here?"

"It makes a difference to me." Barnabas told her.

"Why?" she asked pointedly, the fire in her eyes rising. "When I laid dying in your arms you confessed your love to me. At last I heard the words I had waited so long to hear from you. Do you still feel that way, Barnabas? Even if my mere presence here proves that I am no longer mortal?"

 

 

He wavered, not knowing what to say -- or what he felt. Why was there always such conflict in every aspect of him when he dealt with her? His own anger began to rise. "Your powers give you a capacity for cruelty that you don't possess without them."

She stared at him knowingly and managed a small smile. "They are also capable of acts of love, as you found out tonight."

He looked at her with surprise. "You!" he announced. "It was you who destroyed Nicholas."

Her smile broadened and she tilted her head as if in a slight bow. "Yes. He can be so careless, at times."

"And the Mask?" he asked.

"Safely hidden," she told him smugly.

He gave her a significant look, as if she had just proved his point. "And was Nicholas' destruction and act of love for me or revenge for yourself?"

"Both," she responded unhesitatingly. "Had I not dealt with him you and Julia would be dead...and I would have been denied the opportunity to give him the fate he so richly deserves."

Her hatred for Nicholas was clearly evident on her face. A familiar look, one that he had seen there for him in the past. He moved closer and asked once again, " Why have you come back? To regain the Mask for your own uses?"

She looked at him, hurt by the accusatory tone of his voice; the distrust that had returned to his face. Her own anger flared but she forced it under control. No, she must not be pulled into petty arguments. There was too much to be done.

"All will be made clear to you, Barnabas...in time." She gave him one of her most aggravating smiles. He was about to continue his questions but before he could say anything else she placed her hand on his chest once again as if to silence him. "We'll see one another again, very soon. But right now you have other problems to deal with."

With a small sense of shame he remembered the reason he had come to this house. Elliot's body lie in the basement. The authorities would have to be notified. He looked at Angelique and she could almost read the thoughts in his mind.

"I could not help Stokes," she told him. "I truly wish I could have. I rather admired his...tenacity."

Barnabas saw with pleasant surprise that she appeared sincere in this

regret. He left her side and headed for the hallway, taking a moment at the door to look back at her. "Will you be here when I return?"

"No," she told him assuredly. "But we'll see each other again very soon."

 

It was pointless to question her further. He had seen that determined look and recognized the tone of her voice. There would be no further information forthcoming from her now. For the time being, he would have to take her at her word.

As he walked down the stairs to the basement he realized it was not something he could do very easily.

(Book 4)

CHAPTER ONE

 

Angelique took a step backward on the sandy beach, unsure of her footing, unsure suddenly of everything. She stared in disbelief at the figure in front of her, his features becoming more clear to her despite the darkness.

Panic seized her as Judah moved closer. "Don't come near me!" she told him, unable to keep the terror that she felt out of her voice. But hearing the fear seemed somehow to strengthen her and she slowly stopped retreating and desperately tried to calm herself. She stared at the visage in front of her and quietly focused her mind and emotions.

It could not be Judah. She had seen him destroyed; had watched as his severed head withered to a skull. Somehow someone had summoned his spirit in order to throw her off balance, for whatever reason. With determination, she lifted her hands and pointed at the advancing figure.

"Go back to your grave, spirit of Judah Zachary. You have no power here. Go back to the pits of Hell from whence you came!"

The form stopped and for the briefest of moments stared at her in surprise. Then his malevolent laughter echoed on the beach, drowning out even the roar of the waves crashing on the rocks.

"Don't be a fool, Miranda," Judah glared as he reached out and grabbed her harshly by the wrist. She gasped in pain at the strength of his grip. "I am no spirit. And as for power, as always, mine shall forever dwarf your own."

She tried to pull away but his grip was unmercifully strong, and the

more she struggled his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her wrist. Looking up, she stared into his dark eyes, eyes which had once corrupted and seduced her, and knew that it was he. Hatred struggled with fear as she found her voice. "Let go of me!"

He tightened his grasp for a moment, relishing the brief sense of control, before he released her, surprised to find that she did not flinch. Instead, she held his gaze, her mouth tight with anger, her large eyes burning bright with malice. It was a sight which pleased him.

"Ever the defiant one," Judah said with a crooked smile. "I have always admired that trait in you, Miranda."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice showing no trace of the fear that was within her. "How have you come back?" She focused only on her anger and hatred for this man and was surprised to note how quickly it pushed away anything else she felt.

"How I have come back is a rather naive question, don't you think?" he said knowingly. "I have always been a favorite of the Master. And as for why, I've already told you -- to regain that which is mine."

A grumbling roll of thunder resounded over the ocean, momentarily distracting Angelique. Judah turned his attention to the sky as a bolt of lightening lit up the night, the wind whipping his long thinning hair about his face.

"But this is not the place for reunions, my dear," Judah told her sarcastically. "Let us continue this discussion in the house from which you just came." He turned away from her and took several steps toward the rocky path that lead to the cliffs before looking back. She had not moved from the beach. Judah looked at her, his gaze harsh, his voice firm. "Come with me, Miranda," he commanded.

She hesitated, anxiously wondering if she dared defy him. He seemed

to read her thoughts and cautioned her against any rash actions. "Do not think that you have the power to defeat me, my dear. Even if you were not weakened from your recent battle I still possess more than enough power to best you." His face clouded with irritation "Try my patience no further. Come."

So sure of himself, he did not even bother to look back as he continued on toward the path. He knew she would follow. And despite her best effort, a part of herself responded to his voice, a part she thought she had silenced long ago. She stared after him and felt the hatred grow. Hatred at him for his commands -- and at herself for listening and believing him.

Slowly she followed him up the path.

"Perhaps he'll be calmer when he wakes," Barnabas offered hopefully as he removed his caped coat and hung it on the stand. Julia shook her head doubtfully as she closed the front door to the Old House. "I wouldn't be too optimistic, Barnabas," she told him. "Joe was severely traumatized, first at falling under the influence of Petofi, which had to reawaken a lot of old fears; and then at actually seeing Angelique again." She seemed thoughtful for a moment, as if looking for some glimmer of hope that they could cling to, but once again shook her head. "I'm afraid it may have done him irreparable harm."

"Well, we won't know anything until we go up and see him," Barnabas told her as he reached out and placed a hand on the banister. He looked up at the landing, a worried expression on his weary face and began steadily climbing the stairs.

Julia followed close behind, taking only a moment to set her purse on the small side table by the stairs. "He should still be asleep after the sedative I gave him. It will be some time yet before it wears off."

Barnabas did not answer, ignoring the implication in her words that it

would be pointless to check on Joe now. Julia recognized the determined look on his face and knew it would be equally pointless to try and stop him.

Barnabas hesitated a moment once he reached the door to Josette's room, and waited for Julia to catch up to him. "We must do something to help Haskell," he told her.

"We will, Barnabas," Julia told him. "But first we have to know exactly what we're dealing with -- and that will take some time."

Barnabas nodded that he understood and turned the key in the lock. As he stepped into the room he couldn't help but be shocked at the sight which greeted them. His barely audible gasp was enough to signal to Julia that something had taken him by surprise. She moved past him into the room, her heart sinking as she saw the very thing that she feared.

Joe Haskell sat in the middle of the bed, knees pulled up to his chin, a look of abject terror on his face. As the two moved across the room to stand by the side of the bed he gradually moved back to the furthest corner by the headboard, a vain attempt to get as far away as possible from them.

Barnabas looked helplessly to Julia, realizing that he was out of his element. Julia nodded slightly and motioned for Barnabas to step back a bit and then she slowly and deliberately sat down on the edge of the bed so as not to stand over Joe.

"Joe," she began calmly, her voice even and pleasant. "Joe, it's Julia Hoffman. Do you recognize me?"

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide and full of panic, before cautiously nodding his head.

"Good," Julia said pleasantly. "And this is Barnabas. You remember Barnabas, don't you?"

Joe's gaze shifted quickly to Barnabas and his eyes seemed to grow even wider. "I know him," he managed weakly.

"Good," Julia said, pleased at the verbal response. At least he hadn't reverted to a catatonic state. "We want to help you, Joe. Barnabas and I are your friends."

He looked from one of them to the other and Julia clearly saw the doubt in his eyes.

"Everything will be fine, Joe," Julia told him. "We're going to get you the help you need."

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked suspiciously. He backed away from Julia, his panic growing more apparent. "Are you going to send me back to Wyndecliffe? I won't go back there! I'll die before I go back there!"

Julia shook her head reassuringly. "We're not going to send you anywhere you don't want to go." With practiced ease she had made the lie sound believable. Somehow she had to convince him that Wyndecliffe was the best place for him -- a task of which she wasn't sure she was capable.

"I won't go back there!" he repeated, looking now directly at Barnabas.

"We want to help you, Joe," Barnabas offered uncomfortably. Joe smiled crazily and shook his head. "You can't help me. No one can help me -- but especially not you."

Barnabas' brow furrowed. "Why can't I help you?" he asked curiously.

"You brought her here," Joe told him, his voice changing to a whisper. "You're why she came back."

"Who do you mean, Joe?" Julia asked, knowing fully well to whom he was referring. But it was a topic which had to be addressed sooner or later. His response would tell her a great deal about what to do next.

He looked at Julia shrewdly. "You know who."

"Why don't you tell me," she said in her best professional tone.

"Angelique," he whispered. He looked past them both, as if at some unseen spectre, a look of longing and terror mixing in his eyes -- until finally the terror won.

Julia watched as his panic increased and quickly offered their explanation. "You mean Mrs. Rumson?"

Joe looked at her sharply, as if aware of some trick. "Her name is Angelique...but she's not an angel." He spat out the next words with hatred. "She's a devil. A devil from Hell."

Barnabas stepped forward. "I think you're confusing Mrs. Rumson with someone else," he offered.

Joe, not falling for the deception, quickly swung his legs off the opposite side of the bed and stared at the two of them tensely, as if ready for a fight.

"Where is she?" he asked angrily.

"Mrs. Rumson has gone," Julia offered quickly as she stood up from the bed. "She's gone away."

"You're lying to me," Joe accused. "I know she's still here."

"You're mistaken," Barnabas began, but Joe cut him off.

"I am not mistaken!" he screamed. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, trying to shut out some painful memory. "Those eyes... I could never forget those eyes."

"Joe, please..." Julia began, but before she could finish he had come around the bed to stand before them, the fear and panic he had felt now having been replaced with fury.

"You're the reason she's here!" he blamed as he pointed at Barnabas. "She'll always come back as long as you're here!"

Julia realized the situation was quickly getting out of hand and moved quietly to the vanity and her medical bag while Joe focused his attention on Barnabas.

"Joe, you don't understand," Barnabas began feebly as he tried to distract the other man while Julia prepared the hypodermic. "Mrs. Rumson was here visiting but she's gone now. She won't be back. You've nothing to fear from her or from any of us."

"Liar!" Joe yelled. "She's dead, just like you! She's dead but she comes to life at night and feeds on people! Just like you do!"

Joe lunged at Barnabas, his tortured mind no longer able to contain his anger as he reached for Barnabas' throat. "You're the one she wants! She doesn't care who she destroys! I can't kill her but I'll kill you!"

Barnabas grasped the crazed man's hands and with an effort pulled them away from his throat. Haskell was obviously still weakened from the sedative Julia had given him earlier, but even so his insanity fueled strength still proved to be a close match to Barnabas' own. With great difficulty he managed to twist one of Joe's arms behind his back and

hold him relatively still.

Julia hurried across the room, holding the hypodermic up to the light, as she made a final last check that she was using the correct dosage. Joe saw her coming and renewed his struggles, but Barnabas' grip was too tight and he could only watch helplessly as Julia rolled up his sleeve and jabbed the needle into his vein.

"You can't make me forget!" he screamed. "I never forgot what happened to me...or what you did to us!"

He felt the drug burning in his arm as it raced through his body. His struggles grew less and his head felt heavy and weak as it slumped to his chest, but still he fought to remain conscious. With an effort he threw his head back and screamed out for the one person who could help him.

With Maggie's name echoing in their ears, Joe slumped into unconsciousness in Barnabas' arms. He placed the still form of the young man on the bed and turned anxiously to Julia, a worried expression on his face, and although he said nothing, Julia could see the question in his eyes.

What were they going to do now?

Quentin walked into the drawing room intent on having a nightcap and was surprised -- and pleased -- to find Vicki staring out the window; so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him enter the room. He watched her silently for a moment to see what exactly it was that so held her interest. As he had suspected, she was merely watching the ocean as the waves moved rhythmically across the sands, the sound a steady, comforting cadence.

He marvelled at her strength and resilience. She had been through shock and revelations one after another, and though troubled and

confused, she remained accepting and adaptable. Those were qualities that he had found very attractive.

Vicki sensed that someone else was in the room and tilted her head slightly to see that it was Quentin. She looked back out at the ocean, not feeling the need to hide her somber mood from him. They stood their quietly for some time before she finally broke the silence.

"The sound of the ocean is always the same, no matter what century," she said finally, acknowledging his presence.

"Yes," he said softly, understanding her completely. "It's one of the few constants in this world."

She turned from the window now, drawn by the compassion of his tone, and she saw that somehow he knew exactly the sense of loss she was feeling. Loss and comfort.

"If I were to close my eyes right now," she told him, closing her eyes as she spoke. "Listening to the sound of those waves, I could be anywhere...anytime."

"And where would you choose to be?" Quentin asked her tenderly.

She hesitated for a moment, lost in the emotions that flooded over her. She remembered all the years she had stood at this window, as mistress of the house. It was where she was always drawn to, in good times or bad. Her mind filled with memories of that life, as wife and mother. And then another time, hiding out in this room, the wood and paint fresh and new. She had been frightened and alone then...until she had met Peter. But he was gone now too, washed away by even more years.

"Where I am today," she finally answered, opening her eyes.

"You don't have to be brave with me," Quentin told her as he moved closer, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her arm.

Vicki smiled softly. "I don't feel particularly brave," she told him honestly. "And I know I don't have to pretend anything with you." She looked about the room and shook her head. "And you don't know what a nice feeling that is...to not have to hide the truth."

"I can only imagine," Quentin told her honestly.

She turned and looked at him, and thought she detected a note of some double meaning in his words. She knew very little about this man but somehow it didn't seem to matter. She trusted him completely.

"It's just that it's so difficult..."

"Being around Elizabeth and Roger?" he supplied.

"Yes," she admitted. "And no. It's wonderful to be here with them, to see them, to talk to them. But I feel like I'm living such a lie."

"It was your decision not to tell them the truth," Quentin reminded her.

"I know," she acknowledged. "I'm just not ready for that yet. I need to sort out some things for myself first."

"I can understand that," Quentin told her.

"You really can, can't you?" Vicki asked him. "You do have some idea of how difficult it is for me to keep up this pretense?"

Quentin didn't answer at first, not knowing what to say without incriminating himself. Yes. He knew what it was to live a lie. He had been doing it for decades.

"I know," he finally managed, as he walked to the liquor cabinet. "I

was about to have a drink. Let me get you one, too."

She wanted to question him further on the subject but saw his evasiveness as answer enough. Obviously there were some things Quentin didn't feel comfortable discussing too deeply. Looking at him now she saw for the first time how tired he looked.

"You look exhausted," she told him as they both sat down on the sofa.

"It's been an...intense evening," Quentin offered with a faint smile.

"Am I suppose to ask what that means?" Vicki said, matching his expression. "Or is that something else you'd rather not discuss."

He was surprised at her intuitiveness and saw no reason not to tell her the truth. At least they could share this honestly.

"It has to do with Petofi. I saw him tonight."

"Here?" Vicki asked, shocked. Quentin shook his head in agreement. "But I thought he was...gone...after you fought with him on the stairway."

"I did too," Quentin acknowledged. "But unfortunately, Petofi proved rather difficult to deal with then. Somehow he managed to find his way back to the staircase and he came to this time."

Vicki grew tense and sat her drink down on the coffee table. "What are we going to do?"

Quentin reached out and touched her shoulder. "It's all right. We've already taken care of Petofi."

Vicki relaxed somewhat but was still visibly upset by this news. "Who is `we' and what do you mean you've already taken care of him?"

"`We' is Barnabas, Julia and myself," Quentin told her. He saw no need to mention Angelique. That would only complicate matters at this point. He noted how easy it was for him to edit the truth to fit his needs and, not for the first time lately, it troubled him. "And I mean that Petofi will not trouble anyone again. He's dead."

"Dead," Vicki repeated, shocked. "How? What happened?"

"It's a long story, one I'd really rather not get into right now if you don't mind. Just know that you don't have to fear anything from Petofi again."

Vicki settled back on the sofa and tried to comprehend all that he'd told her. Then she remembered something that she had wanted to ask him before. "Quentin, when you found me in the past, you and Petofi recognized one another. Had you met him before?"

Quentin grew uneasy, not knowing how to answer. He hesitated a moment before finally answering. "Yes. Yes, we had met before."

Vicki sat up again, fascinated by this bit of information. "But how? When could you have met him? And what did he mean when he said your portrait was still intact?"

Quentin stood up abruptly and drained his glass. "I'd really rather we didn't get into this tonight, Vicki."

Surprised by his reaction she slowly stood up as well, never taking her eyes off of him. "Alright," she managed suspiciously. Obviously there was some connection between he and Petofi that Quentin didn't want revealed. "Another time."

Quentin tried to regain some of his composure. "It's nothing, really," he lied. And what made it worse was that he knew that she could see it

was a lie.

They looked at one another knowingly, and at that moment they both heard the clicking sound of footfalls. Breaking from Vicki's questioning eyes, Quentin saw Carolyn enter the drawing room, a stack of books in her hands. He couldn't remember ever being so grateful to see someone enter a room.

Carolyn looked from one to the other and immediately sensed that she had interrupted something between the two. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't know anyone was in the room." She turned to start to leave when Vicki called out to her.

"It's alright, Carolyn," Vicki explained. "I was just going up to bed." She turned back to Quentin. "Thank you for the nightcap. I think I'll be able to sleep now."

Carolyn, who had taken the opportunity to deposit the load of books on the desk, turned to her sister. "Are you sure you don't want to stay up and talk for a little while?"

"Tomorrow," Vicki promised. "I'm really very tired right now."

Carolyn smiled awkwardly. "Tomorrow then." She watched as Vicki left the room and quietly climbed the stairs. When she heard the door close on the upstairs landing she turned back to Quentin, a somewhat guilty expression on her face. "I'm having a hard time getting used to how Vicki has changed. Just a few weeks ago she wasn't that much older than me, and now..."

"She's still the same woman," Quentin offered.

"No. No she isn't," Carolyn told him. "She's different somehow. I suppose it's just that she's had almost ten years of experiences since

Nicholas did whatever it was he did to her."

"That would be enough to change anyone," Quentin pointed out. "But basically, I think she's the same. Just older and wiser."

"The two of you seem to be getting rather close," Carolyn teased.

Quentin frowned at her. Had she sensed that from him or Vicki? "Now don't go and make something out of nothing," he cautioned.

Carolyn could see that the idea was not new to him. "I approve," she assured her cousin.

Quentin ignored her attempts at luring him into a discussion about Vicki and looked over her shoulder at the books on the desk. "You look as if you're planning on doing a little reading. Or a lot, actually."

"I've finished with these," Carolyn told him, all hint of playfulness gone from her voice now. "They were Professor Stokes. He'd loaned them to me before...before he died. I was just going to take them to the study, but they got a little heavy for me."

Quentin glanced at the titles as he thumbed through one volume. "These are all books on the occult," he said with a hint of a smile.

"It's a subject that I'm finding more and more fascinating," she told him. "With everything that's happened in this house lately, I think it makes sense to educate yourself. You of all people should know the value of that."

He nodded in agreement. "But not everyone will think your studies are particularly valuable." It was an odd contrast between his discussion now with Carolyn and the one he'd just had with Vicki. Carolyn knew the truth about him -- or at least part of it -- and it didn't seem to phase her in the least. She still accepted him, if anything, they were closer

now than ever.

But then, she didn't know the whole truth. The horrors he'd experienced -- or participated in. But there was no reason for her to know everything.

So wasn't one lie just as bad as the other?

"Quentin, did I say something to offend you?" Carolyn asked, looking up into his eyes with a worried expression on her face. "I didn't mean to make light of the situation."

"No, you didn't say anything to offend me, Carolyn," he assured her as he walked to the cabinet and poured himself another glass of scotch. "I was merely contemplating the merit of truth, and the fine line between omission and another lie."

Julia, medical bag in hand, hesitated on the stairs for a moment and watched pensively as Barnabas slowly paced in front of the fireplace. She had given Joe enough of a sedative to keep him out well into the next morning. She hoped to get a few hours sleep herself tonight. Things had been moving too fast recently and she was nearing exhaustion. But there was one more matter to deal with before she could go back to Collinwood and get the rest that her body was beginning to demand she obtain.

"How is he?" Barnabas asked as she walked into the room.

"You saw him," she said rather curtly. "You saw the state he was in."

"Did your examination not reveal anything?" Barnabas wondered anxiously.

"Only that he is very nearly as disturbed now as he was when he first went to Wyndecliffe," Julia told him. "He should never have been

released."

"Then why was he?" Barnabas asked. "You said it wasn't done with your knowledge. Who gave the authority do let him out?"

"A young doctor with very different ideas from my own."

"How could this happen?" he wondered.

"It happened, Barnabas, because I haven't been spending enough time at my own hospital to supervise the staff, much less my own patience," Julia snapped. Upon seeing the shocked expression on his face she was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. That was...uncalled for. It certainly isn't your fault that my career is in a shambles."

Now it was his turn to make amends. "In a way it is," he admitted. "I turn to you for help so often. I'm ashamed to say I haven't really thought about what you've been giving up. All the time you spend here...it must put a terrible strain on your career."

Julia shook her head, a little embarrassed at the turn the conversation had taken. She must be more tired than she realized. "It does. But the decision to be here has always been my own. I take full responsibility for them."

"Julia," Barnabas began, his concern for her evident. "I'm sorry, I never...."

"It doesn't matter now," Julia said, cutting him off. "We have a more pressing problem than what faces me back at Wyndecliffe."

Barnabas looked toward the stairs. "I suppose you are right." Obviously she didn't want to discuss her own problems any further. He would allow her that privilege for now, but it was a subject that he would not forget. And somehow he felt it tied in with another talk

which they had put off for far too long.

"Haskell knows too much," he said finally.

Julia felt a slight chill pass over her with his words. She had heard similar ones spoken by him before, but as she looked at him now she saw none of the coldness that had been there then. Her head throbbed painfully. She was more tired than even she had realized if she was allowing herself to think that far back.

"The question is, what do we do about it?" she asked.

"What about your medallion?" Barnabas suggested. "Could you use it on Haskell? Make him forget about Angelique...and me."

Julia silently thought for a moment as she paced back and forth, a tense look on her face. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Barnabas wanted to know. "You've used it in the past with some success."

"Yes, but never in a situation quite like this," Julia explained. "Joe is terribly suspicious of us. In order for the medallion to have any effect the subject should feel some sense of trust in me. Joe would be too on guard, I'm afraid."

"Still we must do something," Barnabas told her. "We can't just let Haskell walk out of here in the state of mind he's in."

"I've no intention of letting him walk anywhere," Julia told him testily.

"What about Wyndecliffe then?" Barnabas offered. "Could you have him admitted again?"

"Of course," Julia told him. "But I'm not certain that is in Joe's best

interest."

Barnabas moved past her and toward the mantel. "Right now I'm thinking more of my own best interest. If Haskell starts talking, someone might listen."

"They would hear the ramblings of a madman, Barnabas," Julia consoled. "You know that."

"Perhaps," Barnabas said. "But what if someone started checking out his story."

"Joe's story is no longer accurate," Julia told him wearily. "You are no longer what you were. And for that matter, neither is Angelique. If anyone did listen to him it would be simple to disprove."

"Angelique," Barnabas muttered angrily. "She is partially to blame for this situation. If she hadn't confronted Haskell when he came here we wouldn't be having to decide now what to do with him."

"If it hadn't been for Angelique we wouldn't be alive right now to be discussing what to do with Joe," Julia pointed out.

Barnabas seemed surprised by her attitude. "You're defending her actions?"

"Not entirely, no," Julia conceded. "I'm just trying not to loose sight of what she did for us. For everyone at Collinwood, for that matter."

"She seemed to find some perverse pleasure in encountering Haskell," Barnabas continued, unable to let go of the topic. "She must have known what seeing her again would do to him."

"Perhaps not," Julia offered. "Perhaps she didn't know it would throw him back into insanity." She wanted to believe that was the case.

Despite all the things they had suffered throughout the years at her hands, Julia had developed a strange relationship with the other woman. She had to admit that she held a certain respect for her -- especially after learning of the sacrifice that Angelique was willing to make to save their lives. For whatever reason, Angelique had chosen not to tell Barnabas of that choice, and Julia had every intention of honoring that decision.

"Whether she knew or not is irrelevant to the situation at hand," Barnabas said hotly. "What are we going to do with him?"

"For the moment, nothing," Julia told him.

"Nothing?" Barnabas asked, incredulous.

"Not until morning," Julia continued. "I've given him enough of a sedative to last until late tomorrow morning at the very earliest. We can decide tomorrow what the best course of action would be. Right now I'm too tired to make any rational decisions."

Slightly mystified by her behavior, Barnabas reluctantly agreed to her resolution. "Alright, Julia. We'll postpone what to do with Haskell until the morning. I'll walk with you back to Collinwood."

"There's no need," she told him. "My car is outside, remember."

"Of course," he said. "Perhaps I'm more tired than I realized, too."

"A good night's sleep won't hurt either one of us," she told him as she walked to the foyer and opened the door.

"Julia. Don't let your gratitude for Angelique cloud your judgement," he cautioned. "I, too, am grateful to her for saving us from Petofi. But don't forget that she has used the Mask of Baal in that struggle. The temptation of such power opens her up to the dark side of her nature

once again. She may well prove to be more of a threat than Petofi himself."

"I'm aware of that Barnabas," Julia told him wearily, not wanting to think of the possibility. She managed to muster a friendly `Goodnight' before stepping outside and closing the door, leaving Barnabas to his own feelings and fears.

It was well past 2:00 a.m. when the call came that woke George Patterson out of a sound sleep. From the frantic message of the dispatcher, he had pretty well prepared himself for the sight that would greet him upon arriving on the lonely stretch of road that lead to Findley's Cove.

As he rounded the bend he saw the pulsating red and blue lights from his deputy's car. Perhaps fifteen feet away there was an old '63 Ford Galaxie parked at the edge of the cliff. Teenagers and young lovers, he thought. This had long been one of their favorite spots. Remote and quiet, with beautiful scenery on a clear night, with the hopes of a clear shot at making out in the back seat.

His deputies patrolled the area on a semi-regular basis. Shining flashlights into backseats and cautioning the patrons of this lovers' lane to go home and take a cold shower before they did anything foolish.

He saw the ashen-white face of his new deputy in the headlights. Farrel Grigsby leaned against his squad car as his partner, Bill Newsome walked toward the Sheriff's car.

"Sorry to have to wake you, George," Bill apologized. "But I knew you'd probably want to see this for yourself."

George Patterson nodded his agreement and walked over to the old car. "Farrel, let me see your flashlight," Patterson ordered, leaning over the trunk to take it from the other man. Grigsby numbly handed him the

light and tried to regain his composure.

"I've never seen nothing like that, Sheriff," the young deputy said. "I've pulled dead people out of car crashes, but I have never seen nothing like that."

Patterson took the light and flashed it into the interior of the car. There, the torn and bloodied body of what had once been a man lay sprawled across the front and backseat, his throat ripped open so widely that it appeared that the head was nearly decapitated.

"I've seen something like it," Patterson told his deputies. "Although I'd hoped never to see anything like it again." It had been nearly a year since the last attack like this in the village and when the killings had stopped he had hoped that the perpetrator had left the county -- if not the state. But it appeared they were back, if indeed they'd ever left.

"There's another one over that way about twenty yards or so," Deputy Newsome told his boss. "A girl. Looks like she was trying to get away and whoever...or whatever...did this caught up to her."

George Patterson pushed his hat back and leaned against the patrol car and made a silent vow.

This time he'd catch the person responsible for this.

(Book 5)

CHAPTER ONE

 

Judah Zachary's malevolent laughter filled Collinwood's foyer as he stared down at the lifeless form at his feet. Julia was at Barnabas' side in an instant, turning his body over as she automatically felt for a pulse. Even as her fingers pressed against his wrist she knew it was a futile effort.

"Julia! What's happened?" Elizabeth exclaimed in shock.

On the stairs, Victoria watched in mute disbelief at the events that had just unfolded, but she made no sound. Her hand was raised to her mouth as if to silence the tumult of emotions that were at battle within. At first she could only stare at the prone form on the floor, and although her first impulse was to run to his side some unseen force seemed to immobilize her. Slowly her gaze left Barnabas and turned to the tall stranger at the foot of the stairs. The stranger who had just announced that he was her father.

Julia slowly lowered Barnabas' arm and an audible gasp escaped her lips. Eyes wide with shock, she struggled to find the words. "He... he's...dead!"

"No!" Liz cried. "He can't be!"

"...he's dead..." Julia repeated in a whisper, staring off into space, looking at no one.

"I'll call an ambulance," Elizabeth announced and she took a step toward the phone on the foyer table.

Julia took a deep breath and shook her head. "It won't do any good," she said, her voice barren and far away. "It's too late..."

Liz hesitated only a moment, her gaze going from Julia to the man standing by the stairs. "The sheriff then," she said determinedly as she reached for the receiver.

"Put the telephone down, Elizabeth," Judah commanded, his voice strong and compelling.

Liz looked up sharply. She was not accustomed to being told what to do under any circumstances. She looked into the eyes of the man at her side, her mind racing for an appropriate response. Astounded, she found that she was slowly putting the receiver back on its cradle. "But...he needs help..." she managed, surprised at the almost pleading tone in her voice.

"There is no help for him now," Judah told her, and somehow his voice seemed to calm her.

Still crouched on the floor by Barnabas, Julia watched in silence. Elizabeth's entire demeanor changed as she quietly fell under the warlock's control.

As Liz removed her hand from the phone, Judah returned his dark gaze to Vicki where she stood waiting on the stairs. Her hand gradually fell to her side as something deep within her stirred and slowly rose from her subconscious.

"Come, Victoria. The time for our reunion is at last at hand," Judah told her as he extended his arm.

She hesitated for only a moment, as some last vestige of her free will tried to resist him, tried to force herself to look away from this strange man. She knew that if she did as he asked her life would never be the

same. But some force beyond her reasoning seemed in control and even as a part of her screamed in silent protest, she found herself slowly walking down the stairs and a moment later she was stepping onto the parquet floor. All the while she could not take her eyes from him, and as she came to his side she placed her hand in his. A sensation like none she had ever experienced filled Vicki's body at his touch and a current seemed to pass between them as an unholy union was formed.

She never once looked down at Barnabas' body.

"Come, both of you. Into the drawing room," Judah told his former lover and their daughter. "There is much to be done." He guided them both toward the double doors of the drawing room, ignoring Julia completely.

"You'll pay for what you've done here tonight," Julia spat, her jaw firm with rage as she stood to face him.

Judah merely stared at her for a moment, an evil grin on his face. He made no response to her threat and merely closed the doors in her face as if she were nothing.

She turned and looked down at Barnabas and her anger instantly transformed to grief. With halting steps she walked back to where he lay and slowly bent down. A wave of despair and hopelessness crested and washed over her. Judah was right. Without him she was nothing.

Gently she cradled his head in her arms and softly began to cry.

* * * * * *

Angelique nervously paced in front of the mantel in the drawing room of the Old House, pausing only long enough to look at the clock as it chimed the half hour. It served only to remind her that Barnabas had

left the house over an hour and a half ago, promising to return shortly. She tried to convince herself that he hadn't been gone that long but a feeling of uneasiness had been growing within her all night; a sense of foreboding that seemed to gain a stronger foothold with each passing minute.

So much had happened these last few weeks for her, and danger seemed to be at every turn. Danger...and temptation.

Her journey to this time had been successful, for she had changed history, this time defeating Petofi by accepting the power of the Mask of Baal. But that victory had carried with it a price. Even though she no longer possessed the Mask, she remembered only too well the thrill of its dark power as it called out to hungers and passions within her soul. No one who used the Mask was left unscathed, for eventually it consumed them with its evil, allowing them to be one with its Maker.

She realized long ago that the remnants of her humanity were her only hope of ever keeping Barnabas. Although she had no intention of giving up her powers, neither would she give up that part of her self which allowed her to remain, first and foremost, a woman.

But the Mask had awakened old enticements and a part of her longed to possess it once again. But that seemed highly unlikely. Judah had regained the Mask and it was extremely doubtful that its power was something he would share with anyone. For that, at least, she could be thankful.

At least, she wanted to believe that was the way she felt.

For what seemed the hundredth time, she went to the window and pulled back the white lace sheer and looked out into the night. As all the previous times, there was nothing to see except the moonlit landscaped gardens and lawn of the Old House.

From somewhere within the house a creaking sound came to her ears and for a moment she seemed startled. But she quickly realized it was merely one of the many natural noises associated with this old mansion. Still, it merely underscored how on edge she felt.

She looked about the drawing room looking for something to distract her but found instead a flood of memories. How many times had she stood in this room, under various circumstances? And in how many different roles? Wife. Mistress. Enemy. She had been all of these things and more. And this house had been witness to much of her history, always pulling her back.

No. Not the house but rather the master of the house. She was bound to Barnabas -- throughout eternity. She had known that for some time, and now, thanks to her powers, tonight he was aware of it too.

But what would he do with that information? After she had shown him a portion of their life together in 1692 he had been moved, of that she was certain. But would the revelation that he had loved her in a previous life draw him closer to her or have some unforeseen repercussion?

It didn't matter. She had shown him the past in hopes that he would realize the danger he faced with Judah in order to convince him to leave Collinsport. But instead, it had only seemed to fuel Barnabas' decision to confront the warlock.

Normally she preferred solitude, but as her anxiety grew so did her desire to be near someone. It was a decidedly human feeling, she thought to herself. What a pity there was no one with whom she could share that thought...even if she wasn't alone in the house.

No, that wasn't entirely true. If she were here, Julia would be the one person she could confide in. And surprisingly, she knew Julia would

believe her.

It had been a very long time since she'd had a friend.

Another sign of her humanity, she thought ruefully. Perhaps Barnabas might see some hope for her after all.

She tensed, suddenly aware that she was no longer alone. The air in the room seemed to stir ever so slightly, as if charged by some form of energy or presence. She looked about the room sharply, her blue eyes darting from corner to corner, trying to see who or what had joined her.

"There is someone in this room," she announced. As if in answer, the chandelier above her began to weave slightly, the tinkling sound of the crystal filling the room.

"Whoever you are, " she commanded, her voice strong and without fear, "reveal yourself to me."

And then she was enveloped in the entity as the very essence of the spirit engulfed her, causing her flesh to tingle and her mind to be filled with its presence...a presence that was familiar and full of melancholy. She closed her eyes, overcome by the experience...

And then, just as suddenly, it vanished.

Angelique's eyes opened wide with fear and her face twisted with grief as the realization struck her. "Barnabas!" she cried out in anguish. Her hand went to her mouth in a futile effort to stop the wail which followed. "No!"

There was no mistaking who the spirit had been. Her worst fears had been realized.

He was dead.

But before she could give in fully to her grief, the sound of the front door opening came to her. She hurried toward the entranceway, knowing that it was foolishness....that it couldn't possibly be him....

Willie stood just inside the door, his hand still on the handle, as Angelique rounded the pillar to stare at him.

"You!" she said, crestfallen.

Willie tensed immediately. He had never been comfortable around this woman and he never would be. "What is it? What's wrong?" he finally managed.

"Never mind," Angelique barked as she pushed past him and opened the door. "Come with me."

"Come with you?" Willie repeated. "What's goin' on? What's wrong?"

"There isn't time to try to explain it to you, Willie," she told him curtly. "Just do as I say."

"Well, where...where we goin'?"

"To Collinwood," she called out over her shoulder as she descended the steps. A moment later she was heading for the path that led through the woods to the great house. Willie looked inside the foyer for a brief instant as if to find someone who could extricate him from the task, but the sound of her voice calling his name cut through the night air and he knew there was no escape. He slammed the door and hurried down the steps after her

* * * * * *

On the path, less than ten feet in front of Quentin and Carolyn, the man that had called himself Cyrus Carrington glared at them evilly...and then transformed. Where a man in his sixties had been standing there was now the snarling form of a werewolf, crouching -- preparing to attack.

Carolyn's shrill scream filled the night as she backed away from the creature. Quentin once again quickly glanced about the clearing in search of a something he could use as a weapon...and found nothing.

The beast uttered a low, guttural growl as it took several tentative steps forward.

Carolyn screamed once again and despite himself, Quentin took his eyes off of the werewolf long enough to look in her direction.

And saw a silver cross dangling around her neck.

In a flash he reached over and grabbed the slender chain and jerked. The clasp gave way easily and by the time Carolyn had put her hand to her throat the cross was in Quentin's hands.

He brandished the silver crucifix like a weapon, a smile spreading across his face. The werewolf, now no more than five feet from them, stood transfixed and for a moment was unable to take its eyes from the pendant. In a bold move, Quentin stepped forward, pushing the necklace in the werewolf's face, actually grazing its snout with the holy symbol.

The creature howled in agony and stumbled backward. Quentin took the initiative and moved forward, swinging the cross on its chain.

"Let us pass, or so help me I'll tie this around your neck!" Quentin threatened.

A snarling growl which bordered on a bark escaped the werewolf's mouth as he bared his wet, glistening fangs at Quentin.

An instant latter he bounded into the underbrush and was gone.

Quentin watched after it for several moments to ensure that it had truly retreated. From some distance he heard the sound of padded feet threading through the undergrowth. Satisfied that the imminent danger was past, he turned his attention back to Carolyn. She had backed away from the scene and was leaning against a small maple tree, her hands still clutching at her throat.

"It was the same creature that killed poor Dorcas!" she cried. "Dorcas..." Quentin repeated numbly. It had happened again. Carolyn was gone -- replaced by some past life incarnation. And it wasn't very difficult to deduce who it was this time.

"Father must make the sheriff do something!" she continued, half sobbing, her chin quivering. "That monster must be destroyed! Thank the Lord that I was wearing my cross. It seemed terrified of it."

Quentin stared at her for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say. And as was his habit, sarcasm sufficed. "Yes, Charity...by all means, thank the Lord but don't thank me." He reached out and took her by the arm. "Now let's get out of here before our friend returns. We're not too far from the Old House."

With that, he hurried them down the path. Nearby, the mournful howl of the creature pierced the cool night air.

* * * * * *

"I don't understand any of this," Elizabeth said, almost to herself. She turned and looked at Judah as he closed the drawing room doors.

"How can you be here?"

He strode across the room to join her as Vicki watched from where she stood behind the sofa. "Because this is where I am supposed to be," he told her, playfully caressing her chin.

Sluggishly, Liz pulled away from his touch, a look of disgust on her face. She tried to focus her thoughts but for reasons she couldn't understand she was having a difficult time thinking. Shock. Perhaps she was in shock. No. Not shock. He did something to her. With his voice. That's why she couldn't think. But that thought skipped away as quickly as it came, lost in the swirling tumult of confusion that now blanketed her mind.

Vicki stood, unmoving, and silently stared at the man in front of her. Judah turned from Liz and looked across the room at his daughter.

"You believe that this is where I am supposed to be, don't you my dear?" He smiled at her, a triumphant look on his face.

"...Yes," Vicki answered. Her voice sounded far away and strange to her. As if it belonged to someone else.

Liz watched the interaction between them and a sense of panic grew within her. Her brow knitted as she tried to concentrate. And then, for a moment, her thoughts cleared.

"Barnabas!" she exclaimed. "You did something to him -- you made him die!"

Judah turned his attention back to Elizabeth, a look of mild surprise on his face. The spell he had cast should have prevented her from being so...focused. But that was an easy enough matter to rectify. He walked to her side once again, his gaze intent. She looked up at him, and

became lost in his dark eyes, unable to look away.

"You don't want to think about that, Elizabeth," he told her soothingly. His voice slipped within her consciousness and he molded her to his desires. "You only want to sit down and remain calm..." He took her by the elbow and ushered her to the couch. She sat down automatically, the wrinkled brow of her forehead smoothing away as she relaxed.

Judah stood back, looked down at her and continued. "In fact, you enjoy this sensation of calmness, don't you my dear? You've never had it before. Not at any time in your life. But you will have it now, Elizabeth. You will be content to sit quietly and relax, regardless of what is going on about you."

Vicki watched with something akin to fascination at the scene before her. A part of her screamed that she should be terrified of this man -- of what he had just done to Barnabas and what he was doing to Elizabeth. But that part of her was growing smaller with every passing moment as she felt herself drawn to this man.

Her father.

As if reading her thoughts, he looked across at her, a small smile on his face. "There is no need for me to place such a spell on you, is there?"

Without even realizing it, she shook her head no.

* * * * * *

Angelique was still a good distance ahead of Willie as she emerged from the woods and hurried across the Collinwood lawn, the bright light of the moon clearly showing her the way. As near to panic as she had ever been she rushed toward the front door, her mind racing.

She could only imagine what she would find there. There was no doubt in her mind as to what happened -- the only thing she didn't know were the exact circumstances.

Why had he not listened to her? Why had he been so headstrong?

She ran up the drive toward the door and tried to calm herself so that she would be best able to face what was coming. What would she find inside this house? If Judah had begun his plan then there was no safety for her. She had not accepted his offer and therefore he would consider her the enemy as well.

At the moment, she didn't care.

She threw the door open and the sight that greeted her could have been pulled from her worst nightmare.

Barnabas' body was stretched out on the foyer floor, his legs askew, one arm reaching for his chest. Angelique stared in silence for a moment and did not move. She knew the tell tale sign of death well and quietly closed her eyes in a vain attempt at blotting out what she had just seen. Her throat tightened and she opened her eyes.

Julia was staring up at her, tears upon her cheeks, her fingers seemingly frozen where she had been tenderly stroking his hair. She opened her mouth and took in a breath but no words came.

Angelique released the door handle and slowly moved into the foyer, her face a mask of anguish. Her chin began to tremble with emotion as she gradually knelt beside the body. She felt the tears welling up within her, threatening to burst out, but still she would not cry. Hesitantly, she reached out to let her fingers graze his cheek.

The flesh was already turning cool to the touch. She pulled her hand away -- not quickly, but with resolution. With an effort, she forced the

tears back.

"I knew it..." she whispered.

Julia's sobs came unrestrained, her face contorted with grief. "He killed him!" she said, looking at Angelique. "He killed him!"

Angelique reached out her hand and placed it over one of Julia's. Already the beginnings of a plan were forming in her mind. "Where is Judah?" she asked anxiously.

Julia stared at her blankly, surprised by her reaction. Couldn't she see what had happened? She tried to calm herself enough to answer. "He...he's in...the drawing room. With Elizabeth and Vicki."

As Julia was speaking the sound of footsteps could be heard on the pavement outside and a moment later Willie was standing in the doorway. When he saw them his eyes grew wide with shock and fear.

"Barnabas!" he cried. He was beside them in an instant, his hand reaching out to grab Barnabas' arm. "What happened? What's wrong with him?"

"He's dead, Willie!" Julia managed, the sobs returning.

"Dead..." Willie repeated numbly. And then his face twisted as he futilely tried to stop the tears from falling that were already in his eyes. "What happened? How did he die?" he asked loudly.

"Be quiet, Willie!" Angelique ordered, her eyes betraying the fear that was starting to grow within her. A door was all that separated them from destruction. "We haven't time to explain right now. Help me get him out to Julia's car."

"My...my car," Julia echoed. "Why..take him to my car?"

"We must leave immediately," Angelique told her. "Before Judah returns."

"What difference does it make now?" Julia asked, making no effort to move.

"It could make a difference, Julia," Angelique explained.

"He's...dead..." Julia blinked. "Judah can't hurt him now."

"But he can hurt us," Angelique pointed out. "Please, Julia," she implored. "Trust me and help us."

Something within her tone caught Julia's attention and she forced herself to move. "Alright. Alright, I will."

Angelique anxiously looked toward the drawing room doors. She thought she heard voices within and only hoped that they could escape before Judah emerged.

Willie was squatting by Barnabas' side, staring at his dead benefactor and friend, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

"Willie, we must hurry!" Angelique cautioned. "Or we are all doomed."

Willie and Julia gently turned his body from its side and Willie slipped his arms under Barnabas and wrapped them around his chest and lifted. With an effort, and with Julia's aide, they hurried out to the doctor's car. Angelique hurried ahead and opened the back door and a moment later they were speeding down the drive toward the relative safety of the Old House.