Collinwood Cottage

Ramona Broman sat quietly next to her husband as he slowly navigated the old worn road back towards Collinwood. Eventually they came to the better-maintained asphalt driveways of Collinwood and approached their home, the lovely little Collins cottage.

They were still dressed in their ceremonial garb, a fact that once again made Ramona self-conscious, even on these mostly abandoned car paths. As they neared their home, Ramona’s fears were realized. There was a car parked next to the cottage and someone was standing next to it. Someone was going to see her dressed like this after all, someone in addition to the strange wife of Barnabas Collins.

“Who is that?” Ramona asked.

“It looks like a policeman,” Clive replied.

“Oh, fine!” she exclaimed. “How will we explain these clothes?”

“Let me do the talking,” Clive insisted.

“Don’t worry,” she said.

Clive parked their car and got out to greet the policeman.

“Good evening, Officer. I am Professor Clive Broman of Oxford,” Clive said.

The policeman was Sheriff Randall Drew, who introduced himself to Clive while eying the leopard skin outfit the professor wore.

Clive laughed. “I imagine you’re wondering about our attire.”

“Well, yes, sir. I am wondering about that, but it’s not really any of my business.”

Clive ignored Randall’s “out” for not giving an excuse and said, “We were on our way to a costume party in Bangor, but my wife got a headache so we decided to come back home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Professor. Please, don’t let me stop you from making your wife comfortable. I’d like to talk to you, but I can wait a few minutes.”

“Most considerate of you, Sheriff,” Clive responded.

Clive went around to Ramona’s side of the car and helped her out and into the cottage. Ramona had heard the excuse her husband had given and did her best to play the part of the headache sufferer.

Clive invited Sheriff Drew into the house. Randall followed the two.

Ramona went into the bedroom to change while her husband entertained the sheriff. Still, she listened to their conversation.

“Your wife seems familiar to me, Professor Broman,” Sheriff Drew said.

Clive answered, “Perhaps you met her at Collinwood. She used to be Roger Collins’ nurse.”

“Ah, yes! Miss Herndon!” Randall remembered.

“Now Mrs. Broman,” Clive corrected.

“Of course,” Randall said.

“Tell me, Sheriff,” Clive questioned. “How may I be of service to the Collinsport Police Department?”

“I need some expert advice, Professor, and my old instructor, Professor T. Elliot Stokes, highly recommended you to me as someone who might be able to help me.”

“How is my old colleague and friend?” the professor exclaimed.

“Quite well, Professor,” Randall said with a smile. “Still researching and studying, his retirement notwithstanding.”

Clive laughed. “I don’t suppose he’ll ever stop.”

“I don’t either,” Randall surmised, “and I’d love to have his help right now, but I’d rather not bother him too much, if you understand.”

“I do indeed, and if helping you will give my dear friend some much-deserved rest, then I’ll do my utmost.”

“Good,” Randall sighed. “Now, what do you know about vampires?”

Clive put his head back and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m afraid that vampires are not my specialty, but I can tell you a little. Vampires are the legendary undead who prey upon the living by stealing their blood. That is the classic vampire of literature. There are other variations of the legend in other cultures.”

Randall asked, “How does this blood-stealing happen, Professor?”

“Rumored to be through the vampire puncturing the victim in the neck or wrist. Are you investigating any specific cases?”

Randall evaded, “I can’t really discuss my reasons for asking at this time. Tell me. If I were to meet up with a vampire, how would I know?”

Clive now sidestepped the question, “As I said, Sheriff, vampirism is not an interest of mine. If you’d like, I could do some research for you.”

“No,” Randall said. “But, Professor Broman, just what is your specialty?”

“Egyptology,” the professor quickly replied.

Rose Cottage

Miriam Rice had met Damien and was quite impressed with his powers.

“A most remarkable boy!” she had said to Eleanor after they had left his room where they found him sitting quietly playing. “His intuition and inner knowledge far surpass anyone his age I’ve ever met.”

“Is that the influence of his mother?” Eleanor asked.

“Partially, by inheritance from his mother. Children of a phoenix are often highly sensitive and intuitive, always precocious, but there is something more with that boy. He has inherited something more from someone else in your family line?”

“Not being a Collins by blood,” Eleanor said, “I can’t give you much insight there. Both the Rose Cottage and Collinwood branches of the Collins family have a long reputation for being odd. I’ve always chalked it up to mistrust of the wealthiest family in the area by the locals, but lately I can see that strange and supernatural things do exist and the Collins name seems to attract them.”

“Yes, Mrs. Collins, there is a great deal under heaven that people generally do not accept or understand.”

“What can we do for Damien, Mrs. Rice?” Eleanor asked.

“I do not know yet, Mrs. Collins. There is much more that I need to know, but I will have to wait until tomorrow. I have been engaged by Mr. Quentin Collins and until he can brief me on why he brought me here, I’m unable to know how to proceed. I was told he would not be available until morning, so we will just have to wait. In the meantime, we will have to be very, very careful.”

Collinsport Inn

Laura dryly laughed in her unemotional way, amused by the plan her master had just laid out. She would enjoy the task that lay before her now. Despite the danger, none of her children would dare miss a funeral for her intended victim. While they would all be gathered there in some church, she would enter and burn the place to the ground and claim the lives and life forces of all her children that would be assembled to mourn. The time was quickly advancing when she would have to do something.

Raymond had gone out to visit David Collins at the cannery. David, her long lost little son was a man now and almost ready to come willingly. That thought delighted her. She almost had him once, but that meddling Victoria Winters had interfered. She was not able to interfere again. He would knowingly help destroy his whole family, even his own children, because Raymond would convince him of the promise of eternal life if he did.

Already David’s pliable mind had been conditioned to think he had somehow been cheated out of going with his mother by his meddling father. Psychic waves from Raymond’s powerful mind were planting the idea now in his mind that he could somehow find her, not knowing that she was here again and had come for him and for young Damien.

It was time for other business now, and she brought her thoughts back to her more immediate task. The fireplace in her suite shot out gas flames now. Wood or gas, it mattered little to her. She sat on a chair near the fireplace and began to peer deeply into the flames.

Rose Cottage

Eleanor Collins and Miriam Rice sat in Eleanor’s study, discussing Damien. Mrs. Rice had been taking comprehensive notes while Eleanor told everything she could think of.

The room was cool and the house was quiet. The children were either in bed or playing with their mother. Eleanor was answering all of the older woman’s questions. She disliked talking about these things. It made her more than uneasy to think like this, but she forced herself for Damien’s sake.

Mrs. Rice asked a question about where Damien liked to play but Eleanor did not comprehend it. She looked at Mrs. Rice, whose face showed concern, and saw the woman’s lips moving but could only hear muffled noises coming out of her mouth.

Eleanor felt the room grow hot and felt as if she were going to faint. It seemed as if the room were spinning and had become hot like a dry sauna.

Mrs. Rice arose in an instant and was facing Eleanor, shouting something to Eleanor. Reaching into Eleanor’s blouse, Mrs. Rice pulled out the strange talisman and noted that it was glowing. The parapsychologist ran to the door and called out for help.

In an instant, Mrs. Hammond, the housekeeper, responded. Mrs. Rice noticed a small crucifix hanging from the housekeeper’s neck.

“Get Mrs. Collins some very cold water.”

The housekeeper disappeared, then returned in a couple of minutes with the water.

“Are you a religious person?” Mrs. Rice asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Hammond replied. “Catholic.”

“Good,” the spiritualist said. “Come in here and pray over Mrs. Collins. Don’t stop no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

The housekeeper nodded fearfully and began to pray, while Mrs. Rice went to work on Eleanor.

She kept trying to get Eleanor to sip the cool water, but Eleanor was unresponsive.

To Mrs. Hammond, Miriam said, “Stay here and keep praying. Remember, no matter what happens, keep praying!”

Then she rushed out of the room.

The Old House

Quentin arrived at the Old House but without Angelique. He went straight up to Barnabas’ room where Julia and Maggie worked feverishly on the poor old man.

“Where is Angelique?” Julia demanded.

“She wouldn’t come. Said she was sure it was a trap.”

“Quentin,” Julia said nervously, “I need Angelique here if I have to go get her myself. Where is she?”

“Probably on her way here, but on her own terms,” Quentin speculated.

“I certainly hope so, Quentin.”

“Why?” he asked. “What do you want from her?”

“Yes, Julia,” came a voice from behind her. “What do you want from me?”

Julia turned around. It was Angelique, who had just materialized in the room. Maggie had shrunk back into the corner when she heard Angelique’s voice.

Angelique smiled wickedly at Maggie for a moment, then turned to face Julia.

Julia looked at Maggie and commanded, “Leave us.” Turning to Quentin, she said, “You too.”

Maggie had already begun to walk cautiously around Angelique, her hand poised on the small cross she was wearing, when Quentin responded to Julia’s instructions, “I’m not going to leave you alone with her.”

“I’ll be fine, Quentin. Now do as I say!” Julia’s voice was even more determined.

Quentin reluctantly left, hoping that the good feelings that occasionally existed between the two women would protect Julia.

After he left, Angelique advanced somewhat menacingly towards the old doctor.

“Now, Julia, maybe I should even up the score with you, after I’ve finished what I intend to do to Barnabas.”

“Good, Angelique,” Julia said. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

Rose Cottage

Miriam Rice returned to Eleanor’s study with some strange artifacts and a hammer and nails. Standing on a chair, while Mrs. Hammond continued to pray, she attached one odd talisman to the top of the doorway on the inside and then two others above the windows in the room. As soon as she completed nailing the final item, the room grew suddenly cooler, as if some cold wind had sucked all the warmth out through the door.

“You can stop praying, now, Mrs. Hammond,” Miriam said.

Eleanor sat up, still dizzy and weak. “What happened to me?”

“More water, please,” Miriam commanded the housekeeper.

“You were attacked by the phoenix, I’d say,” Mrs. Rice revealed.

“Attacked? Why?”

“I’d need to know more before I can say for sure, but she seems to have either decided you are a threat to her plans, or she has some other strategic purpose.”

“What do we do?” Eleanor pleaded.

“You are safe for the time being, but I recommend you sleep in this room tonight. We’ll make it comfortable.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Rice,” Eleanor surrendered.

“I think I should call Mr. Collins. I know he said he wasn’t available tonight, but this is an emergency. I will step out and call him now. When Mrs. Hammond returns, have her make you comfortable in here. Don’t leave the room unless I am here to escort you. Is that understood?”

Eleanor nodded. Her house guest had become the mistress of the house, but Eleanor relieved rather than annoyed.

Miriam Rice stepped out into the hall and looked for the nearest phone. She dialed Quentin Collins’ cellular phone number.

He answered.

“Mr. Collins, this is Miriam Rice. I know you were not going to be available, but this is an emergency. Mrs. Eleanor Collins has been attacked.”

“Attacked? How?” Quentin asked with concern.

“Psychically. Probably by the phoenix.”

“I’m glad you called, Mrs. Rice,” Quentin said. “I’m going to give you a telephone number and I want you to call Professor Clive Broman and tell him everything that happened.”

“Very well,” Miriam agreed.

After she hung up, she thought to herself. “Professor Broman! Now there’s a name I haven’t heard for a while. I finally get to meet the man. Good!”

Collinsport Inn

Laura sighed loudly and slumped over for a moment. Her mind was hot with anger.

“So, Clive Broman thinks he can interfere with my plans! I will get my revenge on him and on his precious little wife too.”

The door opened and her master, Raymond Murdoch, entered. “Is it done?” he asked anxiously.

“No it isn’t,” she said with annoyance.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Someone interfered. I’m sure you know who I mean.”

“Most likely our old enemy. We might have to resort to more earthly means, if you get my meaning,” the old man said.

“Perhaps. I’ll make another attempt later when I’ve regained my strength,” she said. “Did you see David?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“He’s coming around, slowly, but unavoidably.”

The Old House

Angelique laughed at Julia. “Which do you mean? Even the score with you or finish off Barnabas? Or perhaps both?”

Julia stopped her retreat and found her courage. “What you do about me is not important, Angelique. I want you to go ahead and do what you wanted to do to Barnabas.”

“Is this supposed to be some kind of reverse psychology, Doctor?” Angelique mocked.

“I’m completely serious and sincere, Angelique.”

“It’s some sort of trap then,” Angelique speculated.

“It’s no trap, Angelique. You trusted me once. We trusted each other,” Julia reminded her.

Angelique thought a moment. “Yes, for Barnabas’ sake, we did.”

“You can trust me again, Angelique,” Julia assured the vampire.

“For Barnabas’ sake?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you’re also going to try to tell me that Barnabas loves me, just like Quentin said,” Angelique said derisively.

Julia walked to Barnabas and checked the I.V. in his arm. “I would not bother to tell you something I’m sure you already know.”

“If Barnabas loves me, he sure has a shoddy way of showing it.”

“You don’t make it easy,” Julia quipped.

Angelique laughed cruelly. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

“Let me tell you something that Barnabas told me twenty-some years ago, when we returned up the stairway through time from 1840. Barnabas thought you were dead forever and he said that despite it all, he has always loved you.”

Angelique frowned. “Of course he said that, Julia. It’s easy for him to say that with me dead because he doesn’t have to be responsible for it. He’s so romantic that he can’t help but love a dead woman who died helping him, but I’ve come to realize that such expressions of love are only good for as long as it takes to say them.”

“I told myself that same thing, Angelique,” Julia said, facing her. “I wanted to believe it, that somehow he’d forget about you and look to me. It never happened and it never will.”

Angelique placed her icy hand on the side of Julia’s face and jibed, “Poor unfulfilled Julia. We both wanted Barnabas to love us, but he couldn’t take his mind off of Josette long enough to notice either one of us.”

Julia was repulsed by the clammy flesh of Angelique’s palm but knew her well enough to know not to show fear.

“Yes, Angelique. Barnabas loved Josette, but he loved you first. He doesn’t regret the other women he has loved too, but one thing is certain. He loves us both in our own ways, but for that one person he wants to be with, he would choose you over me.”

Angelique lowered her hand. “Must be terrible for you, Julia,” she mocked. “Playing second to someone that Barnabas hates can’t feel good.”

“I’m telling you, Angelique. Barnabas loves you!”

“If that is true, Dr. Hoffman,” Angelique said, “Why do you want me to do this thing?”

“To save him,” Julia said.

“You’re confused, poor old dear,” Angelique ridiculed. “What you’re asking me to do will not save Barnabas. It will return him to being that thing he hates, to be like me and to be with me. That hardly constitutes salvation. If he loves either of us now, he’ll hate us both if I do that and you let me.”

“It is the only answer left to me, Angelique,” Julia pleaded.

Angelique was taken aback by Julia’s show of emotion. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious, Angelique.”

“Why?”

“You helped me once to cure Barnabas. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about getting you to do the same thing for me…as soon as I’m done with what I want to accomplish in this state.”

“I’ve found more powerful drugs, something that does the job a little more thoroughly than the herbs and such that we used in 1897. With these, I’ve kept Barnabas’ condition at bay by regular injections. These injections keep the unholy blood cells that cause vampirism inert and impotent, while allowing Barnabas to age and be like other men. That has been the fondest desire of his heart and I was glad to be the one making his dream stay true.”

“Then why do you want me to end it?” Angelique demanded.

“Because my treatment never took into account the introduction of another vampire’s blood cells. Ever since you attacked him down on the beach early this morning, Barnabas has hovered between both states while his blood cells turn into an entirely new strain. I am afraid that rather than stabilize and be as I have made him, or even become as you want him to be, that he’ll die…permanently.”

“And you want me to make him a vampire rather than have that happen? Don’t you know he’d rather be dead than that?”

“I know,” Julia said sadly. “But at least I can buy some time to figure out what to do.”

“My dear Julia,” Angelique said seriously. “You forget that when he awakens after I finish him off, he’ll cease to be the kind man you’ve become so fond of and will become a monster. With time, he may regain control, but those first few days…well, it isn’t pretty.”

“I thought it is what you wanted,” Julia pointed out.

“It is. I just wanted you to realize what you’re asking. Don’t blame me if you’re one of his first victims. And, how responsible will you feel if someone else is?”

“It isn’t believable, Angelique, for you to pretend you care about how I feel. I’m willing to take the risk. I know Barnabas better than you do. I’m prepared to deal with him.”

Angelique eyed Julia carefully, then announced, “I don’t think I’ll do it, Julia, just because you want me to. I still think it’s some kind of a trap, or that at least there’s something you’re not telling me.”

This time it was Julia who laughed mockingly. “You’re afraid, Angelique. You’re afraid that he’ll reject you, or worse yet that he’ll try to destroy you. He could do it and we both know it.”

“Nonsense, Julia,” Angelique defended. “I’m not the least afraid of Barnabas Collins.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Come on, Julia. You’re still holding something back.”

“All right, Angelique. I’ll tell you,” Julia said. “Theoretically, there’s a risk. Most of the transfer of blood in a vampire attack is from the victim to the vampire. You know about that. There’s also that small amount of blood full of unholy blood cells that passes into the victim’s bloodstream. You think of the blood you drain from your victims as nourishment, but in Barnabas’ case, there’s more to it. His blood right now is filled with an agent that could harm you if you were to partake of it more than you already have. It is a mutation based on his old unholy blood cells, your new unholy blood cells, and the serum I’ve given him regularly. You could easily be saturated with this agent and you could both die instead of just him.”

Angelique’s eyes widened in a frightfully menacing stare. “So this was a trap!”

“No Angelique. I meant every word. I want to save Barnabas, but I can’t. Only you can do it, and you have to risk your own existence trying.”

“And you were going to let me do it without telling me,” Angelique accused.

“No, I would have told you before you did it, but I hoped you’d agree before I told you,” Julia explained. “Do you love Barnabas? Do you really love him?”

Angelique turned away from Julia and began to pace. It was not the slow pacing of a woman faced with a decision, but reminiscent of a caged leopard.

While Angelique paced, a soft knock came to the door. Angelique stopped her gait and frowned at Julia.

“Who is it?” Julia called.

“Sheriff Drew,” came the answer.

“One moment please,” Julia called to the door.

She walked over to Angelique and whispered, “This must be done before dawn or not at all. I will talk to the sheriff.”

Angelique nodded and vanished.

Julia opened the door and invited the sheriff in.

“How is Mr. Collins, Doctor?” Randall asked.

“Not well, Sheriff,” Julia answered.

“Is he conscious?”

“No,” Julia said firmly.

“But you were just talking to someone,” the Sheriff observed.

Julia reached in the pocket of her lab coat and produced a small cassette recorder. Showing it to Randall, she said, “Just making a few notes. You’re interrupting.”

“I apologize for that. I was hoping Mr. Collins could answer a few questions. Obviously, he cannot.”

“Obviously,” Julia echoed. She was nervous that Barnabas might go through one of the transformations while the Sheriff was present, so she said quickly, “Let’s step out into the hall if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Doctor,” the sheriff agreed as he stepped towards the door.

In the hall, they continued their conversation after Julia closed the door. She started walking down the stairs and the sheriff followed.

“It seems that Mr. Collins is in fairly serious condition. Are you sure he shouldn’t be in a hospital?” Sheriff Drew asked.

“I’m certain he should be in a hospital, but Collinsport Hospital is not set up for Mr. Collins’ special needs. I’ve called for an ambulance to transport him to my own facility, Windcliffe. We are set up for him there. I have everything I need there. I hope to have Mr. Collins there by morning. I wouldn’t expect to be able to question him for quite some time,” the old doctor said.

“He’s that ill?”

“In his condition, it could be many days before he regains consciousness. I’ve dealt with this before, Sheriff. It’s a rare disease.”

“What’s it called?” the sheriff grilled.

“Collins-Bouchard Disease,” Julia lied.

“Never heard of it. Don’t they name diseases after the first reported case?”

“Yes, they do. Mr. Collins is the only known living case.”

“Living?” Randall asked.

“Yes. The original Barnabas Collins had it as did a woman in Martinique around the same time. An ancestor of mine did the original research and treatment. It has been my life’s work to carry on where my ancestor left off.”

“I see,” the sheriff said. “Will you let me know when Mr. Collins is able to talk again?”

Julia smiled and said, “Of course. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to my patient.”

Randall nodded and left the house. Julia looked into the drawing room and was surprised to see Maggie, Joe, and Quentin dozing. It was a wise thing for them to do and she could probably waken them if she needed them, but it made her feel dreadfully alone.

Rose Cottage

Professor Broman arrived with his beautiful wife Ramona and was greeted by Mrs. Rice.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Professor Broman,” the woman remarked as she shook the professor’s hand.

He looked at her questioningly.

“I have read your books and I’m quite a fan of yours,” she said with a smile.

The Professor bowed and thanked her. “Believe it or not, I have heard of you as well. You are quite the practitioner, though I seem to recall that you mainly operate in the Great Lakes area.”

Mrs. Rice bowed this time and said with no little amazement, “You are quite right! Mr. Collins employed me to come here to help with our little problem.”

Turning to Ramona, Mrs. Rice said, “Forgive me, my dear. I did not mean to be rude.”

Clive interjected, “This is my wife, Mrs. Rice–Ramona Broman.”

Mrs. Rice extended her hand. Ramona took the hand and shook it. Miriam Rice cocked her head to one side, looked at Ramona and then at the professor and exclaimed, “It is a very great pleasure to meet you.”

Clive looked at the older woman warily, wondering if she had detected something about Ramona psychically.

“Where is Mrs. Collins?” he asked abruptly.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Rice instructed.

They all went to Eleanor’s study where Eleanor reclined in her easy chair, looking pale and fatigued.

“Professor Broman!” she said weakly.

“Don’t try to get up,” he commanded.

To his wife, Professor Broman said, “My dear, would you check Mrs. Collins’ vitals and do a quick physical assessment.”

To Mrs. Rice he said, “My wife is a registered nurse.”

“I see,” Miriam answered.

After a few moments, Ramona answered, “I think she’ll be fine, Clive, but I think she may need to see a doctor.”

“Only if you think it is urgent, Ramona. We have other more pressing matters if she is not injured or badly traumatized.”

“It can wait, but I’d feel better if Dr. Hoffman or Dr. Haskell looked her over.”

“From what I understand, both of them are unavoidably detained at the Old House with Barnabas Collins.”

“What is wrong with Mr. Collins?” Eleanor asked feebly.

“He is suffering from the wound he received while helping your nephew,” Clive explained. “He’s in good hands, though, so don’t worry.”

The Old House

Julia returned to Barnabas’ room and reached for the door knob. The knob turned but the catch did not release. She had not locked it when she left, so she tried harder.

She knocked loudly and said, “Is someone in there?”

A faint voice returned and said, “Keep your voice down, Julia. It is I, Angelique. I’ve decided to go along with your plan.”

“Let me in!” Julia insisted.

“No!” Angelique replied adamantly. “This time, you are going to have to trust me.”

“But I need to be there in case either of you are in any distress.”

There was a short pause and then, “Not on your life, Julia. I will release the door if you will promise to only enter if Barnabas or I call out to you. Is that agreed?”

Julia pursed her lips and thought. “I agree.”

“Good,” Angelique replied. “We will have to trust each other now.”

There was no sound of a lock being turned. It had not been a physical lock that had held the door. Julia listened intently at the door but heard no sound.

Rose Cottage

After asking many questions, Clive Broman faced Eleanor. Mrs. Rice stood behind her and Ramona was at her husband’s side.

“Mrs. Rice’s suspicions were correct. You have been psychically attacked by your former sister-in-law. I believe it was her intention to kill you, but due to precautions I have taken and the skill of Mrs. Rice, you were spared.”

“But why?” Eleanor asked.

“Do you remember that we postulated that the Murdochs would need to get all of the Collinwood Collinses and Damien together in order to destroy them all by fire at once?”

Eleanor shivered. “Yes,” she answered.

“Well, if you were to die, what Collins would not attend the funeral?”

Eleanor replied knowingly, “I see your point. My death was supposed to ensure their success.”

Ramona interjected, “No doubt the funeral would have been in a church. Would they attack holy ground like that?”

“They would indeed,” Mrs. Rice said.

Clive said, “Our problem is that because they failed, they will still need to have someone to sacrifice to the same end. They will either try again with you or choose someone else.”

“But who?”

“Let’s think about that. It would probably be a member of either family, though of the Collins family at Collinwood, since they need their own blood descendants, it would have to be a member of the family by marriage. That would include Mr. Loomis and Mrs. Hallie Collins. In your family, besides yourself it could be anyone, including the children.”

“No!” Eleanor cried out. “Let them take me!”

She writhed to get out of her chair but was too weak.

Clive knelt by Eleanor and took her hand in his. “My dear Mrs. Collins, I am going to do my utmost to protect you, the children, and every living Collins from the phoenix and her master. For the moment, we must do what we can for you and then decide what to do for the others.”

“But the children may be in danger now,” Eleanor protested.

“Not from the phoenix, at least not by psychic means,” Mrs. Rice explained. “She is likely exhausted from her attempt against you right now. We have a few hours at least.”

“But there is the possibility they will resort to more conventional means, isn’t there?” Ramona asked.

“Good thinking, my dear,” Clive replied.

“We could send the children away for a while, get them out of harm’s way” Eleanor suggested.

“I’m afraid, Mrs. Collins,” Clive explained, “That if you try to send Damien away, you’ll force their hand. I imagine they’d take Damien alone and lose the rest rather than lose him and gain the others. As for the other children, the phoenix powers are far-reaching. We need a way to protect without sending them away.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Rice commented.

Clive continued. “The danger by conventional means is tonight. As soon as we’ve taken care of you, Mrs. Collins, I will patrol the grounds until morning. My wife will stay with you and Mrs. Rice will check on the children.”

Both Miriam and Ramona nodded.

The Old House

Inside Barnabas’ room, Angelique knelt by her long-estranged husband. He looked so old there on the bed and so tortured. Though she kept her hands at her side, she reached out to him with her heart.

“Oh Barnabas,” she whispered. “I’ve done so many things because I loved you that were foolish and destructive to not only you but myself. I hope I am not being foolish once more. Where you are concerned, I can’t seem to help myself. I have searched my heart and found it to be full of greed, ambition, hatred, and many other evils. These things I’ve set great store by because they have always served me…”

Barnabas groaned but did not awaken.

“…but the one thing in my heart more powerful than any other thing is my love for you. I am about to give myself to you willingly but in doing so I am once again forcing you to give yourself to me. If I could only be certain you will appreciate it, it would be so much easier.”

A long groan came from deep within him and he seemed to be in pain.

Instantly, Julia began to pound on the door and call out, “Angelique! What is going on?”

“Nothing, Julia. Stay out there!” Angelique commanded.

Continuing, Angelique said, “I should have been more like Julia to you, my beloved. She always put you first, risked her life over and over again to save you. I was too selfish. As much as I hated her, I always respected her. I was jealous that you trusted her so much but could never trust me. I was too blind to see that I deserved your mistrust.

“You love her, I know. You never would marry her, I’m sure, but you love her nevertheless. I was jealous of that too. It seemed to me that the only love you ever expressed to me was in the throes of sexual passion so very long ago in Martinique. I clung to that much too much, but deep down inside I wanted more for you to love me like you loved Josette and Roxanne and Julia. I thought my claim to you was more important, more valid because we had consummated our love, but I am only now getting a glimpse of how much more satisfying is that love which you showered upon others and always withheld from me.”

An icy tear trickled down her pale cheek and splashed onto her breast. She looked at it as it spotted her dress and marveled that she could cry in her current state as a vampire. Not in her multi-century life had she shed a tear since she was a little girl in Salem. She had bellowed, lamented, whined, and shouted and to others may have seemed to be crying, but no tears had fallen from those eyes in nearly three-hundred tragic years.

“Can the undead weep?” she wondered to herself. “Apparently they can.”

Lifting her hand to the bed, she rested it on the still hand of Barnabas. He showed no reaction on his unconscious face.

“I’m feeling something new, Barnabas,” she said. “All these decades and centuries, I’ve sworn that I love you, but I’m suddenly seeing that what I felt was no more valuable a love than the love you swore to me in my bed. Here, faced with the choice of risking my very existence to save you and with the distinct possibility we will both be destroyed in the process, I feel no reluctance, no fear for my own life. Yours is what is important. I only worry that I will not succeed. Is this what love really is? I’ve been such a fool to have chased after something that is not real.

“Quentin says you love me. Julia says so too. Is this love I’m feeling right now for you the same kind of love you told them you feel for me? If you had only told me yourself, things may have been different.”

Here, she bowed her head and let fall a few more tears.

“That is not true, Barnabas. I would still have been the same evil, wicked woman I ever was. I can’t justify myself that way anymore. I have to make my decision without knowing how you really feel.”

 

Outside the door, Julia sat on a chair nearby, her head leaning against the wall. Angelique had forgotten to keep her voice to a whisper and Julia was taking in every word. Tears streamed down her cheeks, too.

 

Angelique stood a moment and paced. After an anguished minute, she returned to kneel by the side of the bed.

“Two-hundred years ago, I set a curse on you that whoever loves you shall die. I thought I had fallen victim to my own curse when you first arose from the grave and throttled me into oblivion, but I did not really love you so my death was not really due to my own curse and I returned to life.

“Then, in 1840 when I saved you, I was shot, killed, and buried and that was not in fulfillment of the curse, so I was raised again.

“Now, to perform the ultimate act of love and lay down my life for yours, I submit myself finally to my own curse that I cannot lift. One or both of us will perish this very night. I pray it will be only me.”

She laughed a nervous laugh. “Seems odd for me to use that word. I’ve never ‘prayed’ to anyone but my master, not sincerely. Oh, I put on a good show for Reverend Trask, but I had no desire for God to hear me. Now, in this moment of decision, when my heart is filled with a deep and abiding love, I turn to the Author of love and ask Him to punish me with death and grant you life, my beloved Barnabas. When I die, my eternal soul will be turned over to the master I followed so fanatically in life to do with me as he sees fit. There will be no rest for me and I choose my fate willingly; no, zealously.”

She raised herself onto her feet and knelt over the comatose body of her cherished husband. She turned his head so his neck was exposed and bared her long white fangs. No bloodlust consumed her. No hatred spurred her on to this violence. She turned away in revulsion at what she had become and what she must do. Though she was still a vampire in body, her vampire heart had given way for a woman’s heart, a woman who knew finally how to love.

Looking back at his neck, she punctured the skin with her teeth and began to drink.