CHAPTER
95: Timeslip
by Nicky
Voiceover by Nancy Barrett: “Julia Hoffman has
disappeared from the room in the East Wing, a mysterious portal that leads to
other worlds … other times. After Julia,
Barnabas, and Angelique escaped from a parallel dimension and an adventure that
nearly cost them their lives, only Julia has been plucked from 1968 by the
forces that rule the room … plucked from her own time and deposited in the
distant future … forward in time … to the year 2014.”
1
“My
god,” Carolyn said, and lightly brushed Julia’s hair, grown increasingly
shaggy, what with all the turmoil surrounding Collinwood past, present, and parallel
lately. Then the older woman drew her
hand back as if shocked, and stared wide-eyed at her fingertips. She doesn’t believe I’m real, Julia thought;
hell, I barely believe it. “My god, Julia, you look just as you did the
last time I saw you.”
“The
summer of 1968.”
“Yes. Just before you followed Barnabas into that …
that other time.”
“But
Carolyn,” Julia said, casting an eye around the drawing room, so much like the
way it had been when last she had seen it, but oh so different at the same time,
“Carolyn, I’ve just come from that other time.
For me, it is still 1968, don’t you see?”
“I
don’t understand.” Julia’s eyes
narrowed. Even as she spoke the words,
Carolyn’s face … twitched. Ticced,
perhaps, at the corner of her right eye and, at the same time, at the right
corner of her mouth. She’s lying, Julia
thought; she does understand; she
isn’t naïve, some innocent waif who has never pondered the horrors that lie
beneath the roof of her ancestral home; she knows something; now, what is it?
“We
were in that room,” Julia said, carefully choosing her words to avoid adding
“Angelique’s room”, “the room that sent Barnabas and me into Parallel Time to
begin with. We had just returned to our
own time. The others left the room, and
I stayed behind … but only for a moment.”
Panic twisted inside her, and she gripped it tightly; can’t lose my head
now, she thought fiercely; no time to turn into a bibbling idiot; I must figure this out, and figure it out
quickly. “I suppose that was enough –
the room changed again, and … here I am.”
“It
threw you forward in time,” Carolyn said, her voice soft with awe. “Oh Julia,” and she flung her arms around the
other woman, “you have no idea how wonderful it is to see you again.”
Julia,
discomfited, always slightly uncomfortable with overt shows of affection,
finally allowed herself to return Carolyn’s embrace. They had never been terrifically close; for
most of the past year, Carolyn had been possessed by the ravening spirit of an
eighteenth century French murderess by the name of Danielle Roget; after that,
she had nearly become a vampire at the hands of Barnabas Collins when she
stumbled into the coffin room at the Old House at a most inopportune moment;
and after that, she was nearly killed when Vicki went on her Collins-destroying
rampage. Now … who could say? The last Julia had seen of her, she was
discussing the potential return of Laura Collins with David. “2014,” she said at last, to say something.
“Forty-five
years,” Carolyn said. She drew back, and
Julia was further startled to see that tears sparkled in her deep blue
eyes. “Julia, you don’t know …
forty-five years at Collinwood.
Forty-five long years.”
“We
must figure out why I’m here,” Julia said.
“It can’t be an accident.”
“Why
not?” Carolyn said. “Nothing about this
makes much sense. Why should Barnabas be
sent to a world parallel to our own? Why
should that world exist at all? Maybe
there are no answers, Julia.”
“But
we did find out why that world exists,” Julia said, suddenly excited. “From a woman in that time named Roxanne
Drew. She believed that her world had no
reason to exist. That it branched off
from ours at some point. She even knew
when: 1692, when a warlock named Judah
Zachery caused something to happen that split our world into two.”
“Judah
Zachery!” Carolyn gasped.
Julia
frowned. “You know the name? I had never heard of him before.”
“N-no,”
Carolyn said suddenly, and there – there it was again: that little tic, at the corner of her eye and
at the corner of her mouth. “No, I don’t
think I have.”
Julia
opened her mouth to call Carolyn out on her lying, then thought better of it
and relaxed. I must tread carefully, she
told herself; I must work my way through this time slowly and with great
caution if I’m to figure out why I’ve come to this place. Because, despite Carolyn’s feelings, Julia
believed very strongly that there was a specific purpose behind this particular
timeslip. “Where is the rest of the
family?” she asked instead. “Certainly
you don’t live here by yourself, do you?”
“No,”
Carolyn said after the barest hesitation.
Then, more firmly, “No. David
lives here as well. He lived for several
years in Venezuela – Julia, he even opened up his own restaurant, David, can
you imagine? – but he came home after his wife … passed away. Diana died just over a year ago, but he’s
still terribly broken up about it.” Her
eyes flickered, and she dropped her head.
“Mother passed away, oh, a long time ago. In 1990.
Peacefully, naturally.” Her head
jerked up. Her voice trembled
waspishly. “That’s how our lives have
been for the past several decades, Julia:
peaceful. Natural.”
Julia
never responded; a chilling cavalcade of laughter – horrific, familiar, and
most of all, aggravating – met her ears and caused them nearly to bleed.
Carolyn
strode across the drawing room and gripped the doorway with one trembling,
arthritic hand. Her eyes spit sparks of
hatred all the way to the top of the staircase.
Julia, following, saw the source of Carolyn’s seething, and nearly took
a step backward. Even though she had
just seen – and worked with, and even started to like – the woman who stood at
the top of the staircase, it was still a nasty shock to see her like … like that.
“Natural?” the woman emitting that shattering laughter tittered. “Peaceful?
My dear, dear Carolyn: please.”
“Cassandra,”
Carolyn snarled. “Could you please keep your voice down?”
Cassandra
Blair Collins, one hand on the balustrade, the other pressed saucily against
the hip of the chic crimson dress she wore, did not look a day over
twenty-one. Her hair, black as a raven’s
wing, framed her face and high, rounded cheekbones, straightened, curved like
mirrored C’s, more like a helmet than ever.
Giant silver hoop earrings dangled heavily from her earlobes. “Carolyn, Carolyn, Carolyn,” Cassandra sang
even as she descended the stairs, “you may be the mistress of this house, but
you are not the mistress of me. No one,” and she sounded haughty and angry at
the same time, “no one is the
mistress of me.”
Then she stood before
Julia, who couldn’t help but take a step backward, expecting at any moment to
watch those terrible and horribly familiar
pearly fangs descend from her Barbie doll pink lips. “Julia,” Cassandra said, and no fangs
emerged, and it was with a shock that Julia realized that Cassandra was
trembling with fury, “how could you come back now? How could you? How dare
you?”
2
“Cassandra,”
Carolyn said with forced calm – Julia could nearly hear the bone-squeal
gritting of her teeth – “Cassandra, dear
– perhaps you might back off the tiniest bit.
What do you say?”
Cassandra’s
– Angelique’s – blue eyes flashed. “Damn
you, Julia Hoffman,” she hissed … but did as Carolyn bade, and took a step
backward.
Julia
lifted her chin, and her eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing here?” Her
eyes darted to Carolyn. “And why do you
look … as you do?”
“I
would step carefully if I were you, Doctor
Hoffman,” Cassandra spat.
Carolyn
stepped between them. “Ladies,” she
said. “Please. There’s no reason to come to blows.” She turned to face Julia, and her eye and
mouth ticked again. “I know everything
about Cassandra,” she said.
“I
doubt that,” Julia remarked.
“I
was forced to.” Cassandra rolled her
eyes, crossed her arms over her breasts, and, hips swaying, stalked over to the
table where once the telephone had sat.
Now there were twin apparatuses, slim black plastic towers, that blinked
with green lights, like the eyes of cats.
“I delved into the history of the family after Barnabas and … and
Cassandra returned from Parallel Time,” Carolyn said. “The true
history; I can tell from your face that you know there is such a thing. I worked with Professor Stokes to hone my
psychic abilities.”
Cassandra
snorted.
Carolyn,
glaring, ignored her. “As we worked, I
began to learn the true nature of the Collins family. All our little sins and peccadilloes. For a long time I was so preoccupied with my
own … my own dark side, let’s call it, that I lost sight of the rest of the
people around me. The people I
loved. Professor Stokes saved me, Julia,
he really did. And damned me, I
suppose.” Her eyes darkened. “Damned us all.”
“Professor
Stokes was a fool,” Cassandra
declared.
“Cassandra,”
Julia said sweetly, “please shut up.”
Before
Cassandra could form a retort – and one that might leave Julia Hoffman slightly
reduced in some manner – Carolyn said hastily, “He helped open a door inside me
that led to all manner of secret places.
Dark places. I learned all the
terrible things that my ancestors were capable of. I learned about Barnabas and Josette, about
Angelique –” At that, Cassandra’s lower
lip began to tremble. “— about Quentin
and Vicki, Petofi, Gerard Stiles – anyone who had been tainted in some manner
by the supernatural.”
“Hadn’t
you better speed this little recitation up?” Cassandra said. “The sun is about to set.”
“Vampires,”
Carolyn said carefully, stepping quickly as she did toward the drawing room
windows and, to Julia’s shock, pulled back thick wood shutters, marked on both
sides with painted red crosses and other cabalistic designs. The knobs on both sides glittered silver in
the light of the setting sun.
“Werewolves. Zombies and the
living dead. Creatures from beyond my
imagination, for certain. Collinsport –”
“Collinsport,”
Cassandra interjected, “is overrun. We
never leave the estate if we don’t have to.”
“What
on earth do you mean?” Julia said.
“Just
as she said,” Carolyn called as she tugged at the shutters. “Cassandra, a little help?” Shrugging, Cassandra gestured, and the
shutters closed themselves. “Thank you,”
Carolyn said, and added, sighing, “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to that.”
Julia
felt something dark and terrible stab at her.
“Where,” she said, her hands trembling, “where is Barnabas?”
Cassandra
and Carolyn exchanged mutual looks.
“We’ll talk about Barnabas later,” Carolyn said. “Right now we must prepare the house.”
“Why
are you so furious with me?” Julia asked as she followed the two women from
room to room. Cassandra glanced over her
shoulder as she traced invisible patterns in the air before the front door,
performing, as Carolyn had explained, a protection barrier against anything
strong enough to break down the door.
“Not
you, I suppose,” Cassandra sighed. “Your
spirit. Your very potent spirit.”
“My
what?”
“Carolyn
hasn’t seen you since the day you followed Barnabas into Parallel Time,”
Cassandra said grimly, putting the finishing touches on her witch pattern, “but
I have.”
“How
is that possible?”
“Because
your ghost appeared to me shortly after our return. Yes, Julia, your ghost. I knew you would show
up here someday because you were fated to.
Your spirit told me as much.”
“My
ghost,” Julia said, swallowing, “my ghost appeared to you in 1968 … because …
because …” Her throat clicked, and she
said weakly, “Because I came to this time and … and I died here.”
3
“David
will be awake shortly,” Carolyn said.
“Are we nearly finished?”
“I
suppose we are,” Cassandra said. “For
tonight. Yes,” she said, turning back to
Julia, “your ghost managed to cross the barriers of time and space to deliver
us a warning. We were all doomed, you
told us, unless we gave up everything magic.
Every magical device, every spell, every herb, incantation – all the
powers we each possessed. You told us
that it wanted our powers – that it needed them.”
“It?”
“The
Enemy, you called it,” Cassandra said.
“Your ghost spoke of nothing else.”
“The
Enemy,” Julia said thoughtfully. “It
doesn’t ring any bells.”
“You’ll
learn about the Enemy soon enough,” Cassandra snapped. “Because it’s here – with us – or it will be,
shortly.”
“But
what is it?”
Carolyn
shook her head wearily. “It doesn’t
always show itself – certainly not every night.
But when it does, it usually appears as our friends and relatives.”
“Our
deceased friends and relatives,”
Cassandra said. “And our enemies, and
those we’ve killed. But it can become
anything – anyone. We’ve
discovered. If it wants to. My powers can prevent it from destroying us,
but I can’t keep it from appearing in this house whenever it wants to.”
“Your
spells,” Carolyn said with sudden kindness, “are usually very potent. Almost always. We’ve lived here – successfully, more or less
– for nearly five decades.”
“But
… but your magic,” Julia stammered, “your powers –”
“I
went away,” Cassandra said, “rather than stay.
I found a way to … not to lose them all,
but to rid myself of the influence of the Mask of Ba’al.” Her eyes darkened; so did her tone. “Because your ghost insisted. And by the time I returned, it was already
too late. The damage had been done.”
“How
do you know,” Julia said, “that what you were seeing was really my ghost, and
not this … this Enemy?”
“Because
the Enemy wanted me to stay,” she
said. “It wanted my powers, just as you
warned. But if I had stayed –”
“You
don’t know what might have happened if you had stayed,” Carolyn said. “Perhaps things might have been a great deal
worse.”
“What
happened?” Julia cried.
“Professor
Stokes sent me away,” Carolyn said. “To
a sorcerer he knew in Singapore. I was
only supposed to be away for a few weeks, but just before I was about to come
home, Stokes sent me a telegram urging me to stay with his friend for a few
more weeks. A month later, I couldn’t
wait any longer. I came back home and …”
“Elizabeth
lay in a coma,” Cassandra said. “David
was insane. And Quentin and Barnabas
…” Her voice trailed off, and her chest
hitched the barest, barest inch.
“Where
is Barnabas?” Julia asked through gritted teeth.
A
sudden snarl from just outside the front door cut off whatever Carolyn or
Cassandra would say next; at that moment something incredibly heavy hurled
itself against the door. Carolyn cried
out and clutched at Cassandra, who thrust out one hand; her eyes flared black,
and she said, “Obruro.” From outside, something yipped in sudden
pain; in the next moment, another fusillade of snarling from the other things – and, Julia thought, that was as
good a word as any; the sounds the creatures made was like nothing else on this
earth she had ever heard before –
rose to a feverish pitch, but even those sounds were drowned out by the
monstrous roaring of something even more ferocious, something even bigger, that whatever had hurled itself
at the door before.
“This
could be it,” Cassandra said grimly from between clenched teeth; her arms were
outstretched and her fingers contorted into a series of quick gestures which
she used to sketch invisible symbols and patterns in the air. They glowed a ferocious green and gold for
three or four seconds after their creation, but Cassandra didn’t stop her
ministrations.
“Don’t
let them get in,” Carolyn chanted, “don’t let them get in, don’t let them get
in, don’t let them –”
“But
what are they?” Julia cried, glancing around the foyer for something blunt she
could use as a weapon if she had to.
“Nightspawn,”
Cassandra said, as if that explained
anything.
“Nightspawn,”
Julia repeated, mystified.
“From
your friends, Quentin,” Cassandra snapped, and drew another symbol that flared
up in a burst of dragonish light, then added, “and Barnabas.”
“Oh
no,” Julia whispered.
The
door was buckling. The hinges stretched,
and a blast of cold air from without tousled Julia’s hair.
“It’s
never been this bad before,” Carolyn whimpered.
“Because
our friend Dr. Hoffman has finally graced us with her presence,” a waspish,
catty voice spoke from behind them.
Cassandra maintained her concentration, never diverting from her task,
but Carolyn and Julia both looked, and Carolyn moaned, a low sound like a hurt
animal.
Roger
Collins stood before them, swirling an amber beverage in a familiar snifter
(the one, Julia would bet, he had been holding when Vicki destroyed him so
utterly). He smirked his old smirk and
raised his old eyebrow and shook his head.
“They’ll get in this time,” Roger said, “and they’ll take you,
Carolyn. You and David. As for the witch,” and he directed his
bullet-gaze at Cassandra, “they’ll tear her to pieces –”
“They’ll
try,” she snarled.
“—
as they should have done forty five years ago.”
“You
aren’t my Uncle Roger,” Carolyn whimpered.
“In
one sense, that is true,” the thing masquerading as Roger pointed out. “In another, completely false. I’m a collector if nothing else, my
dear. Ask anyone who has ever died on
this estate. I, shall we say, inherited them, just the tiniest bit.”
“I’ve
seen you before,” Julia said.
“True,”
the Roger-thing said. It grinned,
revealing spotted teeth; things
squirmed between them, tiny green things, but Julia couldn’t drag her gaze
away. “I offered you a warning, didn’t
I.”
“You
told me to bring Barnabas back,” she said, swallowing, “when he crossed over
into Parallel Time.”
The
thing clapped its hands together. “And
you did more than I could ever have hoped,” it sang. “Dr. Hoffman, without you, my plans could
never even hope to reach fruition. I
need Barnabas –” and the snarling outside reached a fever pitch – “and I needed
dear Quentin, and Elizabeth. Died
peacefully,” it said to Carolyn, and snorted.
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
“What
do you want?” Julia asked.
“Why,
it’s simple,” the Roger-thing said. “I
want the Collins family, just as I always have.
I want them, dear doctor, and I will have them. And once I do –”
“You
won’t,” Cassandra said.
“So
fierce,” Roger said, shaking his head again, and changed. Now he was Jeremiah Collins, his face swathed
in bandages, one eye drooping from his socket.
His voice rasped from between his grated lips that oozed yellow
pus. “Angelique Bouchard,” he wheezed,
“working your weak magics yet. They are
nothing to me, do you understand? I will
drink them as I drink the blood from your wounded heart; I will take your power
and use it for the gathering, as I used the power from those fools, Blair and
Petofi.”
Blair?
Petofi? Julia’s eyebrows
leaped up to their full heights.
“You
will do no such thing,” Cassandra said.
“Malum phasmatis,” she
chanted, “ordo vos ut evanui …”
“And
as for you, doctor dear,” Jeremiah
said, but now he was Vicki, poor dead Vicki, dripping with black serpents that
gnawed eternally at her alabaster flesh, “you will die. I need you dead, as you already know; your
spirit has already proven incredibly adept at transcending time. You will want to warn your friends of this
tragedy, of course –”
She
was advancing, her hands outstretched, the ebony snakes hissing, her mouth
wreathed in a horrible smile, all gnashing knitting needle fangs. Julia tried to take a step backward, but
found she was frozen in place. Behind
them, she could barely hear Cassandra’s furious chanting. “Licentia meus domus,” she intoned, her eyes crackling black sparks,
“operor ut Inquam. Meus vox es validus
quam vestry…”
“I’m
not at full strength, you understand,” the Vicki creature said caressingly, as
its withered, damp hands sought Julia’s throat and then closed around it in a
circle. Julia tried to make a sound, any
sound, and failed. The Vicki-thing, its
eyes empty sockets, was inches away from her, close enough to kiss. “But I have enough power to snap your
neck. It’s happened before, Julia, so
you mustn’t be afraid. Then you can go
to them. You can warn them –”
“Genitus!” Cassandra roared; there was a flash of black lightning,
and for a moment, just before Vicki faded away like morning dew, she saw a look
of surprise and hatred cross her features.
The house trembled with a bolt of thunder, and all three women were
pitched to the floor.
Julia blinked, rubbing
her forehead, then cried out a warning: “Cassandra,
the DOOR!”
But
it was too late: the front door, without
Cassandra’s steady chanting, buckled, crumpled, and cracked.
“No!”
Carolyn screamed. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!”
Cassandra
raised one hand, but only a few serpentine sparks floated and danced between
her fingers, then shorted out completely.
Her eyes were wide and very blue.
The
figure in the doorway chuckled without mirth.
Behind it, thrashing furry bodies with emerald eyes twined and
snarled. It stepped forward into the
light of the foyer, but even that luminescence did not render him immediately
recognizable to Julia’s tortured gaze.
“Julia,”
he said soothingly, like old times, from between fangs like sabers that curled
over his lips and down his chin. His
pointed ears twitched high above his head.
“Oh
Barnabas,” Julia choked. “Barnabas … oh no!”
And
the monstrous thing that had once been Barnabas Collins laughed and laughed.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
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