Road Trip

Angelique Rumson, recently widowed, tossed a long lock of honey-golden hair over the shoulder of the sky-blue coat she had donned earlier that brisk afternoon and placed both her hands firmly and squarely on the leather-encased steering wheel of the car she had purchased only yesterday.  She adjusted the sunglasses she wore on the bridge of her aquiline nose, then patted the passenger seat of the car and stretched her lips into a cat’s smile.  With not a little trepidation, Barnabas Collins climbed into the seat next to her, glancing around nervously and screwing up his face against the light.  He was still adjusting to life without the curse after nearly two years of vampirism.  “Don’t look so apprehensive,” Angelique purred at her most demure.  “I know it’s been awhile since I’ve been behind the wheel of a car …”

“I know, I know,” Barnabas said hastily.  He recalled his last two ventures in one of these fiendish metal contraptions, and the damage that had been wrought on both occasions.  Because of these “cars,” he had eventually lost Vicki to Jeff Clark and had nearly killed Cousin Quentin.  “It’s just that, even after nearly four years in this century, I still can’t quite get the hang of them.”

Angelique tittered.  “Come now, Barnabas.  You’re such a fraidy-cat sometimes,” she said, employing one of the more hilarious phrases she’d heard Amy Jennings use just that morning.  It conjured up the most delicious images of old Joshua Collins – in the form she most preferred him – and made her nose wrinkle with pleasure.

“But – and I hate to ask this, Angelique, I honestly do – but … when was the last time you actually operated an automobile?”

She batted her eyelashes, barely visible through the smoky glass of her shades.  “Well,” she said after a moment, “Roger never got around to teaching me to drive, and Sky was only able to give me a few lessons before his tragic … accident.”

Barnabas swallowed, then dived swiftly for the passenger side doorhandle.  He groaned as the doors locked themselves.  “Ah, ah, ah, Barnabas,” Angelique giggled, waving one warning finger beneath his nose.  “You promised to help me finish my driving lessons, and I think you owe me a favor or two after all I did for you in 1840.”

Barnabas pondered his, then finally nodded his head.  His shoulders slumped.  “All right, Angelique,” he said.  “First, pull the gearshift down into –”  But his words were cut off as the tires squealed like a woman in pain and the car shot out of the gates of Collinwood and onto the main highway.

“Why Barnabas!” Angelique exclaimed.  “You’re looking a little green around the gills, my darling.  What on earth could be the matter?”

Barnabas pressed a hand to his mouth.  “I … I’m feeling a little car sick,” he groaned.

“We’ll be to Collinsport in a few seconds,” Angelique assured him gently.  “Then we’ll get you to –”

But the wail of a siren cut her off.  She scowled as she glanced into the rearview mirror and thrust out her lower lip when she caught sight of the flashing reds and blues of the police cruiser that had appeared as if magic behind her.

“Pull over, Angelique,” Barnabas said.

“Like hell,” she growled, then twisted the wheel sharply to the right and sped onto an unpaved road that led deep into the blackest depths of the woods that cradled the grounds that belonged to the Collins family.

Behind them, the police car circled around and turned deftly down the road.

“Angelique, I’m warning you,” Barnabas said in his most commanding voice.  If only I had retained my hypnotic powers, he thought mournfully.  “I’ll give your portrait to Amy Jennings when we return to Collinwood, and if you think Sam Evans did a job on it, wait until Amy starts with the crayons I bought her.”

Still pouting, and with flinty eyes spitting ice-blue sparks, Angelique reluctantly slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

A lantern-jawed officer swaggered slowly to the car, then tapped on the windshield.  Angelique thrust out her chin as she rolled down the windshield and stared pointedly ahead.

“License and registration, please, ma’am,” the officer said.

“License?” Angelique said.  A slight smile played on her lips.

“You do have a license, don’t you ma’am?” the officer said.

“I don’t believe that I do,” Angelique replied.  “Nor registration.  Can I go now?”

The officer offered her a wintery smile.  “’Fraid not, ma’am.  You see, you were exceeding the speed limit back there by almost eighty miles an hour.  We don’t take too kindly to that in Collinsport.”

“I imagine not,” Angelique said with an arrogant toss of her head.  “I’ve lived in Collinsoprt for over two hundred years, and the locals still haven’t learned their place.”

The officer frowned.  “Are you trying to make a joke, ma’am?”

Angelique beamed wickedly.  “Not yet, tiger.  Give me time …” She traced the strong line of his jaw with one finger before she tugged seductively on his tie.

The officer sighed.  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car, Miss …?”

“Mrs.,” she said.  “Rumson.  As in Rumson Enterprises?”

“Never heard of ‘em,” he replied instantly.  “Step out of the car, Mrs. Rumson.”

“Oh, very well,” Angelique said with a roll of her eyes and a sigh of irritation.  She looked for a moment to a paper-faced Barnabas and blew him a kiss.  “Be right back, my darling.”

“I doubt that very much, ma’am,” the officer said.

Angelique winked at the ex-vampire in the car.  “I don’t,” she purred as she stepped out into the sunshine.

Once they were alone, the officer said, “Ma’am I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in.  One count exceeding the speed limit, reckless driving, assaulting an officer –”

“Do you find me attractive?” Angelique mewed.

His eyes widened.  “Excuse me?”

Angelique shook her tawny head.  “You poor, stupid man,” she sighed.  “I’ll have to show you the hard way.”

His hand dropped to the butt of the pistol at his side.  “Step away from the vehicle, ma’am,” he commanded.

Angelique dropped her sunglasses, revealing the tantalizing, limpid pools of her eyes that gleamed with promises of pleasures yet to come.  “I want you to look into my eyes, Officer,” she whispered, “as deeply as you can …”

A moment later and the car door reopened as Angelique slid gracefully into the driver’s seat.  She brushed her hands together, then started the ignition and shifted the car into reverse.

“What happened?” Barnabas asked, his eyes narrowed slits, suspicion in the set and curl of his mouth.

“Nothing much,” Angelique said.  “He let me go.”

“Let you go?” Barnabas exclaimed.  “But why?”

“He didn’t have much of a choice,” she tittered.  “Not in his condition.”

Behind them, a bat fluttered for the sky, straining to find the safe shadow of a tree before its tiny wings could burst into flames.

“Angelique!” Barnabas gasped as he watched the little rodent vanish into the forest.  “You – you didn’t –”

“What can I say?” Angelique said, shrugging.  “Old habits die hard.”