Chapter 35: Funhouse Mirrors
By Nancybe
Voiceover (Jonathan Frid): Nothing is as it seems this day and night on the
Great Estate of Collinwood. Spectral visions roam the halls and the grounds of
the Collins family mansion casting false reflections in all directions. And one
woman is in mortal danger as she finds herself face-to-face with a secret from
her past.
Vicki furrowed her pretty brow and peered more closely at the still bold
signature as if that would unravel the mystery.
"'Your loving *sister*, Elizabeth'?" she repeated. She lowered the yellowed
Valentine and looked at Quentin in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Uh, Vicki... ." the ancient young man stammered. Should he tell her? Should he
explain? Was that the best thing for Vicki, for the family? Hell, she *was*
family - now. "Vicki... ." he tried again.
"*Vicki* must be told the truth!" exploded a voice which came from Vicki's
mouth but did not belong to the young governess. Its timbre was more shrill
than Vicki's, and when Quentin looked at her sharply, he thought he even
detected a slight change in her facial features.
Shocked almost into silence by the young woman's sudden rage, Collins had to
summon his courage to speak. "Who are you?" he asked in a hoarse whisper,
fearing that he already knew the answer.
"I am *Elizabeth's* loving sister," the woman with Vicki's face spat back at
him. "*Loving* sister. When did she ever love me? When did she ever do anything
but try to hurt me? She treated me like a child!"
She abruptly crumpled the delicate card in her hand and threw it petulantly
into a corner. She turned back to face him. Quentin waited for her to continue
her outburst, but her face suddenly went slack, and she stared back at him with
blank eyes.
Quentin rocked back on his heels, and studied the girl. He was terrified at
what he had just witnessed. Victoria had been possessed by Louise, there was no
doubt about that. And he didn't know when - or if - she was going to let Vicki
go. Louise was obviously quite mad, and Quentin was afraid of what she might do
in possession of Vicki's body. What if she tried to harm Vicki in some way?
That thought galvanized him, and he started to move toward her to reach out to
her.
"Vicki... ."
His movement brought animation back to her face. "Don't touch me!" she hissed
as she scrabbled back out of his reach - and closer to the rope ladder. "You're
a friend of hers, of sister Elizabeth's, which means you are no friend of mine.
It's all her fault. She took my baby away, told me I was too young. And then
she sent her away! She's a Collins, she belonged here, and she sent her away!
Well, it's time she knew. It's time my baby knew! I'm going to show her who she
really is!"
She lunged for the ladder, but Quentin's long arm snaked out and grabbed her by
the wrist. Louise snarled at him, and surprised by her viciousness, he relaxed
his hold allowing her to slip free and scramble down the ladder. Reduced to
moving on all fours because of his height, Quentin started after her but was
slowed when a sliver of wood from the treehouse's worn boards shot a bolt of
pain into the palm of his large hand.
"Ow!" he yowled as he brought the injured hand up to his face for inspection.
Shaking the burning hand, he clambered awkwardly down the ladder in time to see
Vicki/Louise dashing through the woods in the direction of Collinwood. What in
hell was she planning to do? How was she going to prove to Victoria that she
really was a Collins?
"Louise! Vicki!" he yelled, not knowing which name to use as he loped off after
her. But despite his long legs, her head start and agility quickly put her out
of sight.
"Dammit," he muttered, finally stopping to catch his breath in the crisp
December air. "Guess I should get out of Collinwood more often and exercise,"
he said as he stood head lowered and hands on hips trying to slow his breathing
and forget about his injured hand.
A soft rustling sound off to his right caused him to look up sharply. Maybe
Vicki had stopped too, and he could catch up to her. He took a step forward and
then froze. No more than twenty feet from him, behind a copse of skeletal
trees, stood a woman. A long gown of emerald green flattered her statuesque
figure and dark red hair framed her expressive face and flowed like a river of
crimson down past her shoulders.
*Jenny.*
It couldn't be. He peered through the crystal curtain of snowflakes that had
begun to float lazily down from the leaden sky. The woman stared back at him
with soft eyes and with a slight smile playing around the corners of her full
lips. He swore it was Jenny. But then again, he had thought he had seen Beth
earlier, and she had faded into nothing but the shadows on the wall.
Beth, Vicki, Louise, Jenny. Was he losing it?
The snowflakes coalesced into a silver waterfall and then separated into
distinct entities once more. And when he looked again at the trees ahead, there
was no one there. She had been nothing but a trick of the fading light. He
sighed with relief and shaking his still stinging hand, realized he had better
get back to tracking down Louise. Or Vicki. Or whomever.
A light touch on his arm startled him, and he whirled around in surprise.
"It *is* you!" he exclaimed, the throbbing in his hand totally forgotten.
*****
The decanter shook violently in his hand and sloshed its golden liquid in and
around the crystal glass. Roger Collins put the dripping container to his dry
lips and quickly downed its glowing contents, then shakily poured himself a
refill. Holding the snifter with two hands, he haltingly crossed the room and
slumped heavily onto the divan.
*What have you done?*
"What I had to do," he said in an agonized whisper to the empty drawing room, a
room that had absorbed the filthy secrets of the Collins family for hundreds of
years. "I had no choice."
*You just helped murder a woman you didn't even know.*
"I had no choice! I didn't want to do it, don't you understand? *They* made me
do it! HE made me do it!"
*But you *fed* an innocent woman to that *monster*... .*
"Shut up!" he screamed back at himself. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
It was bad enough that *they* were always at him, always gnawing at the edges
of his brain with their little razor teeth. Now he had to listen to
recriminations in his own voice as well.
"I didn't want to," he said again weakly. He closed his eyes and leaned his
head against the back of the divan. "I didn't want to."
He felt drained, tired, *used* - and totally disgusted with himself. What had
happened to the man who'd had the courage to literally burn away Cassandra's
influence on him? Ever since Vicki had *healed* him, he'd been nothing but a
pile of jelly for the *things* that had invaded his brain.
He opened his eyes into slits and looked down at himself. Even his appearance
was disgusting. His clothes were dirty and torn, his face bristled with
stubble, and he could barely tolerate his own body odor. Why, he smelled worse
than that lout Loomis!
But he lacked the strength to even drag himself to his room to clean himself
up. At least the voices had been silenced by the (sacrifice, human sacrifice)
offering of the woman. Well, not silenced, but they were as quiet as they ever
got. It wouldn't be long, however, before they would be at him again.
What had Vicki *done* to him? he asked himself for the millionth time. And what
of Julia? Vicki had healed her too. No, not healed - more like brought her back
to life. And as far as he could tell, the doctor was not experiencing the
horror with which he was living.
Roger closed his eyes again with a sigh. "Well, at least one of us came out of
this unscathed," he murmured before falling into an exhausted sleep.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
*****
Julia Hoffman glanced up at the full moon as she negotiated the snow covered
path between the Old House and Collinwood. The mottled lunar surface shimmered
and winked at her through tissue paper clouds as if taunting her with its
secrets.
"Well, I don't have time to worry about celestial secrets. I have enough right
here at Collinwood to keep me quite busy, thank you very much," she muttered
into the night.
Secrets. They seemed to reign at Collinwood, to be part of the very air. Two
parts oxygen, one part secrets. They swirled around all who were foolish enough
to live on the Great Estate, making up the fabric of their lives.
Barnabas, Vicki, Roger, Chris - and even Julia - had their secrets. Some were
serious, some were hideous, and others, well, others were just a shame. Not
*shameful*, just a *shame* that some thought they had to be secrets. Like
Chris' secret.
Julia couldn't stop thinking about Chris and how he had sobbed in her arms. She
had surprised herself when she had told Chris about Raymond. She didn't tell
many people about Ray; Barnabas didn't even know. It was too painful, and she
considered it a personal failure on her part. But Chris had needed to know
about it at that point.
She shook her head sadly as she crunched through the fine crust of snow that
layered the ground. This was the 1960's, for Pete's sake. Ray had killed
himself over his sexuality over twenty years ago. Why was this still an issue?
Still, she couldn't help feeling that there was something else going on with
Chris, something more ominous. The Jennings' clan seemed to have as many
troubles and secrets as the Collinses - especially the boys, Chris, Tom. Oh,
Tom... .
Julia stopped abruptly and sniffed the air. What was that scent? Something so
incongruous to a chilly December evening in Maine... .
Lemon drops! She smelled *lemon drops* out here in the middle of the woods.
And lemon drops always made her think of Raymond.
Ray had loved lemon drops, had almost always carried a small paper sack full of
them. He had sucked on them incessantly, driving their poor mother to
distraction with worry over his teeth. He usually got them at their
grandmother's little general store, and Julia could still see her robust
white-haired grandmother digging the little silver scoop into the glass jar,
filling up a sack for Raymie.
But why should she be smelling lemon drops tonight, here, on the grounds of
Collinwood?
Julia resumed walking (it was too cold to be standing still), nestling her
frozen hands more deeply into the lined pockets of her tweed coat. *It must
just be the association,* she told herself. *I told Chris about Ray and that
got me to thinking about my little brother which led me to how he always
smelled of lemon drops. Simple association.*
For the rest of the journey home, Julia forced herself to set aside her
memories and concentrate on the troubles at hand.
*****
Ten minutes later, the weary doctor entered the foyer of the silent mansion.
None of the family seemed to be about, and the thought brushed Julia's mind
that they were all curled up with their little secrets for the night, hugging
them close as they slept.
As she turned to hang up her brown and green coat (wondering vaguely why
Barnabas had given her such an odd look the first time she had worn it), the
sour scent of lemon drops filled her head once more. She paused and that was
when she heard the whisper. It was as soft as a caress, as soft as a sound
could be and still be audible to human ears.
Julia turned around, her heart beating just a little faster, but the foyer was
still empty and wreathed in dark shadows. She narrowed her almond shaped eyes
trying to see into the gloom when a slight movement near the stairs drew her
attention.
"Who's there?" she called boldly.
Another whisper, another rustle. Closer this time.
"Come out this instant," she demanded in her best no-nonsense physician's
voice.
"You always did boss me around, Jules." The voice was deep but as smooth as
silk. And as familiar as her own name.
Julia Hoffman's hand characteristically flew to her throat, and she sucked in
her breath with a small rasping sound. Before her stood a tall young man with
auburn hair, so tall and thin that he could be called lanky. His face was
sculpted into features almost too delicate to be considered masculine, and his
high cheekbones mirrored Julia's own. He was still 19 years old going on 40 and
looked exactly as she preferred to remember him. He did not look as he had the
last time she had seen him - his face was no longer purple and bloated, a
swollen tongue did not loll from his slack mouth, there was no thickly knotted
rope looped around his blackened neck.
"Yeah, Jules, it's really me," he said, answering her unspoken question.
*Jules*. He had always called her Jules. He had even convinced her to apply to
medical school as "Jules Hoffman" so that they couldn't reject her outright
because she was a woman. And it had worked, too. But he hadn't lived long
enough to see her attend the school to which he had helped her get accepted.
"But how?" she managed to croak through her shock. He couldn't be here, he just
couldn't. He'd hung himself all those years ago. She'd found him there in the
garage, home over Christmas break after his first semester of college, unable
to bear what he perceived as society's rejection of his sexual orientation. And
so he couldn't be here.
But he *was.*
"You're wondering why I'm here, *how* I can be here. I'm here because you need
me, Jules. I found that out from Vicki so I've come to help you."
"From Vicki?" she mumbled and started to add, *I don't understand* but stopped
herself before she began to sound like the sometimes clueless young governess.
"That's not important now. What *is* important is that you realize what you
must do. I know you've been worried about Roger and Vicki and Chris and," he
paused and looked at her almost slyly, "Barnabas. And I've come to help you, to
show you how you can help *them*. It's really very simple, Jules. There is
someone who can solve all of the problems in this house. He can make everything
all right. You just have to go to him, Jules. And I can take you."
He stopped and smiled at her, a warm, sweet smile, Raymond's smile. They had
always gotten on amazingly well for a brother and sister - nothing at all like
Elizabeth and Roger, it occurred to Julia - and it was so wonderful to see him
again.
His voice was like a breeze on a sultry summer night, and she felt herself
falling under its mesmerizing spell. His chocolate brown eyes were wide and
clear, and she was being drawn into them as well. It had been so long since
they had been together, since they had shared happy times. She had no family of
her own now, hadn't had for years, and although the Collinses had accepted her
into theirs, she was still acutely aware that she was only "adopted". Now here
was her very own brother, her own *family*, and she wanted nothing more than to
be swallowed in his big hug.
"Oh, Ray, I've missed you so much," she said, half containing a sob. He took a
step forward and engulfed her in his long arms.
"I've missed you too, Jules." Something in his voice caused Julia to look up
into his face. For just a moment, it had sounded garbled - like a record played
at the wrong speed. And now his face - underneath the skin, his face looked
rotted, and the sweet-sour scent of lemon drops was giving way to the smell of
decay. And his eyes - as they looked down at her, they changed from their warm
chocolate hue into a flat black, glowing like polished obsidian, and she
started to pull away, to cry out -
"Jules," he said smoothly, pushing her back a little to look into her face
which was now painted with panic and alarm. His voice was so soothing that she
calmed at once. His face was young and healthy again, his eyes soft and warm.
He released her and dug a hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a small sack
and popping several bright yellow candies into his mouth.
"Lemon drops, remember?" he grinned at her.
"Yes, I remember," she answered slowly. She felt so sleepy, as if her eyes were
weighted down (*With pennies?* a voice nagged at her). Yes, sleepy, warm and
sleepy, and so happy. Happy to be with Ray again. She would do anything to stay
with him, go wherever he wanted her to go.
"He's waiting for you, Jules. He can help you. But first, you must help *him*.
Take my hand. I'll take you to him."
Raymond held out his and, and Julia took it gladly. It felt a little strange -
cold and damp, almost slippery - but it didn't matter. She was with Ray again
even though she had failed him so long ago. She was with him, and he was whole
again and healthy, and he was taking her up the stairs to someone who could
help her, who could help all of them. She felt rather like Dorothy heading down
the yellow brick road to the meet the Wonderful Wizard -
Julia felt a blast of icy air swirl up the stairs and heard the bang of the
front door echo behind her.
"Julia!" Barnabas' deep voice urgently called to her. She looked down at him
and felt her brother's strong grip on her hand evaporate. She turned back to
cry out his name, but there was nothing ahead of her on the stairway but dank,
empty air.
Julia looked back down at Barnabas who now stood at the base of the stairs
yelling something up at her. His words spiraled down into a vacuum, but they
registered somewhere in the recesses of her mind: "Julia, the werewolf! I know
who it is!"
Julia's mouth opened. She tried to speak, to respond to what Barnabas had said,
to tell him about her brother and about the man who could help them. But no
words would issue from her dry lips, no breath would flow from her struggling
lungs. Her eyes clouded over into a milky jade color - and Julia Hoffman's body
crumpled and fell down the stairs into the arms of an astonished Barnabas
Collins.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
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