Chapter 47 – No Matter the Cost
By Nancybe
Voiceover (Terry Crawford): In the Collinwood of 1967, a hunted man desperately
seeks a means of saving his now decimated family while in the Collinwood of a
century past, members of that Collins family seek to rule their own destiny –
no matter the cost.
“Have you ever heard of the I Ching?” Eliot had said.
Barnabas shivered as he sat at Stokes’ dusty oak dining table surrounded by a
gloom that seemed to be prerequisite for unoccupied houses. Spread out before
him were the dark wands his friend had mentioned.
“Have you ever heard of the I Ching?”
Of course, he had heard of them. Eliot himself had shown them to Barnabas and
Julia one evening when he had been entertaining them for dinner. They were
displayed among Eliot’s many “toys”, and intrigued by the magic sticks, Julia
had picked them up and ….
Julia.
Just thinking of her name was painful, and he felt the dagger that now lived in
his heart twist and enter even deeper.
Julia.
He missed her; he needed her. He missed all of them, but he *needed* Julia,
especially now. And what added to his pain was remembering the last time they
had been together. She hadn’t seemed at all like *his* Julia then. The woman
who had screamed at him had worn Julia’s face, but her resemblance to his
friend had ended there. That woman had been no more than an empty vessel which
a very evil man had filled with a potion of poisonous hatred.
Barnabas gripped the edge of the thick wooden table with shaking hands and
pushed his memories and emotions aside. It was essential that he discover the
secret of the I Ching if he as going to attempt to save his family. He stared
at the mysterious wands (which were no more than pieces of wood to him) in
confusion and growing frustration for although he knew *what* they were, *he
had no idea how to use them*.
“Have you ever heard of the I Ching?” Eliot had said to him
And then the professor had winked out.
Collins had frantically searched the cramped passageway with is eyes for sign
his astro-projected friend, but he was once again alone in his hiding place.
His only companions seemed to be those with tails and scampering little feet,
and they could not tell him what he needed to know. Stokes had given him the
“what” but not the “when” or the “how”. And so he had stealthily made his way
to the professor’s cottage which was stuffed to the gills with charms, books,
weapons – all manner of assorted occult flotsam and jetsam – and blessedly, I
Ching wands.
For all the bloody good it was doing him.
“Eliot!” he finally called out in a hoarse whisper. “Eliot, I need your help!
Appear to me again,” he commanded.
He sat straight-backed in the hard chair, shifting only his eyes through the
gathering darkness trying to once again discern Stokes’ presence, trying to
*will* him to return to him. His ears strained to hear beyond the deep
thudding of his heart, but they were rewarded with nothing more than the creaks
and groans of the settling cottage.
Barnabas finally buried his head in his hands, as close to utter despair as he
had ever been. “Oh Julia, I need you. I need you so badly,” he moaned.
“I’m here, Barnabas.” The familiar voice was still husky but now contained a
more melodic tone than it had in life.
Nearly knocking his chair over, Barnabas leapt to his feet to gaze in awe at
the vision across from the table from him. His dearest friend, Dr. Julia
Hoffman, stood there bathed in a golden glow that both illuminated and warmed
the chilly room.
“Julia!”
“Yes, dear Barnabas, it is me. I have come to help guide you to the past-”
Barnabas softly uttered a sigh of relief.
“…and to the destiny that awaits you there.”
“Do you know how to use the I Ching, Julia?” he asked in surprise.
She nodded patiently at him. “Do you remember the night I found the I Ching
here? You had to rush off early, something to do with Vicki-”
Barnabas hung his head as he had a habit of doing while conversing with Julia.
“Julia, I’m s-”
“It’s all right, Barnabas.” She waved off his apology and gave him a beatific
smile, and he knew that it truly *was* all right. “After you had left, Eliot
explained the secrets of the I Ching to me. I know enough to tell you what you
need to do.”
“Julia, you don’t know how much this means to me-”
He stopped when he saw that her beautiful smile had faded, replaced by an
expression of intense grief and sadness. “What is it, Julia? What’s wrong?”
he asked, not realizing that he was echoing the same words he had asked her at
their last meeting.
“Barnabas, I have very little time, but I must apologize to you for what
happened that last day, the day I…. I was not in control of myself, Barnabas.
I would never have tried to kill you-”
He wanted so much to go to her, to reach out to her, but he instinctively knew
that that was not allowed. He knew that in lieu of touch, his compassion and
forgiveness would have to be conveyed to her in his voice and in his words. “
I know that, Julia. I know that it was all part of *his* plan. I’m so glad
that we have had this opportunity to make things right between us. You were –
are – a wonderful friend to me, Julia.”
She smiled her thanks to him and the shimmering light that surrounded her
seemed to grow in intensity.
“You must sit now,” she said confidently, and he did as instructed. “Cast the
wands, Barnabas. They will form one of the hexagrams….”
~*~*~*~
1897
This had to be the worst part of this charade. Edith Collins as a servant!
But she had little choice if she was going to accomplish her goals. She was
masquerading as Beth Chavez, and therefore had to assume the girl’s duties –
including ministering to the very insane Mrs. Quentin Collins.
As she hurried through the maze of musty corridors, down slippery stone steps,
around shadowed corners, she tried to escape from the stench of that secret
room and its bizarre inhabitant. But it was the stench of madness, and it
clung to her clothes and hung in her hair like a cloud of rancid perfume. She
was running from it, from that smell that seemed to have a life of its own,
when she skidded around another dark corner and was caught by Quentin Collins -
caught just like a mouse in a trap.
“Beth, Beth,” he drawled as his handsome face split into a lascivious grin.
“Wherever are you going to – or coming *from*,” he paused to look behind her
curiously, “in such a hurry?”
“I’m just going about my duties, Mr. Quentin,” Edith said in Beth’s voice,
managing to sound both annoyed *and* a little frightened.
“*Mister* Quentin?” He strengthened his grip on her and pushed her back against
the wall. “After the other night, Beth, I would think we would be on closer
terms than that.”
His breath was hot on her face, and Edith had to fight Beth’s body’s physical
reaction to Quentin’s closeness. She looked up into his glittering blue eyes –
eyes that had sent at least one woman, maybe more, spiraling into madness – and
tried to respond as she thought Beth would.
“Quentin, not here, not now,” she said in a low voice. “If Miss Judith-”
“What do I care what that whore thinks?” he bellowed down at her. “I’ll do as
I please in this house and everywhere else!”
He bent down to kiss her then, and she could feel him grinding his pelvis
against her. She tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but his strength was
overpowering. The true nature of her predicament occurred to her as his warm
mouth took possession of hers, and she had to stifle her gag reflex. This was
Quentin – her grandson! And he expected her to *be* with him! He more than
expected it, he *demanded* it. The more she fought, the more insistent he
became until she had the impression that he was no long kissing her but
*devouring* her. But she also knew that he must know Beth’s body quite well
because he was certainly getting the responses he had intended.
Knowing that she had little choice in the matter, Edith let Beth’s physical
reactions take over as her mind detached itself to ponder her situation.
Despite his innate cruelty, despite his blackguard’s heart, Quentin had always
been her favorite grandchild. She couldn’t help it; she was no more immune to
his charms than were most other women. But there was more to it than that, and
she knew it. He was the most like *her*, and for that, she couldn’t help but
admire him. He was selfish and always looking out for his own hide, no matter
the cost. Quentin was a very pragmatic man.
Pragmatic. Like her.
No matter the cost.
Of course! Quentin *was* the answer after all. Oh, she’d been such a fool
making Judith her heir! If only she had left her money to Quentin – she could
wheedle him into marrying her as Beth, and she would rule Collinwood again as
it mistress!
As for marrying her own grandson, well, hadn’t she done worse in her own time?
And it was wonderful living in Beth’s young, beautiful body. Marrying Quentin
would be worth it.
After all, she had always been pragmatic.
No matter the cost.
All she had to do now was to devise a way for Quentin to take over the estate
instead of Judith. That was going to take some doing, but she had an idea or
two brewing.
In the meantime, she was going to have to “cooperate” with Quentin, His wolfish
lips had left her mouth to take control of her neck, and she took the
opportunity to place her hand lovingly against his cheek and to moan his name.
She heard him chuckle under his breath at the success of his seduction and
suspected that he thought the outcome had never been in doubt. But in the next
instant, he had pushed back from her and roughly grabbed her hand. His face
glowed as if he had found buried treasure.
“What’s this pretty bauble, my dear?” he asked, holding her hand captive as he
examined the opal and diamond ring. “Wait a minute – this was Grandmama’s!
Did you steal this, Beth, like you did that money? I think you did.” His eyes
had turned the color of the ocean during a thunderstorm, and they gleamed with
the promise of riches to come. “I think I had better reclaim it for the
family.”
As he wrenched it roughly off her finger, Edith’s scream of “Nooo!” echoed in
vain off the empty walls around them. In the next moment, she had slumped
heavily against him causing him to lose his grip on the ring, and it went
clattering off into the darkness.
“Damn it!” he roared as he sought to cast aside the girl and go in search of
his newfound prize.
“Quentin! Leave that girl alone!” He looked up to see the new mistress of
Collinwood striding toward him with the wrath of God stamped upon her angry
face. As Judith approached the pair, she could see that Beth was nearly
unconscious. “What have you done to her, you beast?” she demanded harshly.
“Damn it *all* to hell!” the frustrated man muttered, knowing that he would
have to return later to retrieve his now hidden treasure. He shoved the woozy
Beth at his sister and stormed off down the hall.
The startled Judith managed to support her weakened lady’s maid as she glared
at the retreating figure of the brother to which she wished her mother had
never given birth.
“Come along, Beth. I think we had better get you some tea.” They slowly moved
down the corridor toward the inhabited floors of the mansion, leaving the tower
room and its environs behind.
And alone, off in the shadows, a soft whisper seemed to emanate from an old
lady’s ring encrusted with precious stones.
~*~*~*~
Doors. One after the other. Doors, creaking open. He was passing through,
slowly, slowly. Pain…disorientation…vertigo… The slamming of doors, so many
doors. Darkness, light, darkness, light.
Darkness.
Barnabas Collins opened his eyes, hopeful that he had traveled to the right
time. Hopeful that he could find Vicki and help her save his family.
Darkness. The scent of must and stale air. The scent of decay and rotting
wood. The sound of water dripping…plink…plink…plink. The sound of nothing.
Barnabas reached out into the blackness, and his hands quickly met a hard,
unyielding surface.
The truth was just inches above him on all sides.
“NOOOOO!!!!!”
Darkness.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
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