Shadows on the Wall Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter 67: “Parallel Lines Sometimes Meet”

By Luciaphil

* * *

**“Does it ever get easy?” “You mean life?” “Yeah.  Does it get easy?” “ What

do you want me to say?” “Lie to me.” “Yes, it's terribly simple.  The good guys

are always stalwart and true; the bad guys are easily distinguished by their

pointy horns or black hats, and, we always defeat them and save the day.  No

one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.” “Liar.”**

—Buffy the Vampire Slayer

* * *

Voiceover (Alexandra Moltke): In the aftermath of one crisis narrowly averted,

a new danger has come to Collinsport.  As her friends struggle to restore peace

and normalcy, a young woman finds herself edging closer to a precipice.

Seemingly solid boundaries and alliances are erased and redrawn.  The darkness

grows. 

* * *

Julia didn’t recognize the moment for what it was until she saw it melting away

like ice on a hot day and by then, of course, it was too late.  That seemed to

be the problem with this complicated relationship she had with Barnabas. 

Knowing that now they would have to go through this interminable dance again

only made it worse.  She sighed and made the overture. 

* * *

 

Maggie watched as Nicholas put away the various implements and ingredients from

the ceremony they’d been performing.  “Why don’t you leave that till tomorrow?”

She came up from behind him and ran her nails down his back.  “Let’s go

upstairs.”

He looked at her like she’d just suggested they go up to the local Catholic

Church and do penance.  “These are not items one leaves lying around, dear.”

“Who’s going to come snooping around the basement between now and tomorrow

morning?  We’ll be in the house.”

“I prefer not to take that chance,” he said with that edge in his voice that

would mean business. 

He still treats me like a child, Maggie thought.  It was not the first time

that thought had occurred to her.  She shot him a sharp glance and turned on

her heels and stalked upstairs. 

* * *

“Barnabas, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

Barnabas didn’t say anything. 

This lack of trust would have been understandable, Julia felt, if they had been

mere acquaintances or if they had not known the truth about one another, or

even if there was a reason to distrust her.  But there wasn’t.  After all the

carnage and pain and misery they’d faced, endured and defeated, he still

couldn’t trust her? 

He almost had and that was what rankled.  He’d scared the daylights out of her,

stood there, begged for her help.  Opened himself up to her and she’d let the

chance pass.  “Barnabas, damn it, tell me!”

That jolted him.  “Does it matter?  I’m a vampire again.  What more do you need

to know?”

 

Julia had to admit that he had a point there.  “Let’s go downstairs.  The

equipment .  .  .” she broke off as she saw him shake his head. 

“Julia, I need blood *now*.  I can’t .  .  .  I almost .  .  .”

“I know.” And she did. 

* * *

Vicki felt the tugging on her nightgown.  “What is it?” she asked sleepily. 

Amy’s shrill little voice kept her from dropping back into oblivion.  “You have

to come now.  Hurry up, Miss Winters!”

She sat up and realized with a start that Petofi was in the chair in the

corner. 

“There’s no need to be alarmed, my dear girl.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.  She backed up to the headboard, her

hands wrenching at the sheets. 

He coughed and smiled at her horribly.  “Watching out for my little girl.  It’s

time now.”

* * *

“You did what?!”

Barnabas shifted uneasily.  “I went to see Angelique.”

“Do you really think that was a good idea?”

“Julia, she was the one who initially cursed me.  If anyone could reverse this,

I knew it would be she.”

Julia tried to maintain a careful tone and focused on disposing of the blood

bag Barnabas had drained.  .  “What happened?” Here they went again, she

thought, as he went over the conversation with Angelique, almost certainly

leaving essential points out for whatever obscure reasons he had. 

“You needn’t be so peevish, Julia.  Nothing happened.”

Should she waste her breath pointing out that it wasn’t the best idea in the

world to encourage an obsessive narcissist?  No, she decided.  He wouldn’t

listen anyway. 

“Julia, I realize your treatments will work, but they’ll take time.” Barnabas

went over to where she was standing.  “That has never been a commodity we’ve

had in large supply.”

Well, that was true enough.  Julia nodded.  “I wonder if Vicki could help,” she

said thoughtfully. 

“No.”

The firmness of the word was like a slap. 

“But if she could—”

“We cannot risk that,” he said emphatically.  “Every time she uses her powers

it seems to bring her closer to darkness.  I won’t have it.”

“No, you’re right,” Julia agreed, pushing down a niggling feeling of jealousy.

“You’ll have to do it my way then.” She went over to a table.  “I’ve been

making some adjustments to the formula.  I think this will help.” As she turned

around with a hypodermic, she realized suddenly he was gone. 

* * *

The wallpaper in the corridor was peeling away in great rotten sheets and

underneath, the walls pulsed like some living thing.  All Vicki wanted was to

get out of this house. 

“It’s not much farther,” Amy promised.  True to her word, she opened a door. 

Vicki stared into yet another dank corridor and stepped out into nothingness. 

She fell for a long time. 

* * *

 Nicholas adjusted his tie.  He stepped away from the mirror to examine the

effect. 

“How much longer?” Maggie demanded. 

“As long as it takes, my dear.”

“You have powers.  Why don’t you used them on the old bitch and be done with

it?  If you think that I’m going to—”

He had been prepared to give her his reasons—which he did have.  Circumstances

had displaced Elizabeth Stoddard from his list of priorities—up until Maggie’s

last sentence.  Carefully picking a speck of lint from his lapel, he addressed

her without making direct eye contact.  “I do hope that isn’t a threat.”

She was unmoved and ignored that.  “What are you waiting for?”

Nicholas folded a handkerchief into his breast pocket.  He wasn’t sure if these

increasingly frequent episodes of Maggie’s were borne of genuine rebellion or

were an attempt to get him to pay more attention to her.  He knew she was as

excited by the violence he could display as he was.  If it were the latter,

then he could excuse her, except for the fact that it was an ill-timed

overture.  If it were the former, than he would have to discipline her again

and there would be nothing playful about it.  He glanced up just in time to see

her focusing her eyes on the mirror. 

“Shatter.” She pointed a finger toward the mirror and a spark of poison green

witch fire shot out.  The mirror obligingly broke into bits. 

She had his full attention now.  He raised his hand to her. 

Maggie stepped backwards, but it was in no way a retreat.  “I really wouldn’t

try that again.”

“You seem to think we are equals,” he remarked in that carefully casual way he

employed when he was furious.  “We’re not.” Annoyed by the fact that this

little tantrum was now going to make him very late, Nicholas set about

disabusing Maggie of this delusion. 

* * *

Vicki woke with a start. 

“Shhh,” Quentin coaxed.  “It’s just a bad dream.”

“It all felt so real.” She tried to get out of the iron cot, just like the one

she used to sleep on at the orphanage and felt her bare feet touch the carpet

of the drawing room. 

Dr.  Julia Hoffman tapped a notebook.  “They often do,” she said coolly.  “Now

tell me about your dream.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to,” Barnabas snapped at Julia. 

Elizabeth Stoddard beamed at her.  “Are you feeling better, dear?” She didn’t

wait for an answer.  “Good.  Would you go and see where the children have got

to?”

“Elizabeth!” Barnabas was shocked. 

“Well, Vicki is employed by me, after all.”

Roger offered Barnabas a brandy snifter full of blood.  “There you are, old

man.  Better leave Liz alone.  It won’t matter much longer anyhow.”

Julia tapped her notebook.  “Vicki is our only chance.”

“Servants, like children should be seen and not heard.”

Roger gave Vicki his hand.  “They’re in the garden.” He gave her a

conspiratorial wink.  “You’ll show them all soon,” he whispered. 

* * *

Damn it.  Damn it to hell.  Julia hung up the telephone and suddenly wanted to

beat her head against the wall.  Why did Barnabas do this?  What was the point?

He couldn’t have gone to find a coffin, not yet.  It was still hours before

sunrise. 

And his reversion to vampirism wasn’t even the worst of their problems.  Or at

least, not the most immediate.  If Stokes was right, things were worse then

they’d guessed.  They had a new priority.  A very dangerous, new priority. 

Screw it.  Tomorrow she was going to talk with Vicki.  If Vicki could help

them, then they had to take whatever risks were necessary. 

* * *

The garden was the most beautiful place Vicki had ever seen.  Black and dead

and cool and lush, and vibrant all at the same time.  So exquisitely enchanting

that she thought her heart would break. 

Roger released her hand and backed away. 

Two robed and hooded figures stood in front of a stone altar. 

“Victoria, come and be welcomed.”

She stood frozen and stayed where she was. 

“It is time.”

“He waits,” a voice hissed. 

Victoria couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from.  They didn’t belong

to the priests at the altar.  People behind her? 

Something dry and cool to the touch skated across her legs.  Victoria looked

down and saw serpents twisting their way up her legs. 

“He waits,” the voice repeated. 

The snakes were speaking, she recognized faintly.  They were all over her now,

on her arms, in her hair, on her legs. 

It was only when she realized they were in her mind as well that she started to

scream. 

 

* * *

Nicholas wasn’t familiar with the room Elizabeth had chosen for their

rendezvous, but was pleasantly surprised by it.  “But this is charming.”

“It might be cold, but we’ll have it to ourselves,” was Elizabeth’s reply.  “I

had Mrs.  Johnson come into clean a few days ago.”

Nicholas was busy inspecting the charms of the conservatory.  “It must have

been something in its day,” he said as he examined the marble floors and the

carving on the word work.  Ice had frosted over all of the windows surrounding

the room and the light cast by the period fixture suffused the room with a

pleasant glow.  There were a few pieces of furniture that Elizabeth had

evidently ordered placed in here; they went with nothing in the room, but she’d

chosen them for their utility, of course.  When this was his, he’d see that .

.  . 

“I suppose,” Elizabeth remarked absently. 

Another reason that Collinwood should be his—if he needed justification, which

of course he didn’t.  She simply didn’t appreciate Collinwood. 

“We used to come in here during dances when the ballroom got too crowded, but

it was faded even then.” Elizabeth told him.  “Father had it shut up shortly

before Lou—before the war started.”

“I wish I could have known you back then.”

Elizabeth’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile.  “Do you?”

Not for the first time, Nicholas reminded himself that although the Elizabeth

Stoddard who stood next to him hadn’t butchered forty-odd people undetected,

his inamorata included, she was essentially the same woman, still possessed of

the capability for that much depravity and duplicity.  It gave these

interactions of theirs a fillip that he appreciated.  “The times we would have

had,” he said roguishly. 

“That’s true,” Elizabeth admitted.  She faced him now. 

The impatience in her expression was gratifying.  Nicholas actually did enjoy

these trysts.  She wasn’t quite the “withered old bitch” that Maggie termed

her.  What Elizabeth lacked in youth, she made up for in experience. 

* * *

Julia handed Vicki coffee. 

“Thanks.” Victoria took the cup and stared at it blankly.  “I need this.  I

didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“At least you slept,” Julia pointed out.  “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem.”

Victoria hadn’t expected much from Julia, but was it too much to ask for a

little sympathy?  She could press it; she knew Julia would listen if she did,

but what was the point?  She couldn’t verbalize the nightmare.  She’d tried.

But every time she tried, something in her urged her to silence, to hug the

dream to herself; it wasn’t meant to be shared.  Not yet. 

“Carolyn—”

“Is possessed,” Victoria finished.  “We knew that.”

“Eliot Stokes has done some research.  Unfortunately, this isn’t a random

spirit.”

Of course not, Victoria thought somewhat impatiently.  There were patterns.

There always were.  This was part of something much greater. 

“He thinks she’s been possessed by the spirit of Danielle Roget.” Julia took a

sip of her own cup of coffee.  “That’s all right, I didn’t know who she was

either.  Apparently, she was a killer, who came into her own during the French

Revolution.”

Victoria considered that.  “How do we get Carolyn back?”

Julia didn’t say anything. 

“I can’t .  .  .  Julia, I can’t use my powers again.  I might not .  .  .

Julia, I’m scared.  Every time I use them, it’s like I get sucked into this

darkness.  What if I can’t get back again?”

Julia nodded.  “I know.  It’s a risk.”

She thinks I’m being hysterical, Victoria realized. 

“Vicki, we don’t have much of a choice.  What else can we do?  Have her

arrested?  Even if we could subdue her enough for the authorities to put

Danielle in prison, there’s nothing we could do.  We can’t force her to leave

Carolyn’s body.  Psychiatry isn’t going to work.  She’s not insane, well, she

is,” Julia admitted, “but she’s a psychopath.  There’s no treatment.  The point

is we can’t bring Carolyn back by those methods.”

“You don’t know that.”

“All right, let’s say we could.  Everyone will think Carolyn’s a killer.  What

do we tell the police when we do?  The truth?” Julia grew less sarcastic.  “We

need you.  The professor thinks you’re strong enough.”

How would he know?  Victoria thought with anger.  How would any of them know?

How could they possibly understand?  “I can’t.” It came out as a plea. 

“You have to.” Julia rubbed her temples.  “There’s no other way.  You’re our

only hope.”

 

* * *

Elizabeth buttoned up the cuffs of her dress, unobtrusively checking her

wristwatch as she did so.  Enjoyable as these encounters were, she had other

things to do with her day.  Besides, lately, Nicholas had been making

disagreeable noises about loneliness and how wonderful it would be if they

could spend more time together.  If he proposed, then she would have to put an

end to the affair, a process which would probably be very tiresome.  She

glanced at Nicholas to see if he’d caught her checking the time, but he was

busy looking for a reflective surface. 

The windows were still opaque, but now only partly from the ice. 

“Is this crooked?” he asked, pointing to his tie, and apparently annoyed that

he even had to ask. 

“A little bit.  Here let me.” She made a few minute adjustments.  “There.” She

started to move away, but he caught at her wrists.  Her smile faded as the

pressure increased.  “You’re hurting me.” Still, she made no effort to twist

away. 

“Ah, but you like that.”

The quiet intensity in his voice thrilled her.  Thoughts of meetings and

housekeeping details faded.  “Won’t Maggie mind if you’re late?” she asked

disingenuously, adopting a wide-eyed expression.  She liked to provoke him

sometimes. 

He pushed her against the wall and kissed her ferociously.  He released her

hands.  She dropped one of them down to his trousers. 

“You really are quite depraved,” Nicholas remarked with pleasure. 

“And you like *that*,” Elizabeth informed him just as intensely. 

* * *

 Roger had stopped fighting the voices some time ago.  Really, what was the

point?  Lately, it only aggravated him when they kept him from drinking, which

they were doing now.  He had something to do, they told him.  Something

important. 

He sighed.  Oblivion would have to wait. 

It was in Carolyn’s room.  “The human with the blonde hair” was how they

referred to her.  The part of his mind that was unencumbered found the way

they’d said “human” disturbing, like it was intrinsically filthy.  He tried not

to think about that too much. 

Oblivion was what he needed to stay sane. 

He slipped into Carolyn’s room and began rifling through her drawers.  He

didn’t know what it was the voices wanted, but they would no doubt tell him

when he found it. 

And they did. 

It was an odd little thing.  Gold, older looking, no real identifiable period.

Two serpents intertwined. 

The voices hissed ecstatically. 

Roger clasped the amulet in his hand and prepared to leave.  They’d let him

drink now. 

“Leaving so soon?” Carolyn made a moue of disappointment.  “With the bijoux?”

“Carolyn,” he said blankly.  “There you are.  Liz is looking for you.” It was

the first thing that came to his head. 

She shook her head and licked her lips.  “I don’t think so, monsieur.  Quel

dommage.”

It was then he realized she held a stiletto in her hand. 

“Carolyn!  Carolyn!  What are you doing?”

“I liked you,” she told him as she advanced, “but I think I will like your

insides more.”

Someone slammed the bedroom door. 

“Get away from him.”

The thing that was in Carolyn barely had time to identify this new player.  In

an instant some force had lifted her into the air and flung her against the

wall. 

* * *

Nicholas waited as Elizabeth locked the door behind them.  “Elizabeth?”

“Yes?” She gave her hair one last pat and then started down the corridor. 

“I would like to speak with you.”

“Can't it wait?  I have so much to do today.  I really should deal with Paul

before *that* situation gets out of hand.”

Nicholas frowned.  “Paul?  Who is Paul?”

She gave him that bright-eyed look again.  “My husband.”

It was with difficulty that he kept his jaw from dropping.  “Your husband?”

“Yes.”

Nicholas reached out and stopped her from moving. 

“I’m sorry, didn’t I tell you he was back?  I could have sworn .  .  .  ”

“But I thought you were divorced.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twisted.  “No, I’m not.  Did Maggie tell you differently?

It’s not her fault.  I’m sure most of the people in town think that’s the case.

No, I never divorced Paul.” Her eyes were practically dancing with amusement.

He resisted the urge to slap her.  He needed to think.  “Is that why he came

back?  For a divorce?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  We didn’t get that far.  He wanted to see

Carolyn.  It doesn’t matter really.”

“Of course, it matters!  How can we be together if you’re still married to

him?”

“The same way we just were.”

She was bored, he realized with a shock.  Or growing bored.  The discovery

niggled at his vanity.  He was used to women liking him, especially after he’d

exercised his considerable charm.  Part of the reason he had not used his

powers on Elizabeth was because it didn’t seem necessary.  Why waste the energy

that was needed for other matters when he didn’t have to? 

She waited politely. 

“If it’s Maggie that has you worried,” he began.  “I can assure you that it’s

not what you think.” They were alone here in this dusty hallway.  He would

simply impose his will on her and she would divorce her husband simply because

he told her to. 

“Oh, I’m not worried at all.” Elizabeth detached her hand from his and began

walking toward the main part of the house.  “It must have been very tiring

trying to placate her.”

He noted the use of the past tense.  “What do you mean?” he asked in spite of

himself. 

“Well, she must have hated you spending all this time with me.  I imagine she

had a few choice words for me.”

“Maggie was not exactly complimentary, no.” Nicholas dropped all pretense; it

wouldn’t be necessary in a moment or so. 

“She’s young,” Elizabeth said too charitably.  “She probably made the same

mistake about me that you did.”

“Which was?”

Elizabeth smiled now as they walked.  “Thinking that I was ever under the

impression it was anything but the money and Collinwood that brought you here.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he replied truthfully.  “I have enjoyed our time

together.”

“Have you?”

She didn’t care what his answer was.  Oh, this was maddening.  That this aging

society matron, clearly past her prime, shouldn’t realize how fortunate she’d

been that he’d lavished so much time and attention on her, that rankled. 

“Well,” Elizabeth said brightly.  They were in the foyer now. 

Nicholas was seething.  “I would like to speak with you.”

“But that’s all—”

He took her arm and pulled her to the study.  His expression was stony.  Oh, he

was going to make this woman obey him.  This time there would be no fun and

games. 

Elizabeth shrieked.  “Paul!”

Nicholas looked down at the blood-soaked corpse at their feet.  One obstacle

out of the way. 

* * *

Choice was no longer an option for Victoria.  Seeing Danielle preparing to

slice open Roger had settled that. 

Danielle was stunned for a moment, but only a moment.  And then she was a

shrieking animal lunging for Vicki, her knife drawn. 

Thought wasn’t really a consideration anymore either.  Victoria didn’t think.

She simply *was*.  There was a roaring in her ears more intense than anything

she’d ever heard.  She saw Danielle, Julia and Roger, but they were faded like

they weren’t quite real.  It was in the inky blackness she could see what

needed to be done. 

Danielle lunged for her again and again, her murderous screams growing shriller

with every failure to strike blood. 

Victoria threw her head back and let the darkness wash over herself.  As it

filled her, she felt the exultation.  “BE GONE!”

 

* * *

Something was wrong, deeply, intrinsically wrong.  It was in the nature of

Nicholas Blair to exult in evil and darkness, but this was different.  This was

.  .  .  chaotic?  He wasn’t quite sure, only that something was wrong.  As he

and Elizabeth stared down at the corpse of Paul Stoddard, Nicholas felt

sickened.  Not because of the body or the blood, but because there was

something psychically rank filling every inch of air in the room. 

He looked at his would-be bride and slave and noted with interest the utter

dispassion with which she regarded her late husband.  “Are you all right?”

“Yes, just a little startled.”

In another time band, this was a woman who’d caused similar carnage.  Nicholas

thought about that.  “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not.” Elizabeth moved a few feet closer to the body.  “It’s the type of

thing that would happen to Paul.  Although I would have thought he would have

met his end in a bar or an alley.” Something else occurred to her.  “Do you

think whoever did this is still here?” She didn’t sound alarmed, just curious.

Nicholas had no idea.  He bent down, being careful not to let the blood from

Paul soil his clothes and shoes.  The psychic stench grew stronger.  “Tell me.

Did your husband have any .  .  .  hobbies?”

She wrenched away her gaze from the body and stared at Nicholas.  “Hobbies?”

she repeated incredulously. 

He elaborated, “Interests, shall we say?  Something that might have gotten him

murdered.”

“He liked money,” Elizabeth said dryly.  “Anything that would get him money

*interested* Paul.”

“Something slightly outré, perhaps?  Not .  .  .  conventional.”

Elizabeth seemed to be mulling something over in her mind.  “He brought a man

here once.”

Nicholas waited. 

“Paul had a lot of ‘friends,’ but this one was different.  He took advantage of

Paul, instead of the other way around.  He took advantage of all of us.  My

sis—everyone in the family.” She paused a moment, “Do you think we’re in any

danger?” It came out as something she was obliged to say. 

“No.  Go on.  What was this man’s name?”

Elizabeth nearly spat it out.  “Victor Fenn-Gibbon.  He was disgusting in every

possible way.  I don’t know how it was, but he made Lou—he could make people do

the most insane things.”

Petofi.  It had to have been Petofi.  “And your husband brought this man here?”

She nodded.  “After I—after Mr.  Fenn-Gibbon—went away, Paul wasn’t here much

longer.  A year maybe and then he left.”

Nicholas stood up and backed away from the corpse, trying to lessen the feeling

of nausea.  “What else?”

Elizabeth shrugged.  “I’m still not sure what you’re asking.  Paul slept with

almost anything that moved.  I suppose a boy he’d picked up could have killed

him.  Maybe Paul promised him money.”

“No,” Nicholas said with finality.  “Did Paul have any interest in the occult?”

“Paul?!”

That sounded like a negative. 

Elizabeth laughed bitterly.  “Paul liked money.  It was the reason behind

everything he said or did.  Oh, he liked sex, but it was always the money.  It

wasn’t even power.  I might have liked him better if it had been power.  But it

wasn’t.  He liked money and he liked the things it brought him.  He didn’t

really care about much else.  He spent whatever he could get his hands on and

then he wanted more money.  He was really a very simple man.” Done delivering

this brutally frank eulogy, she turned away from the corpse, and directed her

attention to Nicholas.  “Should we call the police?”

He swayed. 

Alarmed, Elizabeth caught him and pulled him out of the room.  “Are you all

right?  The smell was dreadful in there.”

Nicholas stared at Elizabeth as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

* * *

Carolyn Stoddard knelt on all fours and retched.  The stiletto lay abandoned

across the floor.  She heaved until there was nothing left inside and then she

started to sob. 

Victoria’s eyes were dark and swirls of emerald and ebony energy ran up and

down her arms. 

Julia didn’t see.  She was trying to comfort Carolyn. 

“Blood.  So much blood.”

“Shh, it’s all over now.  You’re all right.  She’s gone.”

“Blood.  It was horrible.  I couldn’t—”

Roger’s eyes were closed and no one noticed that he clutched something in his

hand. 

Victoria Winters was in the room and she wasn’t.  She saw Carolyn sobbing.  She

heard her telling Julia the fragments that she did remember.  She heard Julia’s

platitudes.  But she didn’t.  It wasn’t quite real, not quite as solid as the

black exquisite garden she inhabited at the same time.  It wasn’t filled with

the shrieks of the room.  The darkness wrapped around her like some wonderful,

comforting eiderdown. 

And then it went away and she was back in the bleak, harsh, mundane world

again.  And it was hard.  

TO BE CONTINUED ...