Chapter 74 - Silver Linings
By Nancybe
Voiceover (Don Briscoe): Horror wears many faces at
Collinwood this night.
Some on the Great Estate choose to descend into evil
while others have evil
thrust upon them.
But regardless of the motivations, the transformations that
result will change the fate of the Collins family
forever.
Barnabas Collins staggered to his feet and tried to
ignore the stench of
burning human skin that now clung to his clothes. He turned wild eyes on the
young woman he had once believed to be so
innocent. Victoria Winters, the
sweet girl who tended to remind him of his beloved
Josette, met his stare
without flinching.
Instead, it was Barnabas who flinched - because where
Vicki’s lovely doe eyes should have been were only
black holes that looked like
nothing more than chutes that led to the very gates of
Hell.
Barnabas shuddered and shifted his gaze to his tall
cousin. Quentin Collins
seemed enthralled by the wisps of silvery white smoke
that twined around
Vicki’s body like an insubstantial boa constrictor. “Quentin.
Quentin!”
“Hmmm?” the younger Collins murmured, grudgingly
tearing his eyes away from the
phantom snake.
“Quentin, we need to get Victoria back to
Collinwood. She’s…she’s not well.”
A trilling laugh emanated from the Vicki-thing making
the skin prickle on the
back of Barnabas’ neck. “On the contrary, Barnabas, I’ve never felt
better.”
The underlying note in her voice, the one that sounded
like she had gravel in
the back of her throat, seemed to snap Quentin out of
his trance. “Umm,
Barnabas, I think I’d like to have a word with Vicki
first. Privately.”
Was it his imagination or did Quentin’s voice seem
shaky? Could his cousin
possibly now be afraid of the woman he loved? “I’m not sure it’s a good idea
to stay out here right now, Quentin. Why don’t we-”
“No, Cousin,” Quentin responded, his tone now
firm. “This is something that
can’t wait.
We’ll be fine right here.”
“But-” Barnabas began before stopping to cock his head
toward the woods.
Music. He heard
music in the distance. And it was a tune
he knew well. Very
well.
*~~*~~*
“Julia!”
He had followed the sound of the tinkling music
without another thought for
Quentin or Vicki.
His darling Sarah had already appeared to him tonight, and
her petulant words still resonated in his head: Why
won’t you try to be good?
You have to try. He had always hated to disappoint
his little sister. And now
he clearly heard the song that played when Josette’s
music box was opened. Was
Josette waiting for him, too?
But the woman who waited for him was not Josette,
although she was another
person he had always hated to disappoint.
“Julia, what are you doing out here in the woods? It’s not safe.” His mind
drifted guiltily to a vision of a black-eyed
Vicki. “And you could catch a
chill.”
He had winced at the expression he had seen on Julia’s
face when she had first
seen him.
Fear. She had tried to mask it,
but she had looked like a deer that
wanted to cut and run.
It had been a long time since Julia had been afraid
of him. What
he had seen more often on her face was fear for him, and this
reversal reminded him of just how much he had reverted
back into the monster
she had first known.
Monster. Yes,
he was still a monster. And the thirst –
he had not gotten the
relief he had expected when he had first set out into
the woods. Carolyn had
not come to him.
The episode with Vicki and Charity Trask had diverted his
attention for a while, but now he remembered just how
sharp his need had been.
And he could smell Julia’s blood. She was so close, so warm. She had offered
before; perhaps it was time to accept-
“Barnabas.” Was the tremor in her voice from fear or
from the cold? He tried
to ignore his need and regain his control. “I, uh, I’ve been looking for you.”
Her gloved hands nervously clutched an object as if
she was afraid of dropping
it, and Barnabas felt a shock when he recognized what
she held.
“Josette’s music box!
Julia, what are you doing with that?” He hadn’t meant to
sound threatening, but the doctor shrank back a bit
into her wool coat,
fumbling with the music box before shoving it hastily
into a pocket.
“It was Sarah’s suggestion.”
“Sarah?” he asked, taking hold of Julia’s arms in a
firm grip. “You’ve seen
Sarah?”
“Barnabas, you’re hurting me!” Her fear was back, and
he abruptly dropped his
hands.
“I’m sorry, Julia.
It’s just that Sarah came to me earlier-”
“Sarah appeared to you? Barnabas, Barnabas, what did she say?”
“She…” he began, bowing his head and turning away from
her. “She asked me why
I didn’t try to be … good.” The last word was spoken
so softly that Julia had
to strain to hear it.
“Oh, Barnabas.” She laid a hand on his arm, and he
knew that this time, her
trembling was not from fear. “Yes, I’ve seen Sarah , too. She came to
Angelique and me during a séance.”
“A séance? You
and Angelique? But why, Julia?”
“Barnabas, we didn’t know what else to do! You wouldn’t listen to either of
us, and then you attacked Carolyn… Barnabas, I’ve
perfected the serum, but I
was afraid you wouldn’t take it. Angelique thought that maybe we could contact
someone, a spirit, who could tell us how to reach
you. Sarah appeared and told
me I was the only one who could help you and to use
the music box… Barnabas, I
was desperate!”
A vortex of emotion enveloped him. Julia and Angelique, vicious enemies the
last he knew, had joined forces to try to save him
from himself. They had
entreated the dead for help, and his own little sister
had responded to tell
them what to do.
And Sarah had come to him herself to admonish him and to
plead with him.
Why? Why did they care so much
about him? He was evil. He
was an animal.
Right at this moment, he wanted to rip open Julia’s throat and
taste the blood that sang to him from beneath her
skin. But Sarah had begged
him to try, and Julia had braved coming to find
him. He had to try. And
Julia had mentioned a serum…
Picturing his sister’s pale and serious face, he
willed the warring forces
inside of him to concentrate on Julia’s words. “Serum?” His voice sounded like
a croak, and he fought to strengthen it. “Julia, did you say you had perfected
the serum?”
The hope – and love – on her face made him want to
sob. “Yes, Barnabas, I
think this one will work. You should be able to…control your needs, and
then
you won’t..
. You can let Carolyn go. Oh Barnabas, will you let me try it?”
He licked his lips imagining them coated with Julia’s
deep crimson blood.
No, Sarah whispered in his head. Promise me, Barnabas. Promise to try.
“Yes, Julia. I
will do whatever you say,” he agreed in a quiet and contrite
voice.
“Oh, thank God!” Her smile made her look quite lovely,
and he wondered when the
last time was that he had seen her happy.
“Julia,” he said, looking down again and cradling his
silvered temple in one
hand. “Why do
you bother with me? You have every right
to give up on me and
go back to your own life. How can you ever forgive me for what I have
put you
through?”
Her silence caused him to look up into eyes that now
sparkled in the sterling
moonlight with unshed tears. “I think you know the reason, Barnabas.” She
looked away then shivered violently as a gust of icy
wind swirled around them.
“Come, Julia,” he said, quickly taking her arm. “Let’s return to the Old House
and get you out of this cold.”
She nodded, and he pulled her tightly to him to shield
her from the wind, still
fighting the urge to sate his thirst. “I have much to tell you, Julia. This
has been quite an unusual evening.”
“And what night at Collinwood is not unusual,
Barnabas?” she countered.
*~~*~~*
Victoria Winters stood quite near to where she had
vaporized Charity and Tim
Shaw, nonchalantly examining her fingernails. Quentin half expected her to
cock one hand into the shape of a gun and blow the gun
smoke from the end of
her index finger.
“Vicki, are you sure you’re all right?”
“As I said before, Quentin, never better.” She
finished scrutinizing her hands
and looked up at him.
He was relieved to see that her eyes were chocolate
brown once again - well, almost.
Maybe it had all been a trick of the light.
“But, what you did…I mean, you just – well, fried
them.”
“They were vampires, Quentin. Vicious, soulless vampires, for God’s sake.
Someone had to do something, and I was just the
first to act.” She let out a
little sob, and turned away from him, but not before
he thought he saw her lips
curl into a grin.
“Do you think I liked destroying them?”
“Of course not,” he said quickly, moving to take her
into his arms. “You know
I’m just worried about you, don’t you?”
“You don’t need to worry about me. Didn’t I just prove I can take care of
myself?” She pushed back away from him, obviously
impatient with his
questioning.
“Are we done here?”
Quentin was suddenly struck by her resemblance to a
cartoon character he’d seen
once in some movie about a bunch of dogs. What had that woman’s name been?
Cruella de Vil?
And with that memory, the pieces of the puzzle began
to fall into place,
clicking together so neatly that he must have been
blind before not to have
seen them:
Vicki talking as they walked by the sea. I can feel myself being pulled
toward a deep, dark place.
Vicki destroying Danielle Roget, and a lock of silver
hair appearing on her
head.
And now, Vicki immolating two vampires - and two more
locks of silver hair.
Dear God, what was happening to her?
“I said, are we done here?” she repeated, tapping her
foot on the frozen
ground.
“No. No, I
don’t think we are.”
“Well, what is it, Quentin? What’s on your mind?”
“I…I had a conversation with Eliot about …about what’s
been going on at
Collinwood.
He’s felt it, too, the presence of evil.
The rising of evil.
He’s done some research, and the theory he’s come up
with is rather scary.”
“Theory?” she asked in a bored voice. God, she didn’t even sound like Vicki
anymore.
“He thinks the …creatures responsible might be -
Leviathans.”
“And what, pray tell, is a Leviathan?”
“According to Eliot, they are a race that ruled the
earth long before our kind
ever made an appearance. They were evil, the purest of evil
apparently, and
incredibly powerful.
But at some point, mankind made a stand against them, and
they were banished, although no one knows to where.”
He hesitated, not really
wanting to tell her the other part. The important part.
“And? Spit it
out, Quentin.”
“And - Petofi was involved with them.”
“My father was involved with the Leviathans?”
He nodded and reached up to caress her face. “Vicki, honey, I’m scared. I’m
scared that your powers, well, that the source of
those powers might be these
Leviathans.
That they might be using you…” He stopped when he saw her face
darken. “You
said yourself that you were afraid of how your powers made you
feel-”
“Not anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My powers don’t scare me anymore, Quentin,” she said
as she advanced on him.
“In fact, I love them and how they make me
feel. I’m not helpless Vicki
Winters anymore, the orphaned waif the Collins were kind enough to take in as
a servant. No,
not anymore. I am awesome. Now do you understand, Quentin?
Awesome.”
And Quentin Collins did understand. All too well.
Because Vicki’s eyes had
changed into those elevators to Hell once again.
“Oh my God!” he shouted at her. “Eliot was right. They are you. You are
them!”
“Quentin, please calm down. You’re getting much too upset.”
He opened his mouth, but he could no longer
speak. He tried to move, but he
could no longer walk.
Vicki’s stare had him frozen in place like a butterfly
pinned against black velvet.
“You will forget this conversation, Quentin Collins,”
she intoned as she laid
her hand, glowing with azure fire, against his
head. She then pressed cold
lips against his in a brutal kiss before stepping back
to look up into his
slack face.
“Quentin? What were we talking
about, darling?”
She furrowed her brow in confusion when he did not
answer. His eyes though
wide open were now quite blank. Vicki placed her hand against his head once
more and was rewarded with – nothing. He lived, but did not live. Instead of
simply making him forget their conversation, she had
wiped his mind clean.
Quentin Collins was completely brain dead.
An old Bullwinkle line popped into head as she thought
about what she had done.
“Don’t know my own strength,” she said aloud, and then
giggled horribly.
And unknown to Victoria Winters as she stood in the
ancient woods of
Collinwood, another lock of her hair turned silver,
then turned dark again
before turning back to silver. Silver, dark, silver, dark, over and over
again
as if a strobe light played upon her silky
tresses. Because Quentin Collins
was dead, but not dead.
But dead.
But not dead….
*~~*~~*
Julia Hoffman was a jumble of emotions. She was relieved that Barnabas had
agreed to let her treat him again. She was overjoyed that they seemed to be
friends again.
She was thrilled by the closeness of his masculine body as he
guided her through the woods.
And she was heartbroken that she still did not trust
him.
She had seen the way he had looked at her
earlier. She recognized that look;
she’d seen it on Barnabas’ face often enough,
especially lately. She had seen
it on Tom Jennings’ face, too. Hunger.
Desperate hunger. For human
blood.
Barnabas wanted to take her blood.
She had wanted that once, too, to share her blood with
him. But that was
before. Before
he had become more like an animal than the man she had come to
know. And she
was petrified of that animal and what it might do to her. She
had no desire to become the husk of a human being that
Carolyn had become.
He’d shared with her all of what he had termed the
“unusual” things that had
happened this night, and she knew that he had not fed,
at least not enough to
meet his needs.
She knew that her proximity was tormenting him; she had
watched as he repeatedly squared his jaw in an effort
to control himself. If
he lost control out here in the woods, no one would
hear her screams…
Julia was suddenly desperate to see another human
being. Up ahead, a faint
light peaked through the thick stand of trees. The cottage.
Chris was home,
thank God. She
wasn’t sure if he technically qualified as a human being, but
he would do.
Any port in a storm. Or in this
case, any werewolf in a pinch.
“Barnabas,” she shouted to be heard above the howl of
the wind. “I’d like to
check on Chris.
According to Eliot, something very strange has been going on
with him. The
cottage is right here…”
“Of course, Julia.”
When they arrived at the cottage, the front door was
unlatched and banging
lustily against the jamb. As they exchanged worried looks, a chill that
had
nothing to do with the winter temperature slithered
down Julia’s spine. She
was suddenly sure that this was not going to be the
safe haven she had
envisioned.
Barnabas pushed the door halfway open before he met
with resistance. “Julia,
something is blocking the door on the inside. Something heavy.”
“We have to get in there, Barnabas! Chris might be hurt or-”
Using his shoulder, Barnabas pried the door open far
enough for the two of them
to enter the cottage.
The floor inside was slick, and Julia had to grab onto
Barnabas to keep her footing. Catching her breath, she looked down. Thick
puddles of dark red had pooled at the base of the
door, and her low-heeled
pumps were now sticky with the stuff. And something else was near the door,
something that had kept them from opening it all the
way. A body. Huddled
there as if it had tried to flee from something or
someone but had never made
it past the door.
As a doctor, Julia Hoffman had witnessed many
atrocious sights and as a
resident of Collinwood, she had witnessed many
more. But the corpse she bent
to examine now was the most hideous thing she had ever
seen.
“Julia, who…who is it?” Barnabas asked in a muffled
voice. He had turned away,
and Julia was quite sure it had nothing to do with the
shredded body before
her. He was
trying to control his shaking, and Julia’s guess was that the odor
of fresh blood that permeated this charnel house was
driving him mad.
“I can’t tell.
The corpse is so mutilated that it’s almost impossible to even
determine the gender.
The back of the head seems to have been ripped away, and
the face looks like it’s been…chewed off. And the lower body, I’ve never seen
such-”
Julia froze as a growl, soft and low, came from
somewhere near the back of the
cottage.
Rapidly growing in intensity, the sound soon began to reverberate off
all four walls.
“Julia, come here,” Barnabas commanded quietly as the
doctor slowly rose to her
feet.
Positioning himself in front of her, he called to the current owner of
the cottage.
“Chris? Chris, we won’t hurt
you. We want to h-”
The growl abruptly changed into a shriek, and Julia
clamped her hands over her
ears. In the
next moment, the shriek was replaced by what sounded like giant
mandibles clicking together. And then that sound was followed by a
sibilant
hiss so horrible that Julia dug her fingers into her
hair.
The creature – there was no other word for it –
stepped from the shadows then,
and Julia’s hands flew from her head to cover her mouth. She wanted to scream
and scream and scream until she woke herself from this
nightmare - because what
she saw now belonged only in the realm of
nightmares.
At first, it resembled the
wolf-that-walked-like-a-man, but that incarnation
quickly morphed into what could only be described as
insectile. Its flesh
seemed to melt and mold into a myriad of eyes, and
antennae sprouted briefly on
its head. And
just as quickly, those features turned fluid until a reptilian
creature glared back at them, an impossibly long
forked tongue flickering in
and out of its mouth.
Shining green scales grew on its face until gray tufts
of hair and a lupine snout suddenly took their
place.
And on and on it went.
“My God, Julia, is that…can that really be Chris?”
The doctor bit her lip and nodded. She’d been unsure herself until she saw the
gold wristwatch on the creature’s left arm, a watch
that Chris was never
without. It had
been a gift from Tom. And there was
something else that
erased any doubt from her mind, and it made Julia want
to retch - this
insect/reptile/wolf thing was wearing Chris
Jennings’ cologne.
The metamorphic process was constant now and occurred
so rapidly that they
could no longer distinguish between the creature’s
different forms. There was
no way for them to even comprehend what they were
seeing.
“Julia, we have to get you out of here,” Barnabas said
urgently, backing toward
the door.
But it was too late.
With lightening quickness and an unnatural agility, the
creature sprang.
Julia landed hard on her back, the breath driven from
her body in a sickening
thump. She
looked up into the kaleidoscope eyes poised above her and knew
there was no humanity left behind them. Barnabas crossed the room with a roar,
and she turned her head in time to see him brandish
his wolf’s head cane at her
attacker.
She waited for the recoil from the silver and for her
release.
It did not happen.
Instead, the thing-that-had-been-Chris knocked the
cane from Barnabas with a
snarl and returned its attention to her. It was not afraid of silver.
She was going to die.
*~~*~~*
“Bravo, my dear, bravo!” Nicolas Blair exclaimed,
clapping his gray-gloved
hands. “ I
daresay I’ve never seen a human being turned …inside out… before.
Very well done!
Who was he?”
“My father,” she answered, and her voice was
dead.
“Really? How
delightful! What did he want?”
Maggie walked over to her father’s body and ground one
red stiletto heel into
something next to him on the floor. “Something that wasn’t here.”
*~~*~~*
“Maggie, darling, you know you don’t belong here,” Sam
Evans had pleaded.
“Come home with me.”
His daughter glared at him from beneath coal-black
lashes. “I do belong here.
Nicholas loves me, and I love him. So get lost, Pop.”
“Maggie, you can’t mean that! You’ve always been such a nice girl. Now look
at yourself.
You look like a …”
“A what, Pop?
A whore?”
“No, no! I
would never say that, Maggie. But this
isn’t you. You’ve never
dressed like this or worn your hair so…dark. Look, look what I brought,
darling.” He fished in his pocket for a moment. “Remember this?” he asked,
holding out a cameo he had painted of her only a year
before. “How young and
innocent you looked?
This is the real you, Maggie.”
She snatched the small painting from him and stared
down into the face of a
girl she no longer knew and didn’t want to know. What a bore she had been.
What a stupid little bitch! Well, that girl no longer existed.
She spit on the painting and viciously threw it to the
floor.
“Maggie!” Sam cried, kneeling to retrieve the
picture.
“Get out of here now, Pop. I’m warning you,” she said in a voice low and
dangerous.
“No, Maggie.
I’m not leaving without you.”
“Then you’re not leaving.”
Sam Evans’ eyes grew large as he watched his baby girl
stretch out her arms and
begin to incant words that were no more than gibberish
to him. He watched as
an unseen wind whipped around her and swept her hair
into an ebony corona that
glowed black around her impassioned face. He watched as …things, horrible,
wriggling, silver things began to flow down her body
and across the floor
until they merged into one mammoth wriggling thing –
one mammoth thing headed
straight for where he knelt next to her painting.
And then he watched no more.
*~~*~~*
In a warm, soft bed in the Old House, Angelique Rumson
dreamt that a once loved
voice called her name.
She wanted to run to the voice; she wanted to run
from the voice.
“Angelique.”
She opened her sapphire blue eyes, and he really was
there. Scrabbling away
from his touch, she pressed her body against the
backboard of the bed.
“You! You witch! Stay away from me!”
*~~*~~*
Julia Hoffman knew she was going to die. She was going to die on the floor of
this pathetic little cottage. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.
She could hear the tearing of fabric and feel the
renting of flesh. She could
smell the scent of blood as veins were ripped open and
could taste its
saltiness as it flowed down the back of her
throat. And she could hear
Barnabas’ screams of rage and impotence as she lost
her life to something out
of a Saturday Monster Movie Matinee. The only thing missing, some part of her
brain clamored, was the melodramatic music.
Music. A
memory, a phrase: Music soothes the savage beast. Or was it
breast?
Her hand desperately worked its way into her coat
pocket and found the
cylindrical object she had shoved in there, oh, about
a century or so ago.
Frantically searching for the edge of the lid, she dug
her fingernails under it
until it flipped open, filling the room with the
melody of a woman long dead.
For a long moment, the snuffling and slobbering continued. But then the
pressure on her chest began to ease, and finally,
Julia Hoffman’s world faded
to silver…and then to black.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
No comments:
Post a Comment