Shadows on the Wall Chapter 74

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 ...