Chapter 81- Let Freedom Ring
By Nancybe
Voiceover (Christopher Pennock): Freedom is a precious
commodity these days for
the inhabitants of the Great Estate of Collinwood. And those who seek freedom
will find that it comes at a greater cost than they
ever thought possible.
Sometimes, inebriation provides clarity of vision,
stripping away all pretense.
Such was the case for Roger Collins as he glanced up
at the approach of a
skipping and grinning Amy Jennings. Perhaps it was the too wide grin that gave
her away. Or
maybe it was just his natural instinct for self-preservation that
alerted him. In
any event, Roger had no doubt that this Minnie
Mouse-voiced little imp had come to kill him.
"No!" he shouted, holding out both hands as
she advanced upon him. "You stay
away from me!"
But the alcohol that had alerted his senses to danger
now robbed his body of
its speed and coordination, and he stumbled backward
to avoid the girl's
assault, all the while feeling as if he was
underwater. Feet and legs
entangled, he fell back hard, wincing as he jarred his
tailbone against the
floor. But with
the lurid grin of the hell child looming over him, he failed
to notice his cut and bleeding hands, victims of the
decanter he had shattered
earlier.
"You stay away from me!" he bellowed again,
flailing his arms so violently that
he pushed Amy into a chair and knocked the hypo from
her hands, sending it
skittering across the floor.
"Damn it!" the girl-creature screeched as
she struggled to regain her balance.
"You'll be ssss-sorry you did that." Her
voice was a hiss that sounded
decidedly less than human.
And in the next fraction of a second, there was
nothing remotely human about
Amy Jennings at all.
She had simply ceased to be, and what replaced her
shocked Roger into complete sobriety.
A column of black.
A column of black that swayed and undulated above the
drawing floor where the girl had stood just a moment
before. And within the
column, a myriad of eyes, pairs of ruby red eyes,
pairs of emerald green eyes.
A multitude of glittering eyes that stared at him with
hunger and malevolence.
Roger Collins blinked and then blinked again. A column of eyes? It wasn't
possible. The
D.T.s? He shook his head; no, he was
stone cold sober now.
Sober enough to recognize that the eyes were attached
to hundreds - or was it
thousands? - of
silvery bodies that twisted and twined inside the ebony cloud.
And then the column floated closer to him, and
.hissed, a long, loud sibilant
hiss, and a host of gleaming gold tongues darted out
in unison. Roger screamed
and clutched his head as the voices in his mind
answered the creatures. The
pain was searing as Leviathan answered Leviathan, and
through his agony,
Collins realized that Amy Jennings had metamorphosed
into not one Leviathan
but rather into a community of Leviathans. His screaming continued as he
felt those who had taken residence in his head so long
ago begin to flee, like
rats deserting a sinking ship. Amy was going to kill him, and it was
finally
time for his own personal demons to depart.
The squirming, stinking column now hovered just inches
above his face, and he
closed his eyes, praying that his death would come
quickly. At least, I'll
finally be free of them, he thought as, in the foyer,
the grandfather clock
began to chime.
*****
Victoria Winters rushed through the front door of
Collinwood, letting it slam
behind her.
Something was happening here; she could feel it. And taking
just a few steps toward the drawing room, she could
see it as well.
An amorphous cloud of black was poised over Roger
Collins. Within the cloud,
serpents with jewels for eyes slithered in
anticipation, and Vicki was
immediately reminded of her black garden, her own
Garden of Eden in negative,
which ran rampant with the dark snakes.
She instinctively knew that the Leviathans had decided
to kill Roger. And she
knew that she couldn't let it happen.
"STOP!" she screamed, but the hissing cloud
hesitated only a moment before
descending closer to the man's face. Saying no more, Vicki simply translated
her command into a thought, and the being before her
instantly exploded,
sending a shower of scorched and squealing serpents
raining down upon the prone
Roger Collins.
He screamed as the burning bodies fell upon him, some dead,
others smoking as they slithered away to die under the
antique furniture.
Vicki surveyed the room for a moment, in shock that
she had had to do no more
than think the Leviathans dead. She hadn't even had to give the push that
had vanquished Danielle Roget. Had Jeb's birth so heightened her
powers?
She glanced down to see that her polished high heel
rested upon the writhing
body of one of the loathsome creatures and had to
stifle a mad cackle. Hadn't
she seen sculptures of the Virgin Mother with her heel
grinding down upon the
head of the serpent in the garden? Was she now some kind of perverted Mary
(although far from a virgin) slaying the snakes that
threatened her son? Was
she the mother of a god trying to free him from his
enemies?
Grief, exhaustion, and threatening madness pressed
suddenly down upon her, and
Victoria felt her legs give way as she slid gracefully
to the floor in a dead
faint. And when
Roger Collins finally shook the last snake off of himself and
stopped screaming, he crawled over to the unconscious
woman - only to find that
her eyebrows and lashes now matched her snowy white
hair.
*****
Maggie Evans left the old rectory surreptitiously
clutching the precious mask
to her breast.
It seemed to thrum with power, and she could hardly believe
that the treasure was truly hers. She hurried down the path, anxious to remove
herself from any prying eyes that might envy her
prize.
"Maggie," a soft voice called out to her,
just a whisper on the wind.
She ignored it, telling herself she had imagined it.
"Maggie." The voice was stronger now, more
commanding. The young woman stopped
and gasped at the vision that blocked her escape. An auburn-haired figure in a
diaphanous gown hovered slightly above the ground -
and she looked all too
familiar.
"Mother?" Maggie called out in
confusion. "What-"
"Maggie, listen to me; my time here is
short. You must not keep the mask! It
will destroy you."
"Nicholas, if this is some kind of trick-"
"Maggie!
This is no trick. I am your
mother. You know it; you feel it.
I've come to help you.
I've come to keep you from making the same mistake I
did."
"Mistake?"
"Yes, my darling.
You never knew; I never wanted you to know. But I, like
you, was also tempted by the dark arts when I walked
the earth. I was
attracted to the promise of power, the allure of
becoming something more than a
small-town girl."
"You?" Maggie asked, flabbergasted by this
information. "You were a-"
"A witch, Maggie.
Yes, and eventually, it was my undoing."
"Did Pop know?"
The woman nodded solemnly. "Yes, he knew. And that's why he tried so hard to
stop you from choosing the same path."
"And I ...
killed him." Maggie ached with the first spark of humanity she had
felt in a long time.
Mother and daughter were silent for a moment
remembering the man they had both
loved.
"All of that is done, Maggie," the specter finally said,
breaking the
silence.
"And there is nothing you can do to change it. But you can still
save yourself, and that is what Sam would have wanted
for you above all else.
Give up the mask; otherwise, you will end up like
me."
Give up the mask?
After she had fought so hard to destroy Nicholas, to win it
for herself and her Master? "But...but I can't! It's mine!
I...I need it. You
don't understand-"
"Oh, but I do understand, my dear. I understand all too well. I understand
that if you keep it, your soul will be lost. You will be damned for all
eternity! You
must take the mask to Stokes. He will
know what to do with it.
And then you can be free! Now goodbye, my darling daughter. Do not fail me."
And then she was gone, and Maggie was left standing
alone on the path, staring
down into the hypnotic gaze of the Mask of Ba'al.
****
"...of Medusa.
It is essential to our success. I
was fortunate enough to have a
colleague-" Stokes was saying to the Rumsons when
the frantic ringing of his
doorbell interrupted him.
He opened the door only to have a dazed Maggie Evans
tumble over the threshold.
"Take it, take it, before I change my mind!"
she babbled, thrusting a shining
object at Stokes.
"What in the name of God?" Angelique cried
upon seeing the jeweled face in the
older man's hands.
"It's the Mask of Ba'al," Sky muttered
hoarsely, backing away from where the
professor stood examining the mask. "Stokes, get rid of it!" he
screamed,
covering his face with his hands. "Get rid of it!"
"Sky! What
is it? What's wrong?" Angelique
quickly crossed the room to where
her husband stood trembling with fear. "Sky, tell me!" she demanded.
Reaching out to him, she gently pried his shaking
fingers from his face and
then let out a yelp - for where his eyes should have
be were just two round
disks that glowed like large, flat, black pennies.
"Stokes...it...must...be...destroyed." Sky's voice sounded mechanical, almost
robotic, and hearing it, his wife shivered and wrapped
her arms around herself.
Taking one look at the man, the portly professor
couldn't have agreed more with
the assessment.
"And it will be, Mr.
Rumson. Tout de suite."
*****
"Barnabas," Julia had protested, "I'm
tired, and I have no desire to go
tromping around the East Wing inhaling dust and
getting cobwebs in my hair.
Just because you feel some sort of compulsion to go
there, doesn't mean-"
"Julia, I've tried to explain to you that I'm drawn to that strange room, and
the feeling has been getting progressively stronger
lately. Now, will you
please come with me?"
Was it his sensual voice or that handsome face? "I always lose with you, don't
I, Barnabas?" she said softly, giving him a wry
but rather sultry smile.
"Come," was all he said, but she didn't miss
the triumphant gleam in his dark
eyes as he took her arm. Barnabas Collins had Julia Hoffman wrapped
around his
little finger - or perhaps around his ring-laden index
finger - and they both
knew it.
That was how the redheaded doctor found herself
standing before the very dirty,
very deserted room that her friend insisted
periodically became an ornate and
very occupied bedroom in some other dimension of
time. But right now, it was
nothing more than a storeroom that smelled musty and
was making her nose itch.
"Barnabas," she finally said in
exasperation, "We've been standing here for
twenty minutes, and nothing has happened. Look, I'm sure there is someone in
this house who needs me to give them a sedative or
there is some monster that I
need to help destroy, so if you don't mind-"
"Julia, just a few more minutes. Please.
The room has rather a mind of its
own, I'm afraid, but it could change at any
moment." He watched as she narrowed
those exotic eyes of hers and crossed her arms and
knew he was not winning her
over. He
decided to pull out all the stops.
"Please, Julia.
For me?"
She briefly wondered if this was his idea of foreplay.
"Oh, all right," she sighed. "But just a couple of minutes, Barnabas,
and then
I'm leaving."
And just as he smiled and began to thank her, it
happened.
"Barnabas!" Julia had thought she was
prepared for this, but the reality of it
was overwhelming, and she raised her hand to her
throat in a characteristic
gesture.
"Look!"
The room was now ablaze with light, the behemoth of a chandelier
doing its job
admirably. A
jeweled music box on a nearby table tinkled a soft tune, and the
scent of lavender wafted through the air.
Julia was astonished to see Roger Collins standing
rapt in front of a mammoth
painting of Angelique who was swathed in an azure
dress that accented the color
of her eyes.
Julia reached out to grip Barnabas' arm. "It's Roger! But how.It looks
exactly like our Roger. This makes no sense."
"I know, Julia.
I had the same reaction the first time I saw the room change.
That is Roger, but it is not Roger. And how that can be, I do not know."
The silent man in the room staggered back from the
portrait and took a gulp
from the sloppy glass he held in his hand. Apparently, some things remained
the same from dimension to dimension, Julia mused.
Roger whispered something, shaking his head violently,
and then glanced up at
Angelique again.
"I am free of you forever, you bitch!" he said more loudly.
"No, bitch is too good of a word for you,"
he amended.
He cocked his arm, spilling scotch on his jacket and
on the rug, and made to
throw the glass at the smirking portrait. This time his voice came out as a
scream, "The only name for you is -"
"Roger!" Victoria Winters glided into the
room and gracefully snatched the
glass from his hand before it could become
airborne. In a quick motion, she
placed it on an end table while putting a soothing arm
around the distraught
man.
"Roger, you know you shouldn't be in here,"
she cooed. "It only upsets you,
you poor darling."
Roger was shaking his head again, this time
contritely, as she guided him
slowly toward the door. "I know, I know, Vicki, dear. Sometimes, I just can't
help myself. I
just can't forget."
"I know, dearest.
But it isn't good for you. Now
let me take you to your
room. You need
some rest, and when you wake up, I'll make sure Cook brings you
up something to eat.
How does that sound?"
"Thank you, my dear. You really are too good to me."
The two of them passed through the door which then
abruptly slammed shut in
front of the voyeurs from another time.
"That's the damnedest thing I ever saw,"
Julia Hoffman remarked, in awe of the
entire experience.
"And that's saying a lot."
*****
"So, I understan' congratulations are in
order," a sarcastic voice called out.
"Huh?
What? Who?" Quentin Collins
stammered as he hastily sat up in his bed.
"Who, what, where, why, how," the voice
mocked him from the gloom. "How you
not recognize your ole friend, Magda, you sot?"
"Magda?" Quentin rubbed his eyes and tried
to focus through an alcoholic haze.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why all da questions, Mr. Collins?" the gypsy asked, slowly
emerging from the
shadows, her heavy gold jewelry jingling and jangling
as she sauntered further
into the room.
"Go away, woman," he growled, trying to wave
her away. How could she still
smell like garlic and pungent herbs? "You're not real anyway."
"Dat's what you think. I may not be flesh and blood no longer, but
I'm just as
real as you are, old man. And I'm here because you need me."
"I don't need anybody. And no one needs me. I'm no use to anyone anyway."
"Bah," she spat, her hands now planted
firmly on her velvet-clad hips. "You
just feelin' sorry for yourself. Shouldn't you be celebratin' your new son?"
"He is not my son!" Quentin roared,
clambering out of his disheveled bed.
"At
least, I don't want him to be my son. I don't know what the hell he really
is.
"Except evil."
"You got dat right, Mr. Quentin.
Evil," she repeated, drawing the word out.
"Evil of the purest kind."
"And I'm responsible for him, Magda. And I don't even have the guts to destroy
him."
"Because of Victoria Winters."
"Yes!
Because of Vicki. She has this
crazy notion that there is some good in
him, that he's salvageable. But I just don't see it, Magda, and I don't
know
what to do about it!"
"Sure you do.
You know you haveta get tough, Quentin.
You need to free your
family from this evil.
Free Vicki. Even free your son. They don't know it
yet, but they are countin' on you."
"I can't do it; I don't know how!"
"'I can't do it; I don't know how,'" she
parroted him. "Be a man, Quentin!
You can do it, and you will. Otherwise."
"But, Magda-"
"Phhht!
Enough with your whining and excuses.
Now go clean yourself up - you
stink, Quentin Collins."
*****
"Are you sure you are up to this?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Vicki answered, leaning
more heavily on her son than she would
have liked.
"I had to get out of that house."
"I wanted both of us out of that house. I need to talk to you, Mother, and
that house has ears."
"And eyes." She couldn't help thinking of
the many ruby and emerald eyes that
had stared out from that Leviathan creature in the
drawing room.
"And eyes," Jeb agreed. "Come, let's sit over here for a
moment."
They had arrived at Widows' Hill, and he steered them
over to sit on a large
rock. The pale
moonlight reflected off of both mother and son's stark white
hair making them look like a pair of diamonds shining
in the night.
"I don't like what this is doing to you,
Mother. My -our - involvement with
the Leviathans, it's not good for either one of
us. Every time you use your
powers, it drains away some of your humanity. They're sucking you dry!"
She had to agree with him. This latest episode with Amy had left her
weak
and exhausted, and well, the only word she could think
of was "bleached". It
was as if she was being bleached out of this world,
being made less real
here and more real there - there in her black
garden. The whiter she
became in this world, the blacker she seemed to become
in that one.
"What are you trying to say, Jeb?"
He bounded off the rock, a bundle of nervous energy,
and began to pace in front
of her. She
could tell that this was difficult for him; he was being torn in
two directions.
"I...I hear the voices, Mother, all of them, all
the time in my head. My
grandfather, the Leviathans - they want me to fulfill
my destiny. It's the
reason I was born to you, to re-establish their reign
on the earth! But I also
hear the others, my Collins ancestors, who urge me to
follow my human legacy.
It's been making me crazy!"
Victoria wanted to go to him, comfort him, but she
knew this was something he
was working out for himself. He had to choose his own path.
"I always thought it would be so easy. There was no question about my role,
and I desired nothing else but to be the leader of the
Leviathans." He fell on
his knees in front of her and took both of her cool
hands in his.
"And then I met you."
"Oh, Jeb, I know this is hard for you,
sweetheart."
"No, no, not anymore," he said, shaking his
head vigorously. "That's what I
brought you out here to tell you. I've made my choice."
"Choice?
What do you mean, Jeb?" Did she dare hope?
"It's been hard enough to fight the war going on
inside of my own head. But to
see what they've done to you, and to know that you believe
in me and want only
the best for me - I've come to a decision. Mother, I want us both to be free
of the Leviathans!
I will no longer do what they want me to do."
"Oh, Jeb!" Vicki cried as they fell into
each other's arms. "You've made me
so
happy. This is
all going to work out; I just know it will-"
"Jebez!" Barnabas' strong baritone boomed
out from behind them.
The young man leaped to his feet and whirled to face
Barnabas, but the vampire
was too quick.
By the time, Jeb had turned around, Collins had whipped out a
small, black velvet box. Turning his own head away, he flicked the
lock open
to reveal the contents.
"Jebez Hawkes!
Behold.the Shard of Medusa!"
"Barnabas, no-" Vicki screamed, but it was
already too late. She had barely
glanced at the object in the box, but that was enough
to incapacitate her. She
felt her muscles go rigid and freeze her where she
sat, and she found that she
could no longer move or speak.
But she could still see, and what she saw happening
to her son chilled the
blood in her veins.
For Jeb, the Leviathan prince, the leader of the Kraken,
had looked directly into the box that Barnabas had
thrust into his unsuspecting
face. A box
containing the shriveled tongue of one of the snakes that had
adorned the hair of the infamous priestess of
Aphrodite.the serpent woman,
Medusa.
Vicki's son had looked upon the head of Medusa -the
only thing that could
destroy the Kraken.
And with that one glance, Jebez Hawkes had turned to
stone.
No, Barnabas, no!
You don't understand! his mother's voice cried out, but
only in her own head.
She could only watch as Barnabas used the inhuman
strength that had been restored to him by the
Leviathans to lift the their
leader above his head.
"Jeb Hawkes, I return you to the sea from whence
you came!" the vampire
shouted, and Victoria watched as he did the
unthinkable and threw her son from
the cliff into the waiting and fathomless ocean depths
below. And despite his
having been turned to stone, she could still see the
young man's terrified eyes
as he fell from sight.
In the distance, church bells solemnly rang the break
of dawn. Barnabas had
disappeared.
Jeb was dead. And Victoria was
left alone.
Let freedom ring.
To Be Continued ...
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