Shadows on the Wall Chapter 81

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 ...