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In The Blood
By Kay Kelly
Rating: T | Status:
Completed | Genre: General | Series: None
Summary: 1991 Series. Barnabas claims he's been wrongly accused of a
series of crimes.
"Julia. Could you get me a...a tape,
of a...TV miniseries? A specific one?"
Julia Hoffman was so startled she almost burst out laughing. Then she
saw Barnabas's face.
"I'll try, Barnabas," she said carefully. "Not everything
is available on tape. In fact, TV miniseries usually aren't.
"I can't imagine you watching TV. Have you ever looked at it?"
"Yes, of course. When I first woke in this time, I needed to learn
how a twentieth-century gentleman should dress and behave. I may only
have approximated it--but I had devoted almost a week to studying what
was on TV, in Willie's apartment over the stable."
"I never realized," Julia admitted. "I should have
guessed that. What miniseries do you want to see?" The idea still
struck her as incongruous.
"It concluded last night. Willie happened to see part of it. He has
a small battery-run TV in his room--I didn't know he had it until he
told me about this. The title was Blood Ties."
"Blood Ties? A pilot for a vampire series?" She was
tempted to laugh again, then turned serious. "I didn't look at it,
but I know most of my acquaintances did. Because of the things that have
happened here--Daphne, Professor Woodard. Sheriff Patterson couldn't
hush it up. So the people of Collinsport have a morbid interest in
vampires. But why do you want to--"
"Can you get me a tape of it?"
"Yes, in this case I'm sure I can. A lot of people taped it--I can
borrow a tape from someone. And I have a VCR in my room at Collinwood.
But the VCR requires electricity. Can you come to Collinwood to look at
it?"
"I'd be more comfortable somewhere else. The power is still on in
Willie's old apartment."
"All right, I'll bring the VCR over there. But why?"
"Please, Julia, let me look at the tape. If it answers my
questions...then I'll explain."
The following night, a puzzled Julia watched as Barnabas paced the
length of the tiny apartment. The miniseries had clearly excited him.
"That's it!" he exclaimed. " 'Carpathians.' People who
are, in a sense, vampires--but not traditional ones, not like me. A race
of vampires who can lead normal lives by day, sleep and make love in
their beds at night. And yet they are different. They have long
life spans, superior strength, they're resistant to injury and quick to
heal.
"And they attack other humans for blood. At least some of them do.
Not an irresistible compulsion, an inherited taste for it! My God,
that's even worse."
"Barnabas!" She had to bring him back to reality. "It was
only a movie. Fiction, Barnabas--can't you understand that?
'Carpathians' don't really exist."
He calmed himself with an effort. "I'm not losing my mind, Julia. I
know the plot of the movie was fiction.
"But here's a comparison. There have also been movies about
traditional vampires, am I right? Vampires who live by night, have no
reflections, and so forth? The plots of those movies were undoubtedly
fiction. But you and I know the phenomenon they describe is all too
real."
She stared at him. "Are you saying you have reason to believe the
Carpathians are real?"
"Yes. Perhaps the writer of the miniseries was one of them, and
thought it would be safe to write from personal experience because no
one would believe it. Oh, they may not really call themselves
Carpathians. But I'm sure people like that exist."
"You promised," she reminded him, "that if this tape gave
you the answers you were looking for, you'd explain."
"I will."
"I never dared tell you this before," he began quietly.
"Without some hypothesis to account for what had happened, you
never would have believed me. You would have thought I was insane. It
was better you believe you were dealing with a sane man, with a few more
sins on his conscience than I really had.
"Julia, the only people I have killed in this century were that
young couple outside the roadhouse! I did not kill the girl whose body
washed up on the beach. And I did not kill Daphne or Professor Woodard,
or transform them into vampires."
The shock hit her with the force of a physical blow. When she found her
voice she said, "You're right. I never would have believed you--I
find it hard now. I don't understand, Barnabas. Are you trying to tell
me these Carpathians did it?"
"Hear me out, Julia. I never wanted to be what I am. And now that I
have adjusted to the situation and have some degree of control, I try
not to kill. I can survive without killing, because I have the power to
cloud victims' minds and make them forget.
"Also, I never intended to harm any of the Collins family in this
century. That first night, when I desperately needed another victim--to
avoid taking too much blood from Willie--I tore myself away from the
estate and went all the way into Collinsport. Daphne was the last patron
leaving a pub at closing time. I know now she had been helping the owner
with his tax records. The point is, I had no idea she was a
Collins."
"I realize that."
"You may not realize...I'm not proud of it, but this has been my
attitude. When I need a victim I tend to look for a prostitute, or a
woman I think is one, near a pub. In my time, if a woman like that were
injured or even killed, few people would have cared. There would have
been no investigation."
"I see," Julia said stiffly. She couldn't keep the disapproval
out of her voice.
"Do you? As I said, I'm not proud of myself. But...the girl on the
beach turned out to be a college student. Not my pattern. And I could
not have met her anywhere near here. Why in God's name would I have
brought her home, and called attention to myself by throwing her body
off Widows' Hill?"
Her eyes widened. "You're saying..."
"Another vampire knew of my existence, and wanted me destroyed! I
realized that at the time. The girl was definitely killed by a vampire.
And the killer disposed of the body near here to create circumstantial
evidence against me."
"But there had been no previous attacks in the area," she
objected. "Other than the ones you admit."
"I know. And at the time, I couldn't understand it. Even if
he--I'll say 'he'--had good control, I would have expected a record of something
that I, at least, would recognize as a vampire attack. And why would he
care about exposing me?
"But Julia, if he was a Carparthian... Think about it. A man
who led an outwardly normal life. Perhaps he didn't practice vampirism
for years at a time. Or perhaps he did it often--for pleasure, on his
vacations! If he felt any need at all, it was controllable. So if he
lived near here, he never attacked anyone in this area. He could take
his time--drive all the way to Boston, if he chose, before indulging
himself.
"But like the Carpathians in the miniseries, he believed his type
of vampire was the only kind that existed. And even though he kept his
true nature secret, it was bound up with his ethnic heritage, and he
took great pride in it.
"Then he learned about me. He probably guessed the truth because I
had appeared in town just as the attacks began, and for a long time I
was never seen by day. Also, he probably learned I was a lookalike for a
supposed eighteenth-century ancestor, and became convinced I was really
the same man. Meaning I was older than he--the Carpathian life span is
only about a century and a quarter.
"He could easily have perceived himself as superior, because he was
able to function during the day. But I don't think he saw it that way. I
made him feel less than a real vampire. I was a threat to his identity,
his sense of who and what he was. He tried to deny my existence--and
when he could not, he tried to end it."
"You...make this sound plausible," Julia murmured. "But
you have very little evidence. What about Daphne? Are you denying you
attacked her a second time?"
"No. I did draw her out of the house that night. I did attack her.
But with no intention of killing her, let alone making her a vampire!
All I intended was to reinforce my hold over her, so you would be unable
to break it with hypnosis. I succeeded--and sent her back to the house.
I did not injure her seriously. I swear it, Julia! Another vampire
attacked her after I left!"
Julia frowned. "Let me play devil's advocate, Barnabas. Isn't it
possible you lost control, blacked out--did things you don't remember,
on both those nights?"
"No. Vampirism isn't like that. I can lose control, but I'm never
left with gaps in my memory.
"And..." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "I could not
have created another vampire accidentally. I never have created a
secondary vampire, Julia. But I know, by instinct, how it's done."
"H-how?" She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Eyes locked on hers, Barnabas said steadily, "It requires
transferring copious amounts of a dying victim's regurgitated blood from
the vampire's mouth to the victim's, forcing the victim to swallow it. I
repeat, I have never done such a thing. And never will."
Julia gulped. But then she shook her head. "Daphne returned as the
kind of vampire you are. How could this 'Carpathian' make her
that?"
"He didn't." Barnabas took a deep breath. "Julia, I know
you'll find this harder to believe than anything else I've said. But
please, think about it. Don't just reject it out of hand.
"I believe Daphne did not really die that night. She was in
a deathlike stupor, and was wrongly declared dead. And then...she
'returned as a vampire' because she herself was a Carpathian."
"Barnabas! Daphne was a Collins!"
"Let me rephrase that. She had some Carpathian blood. Enough. All
sorts of people--seamen and fisher folk, mostly--have been streaming
through Collinsport since the seventeenth century. Every family in town
is a crazy-quilt ethnic mixture.
"Think about it! I was desperate for blood the night I first
attacked Daphne. When I left, I was cursing myself for having killed
her. I've heard since then that the doctors didn't expect her to
survive. But she did. I did far less physical damage to the young couple
from the roadhouse, and they died. So we know Daphne had a remarkably
strong constitution.
"Also...remember from that movie, how highly-sexed the Carpathian
women seemed to be? It's hard for me to talk about this--but I swear,
something like that was latent in Daphne. The second time I attacked
her...
"Julia, you may be aware that a vampire's victims often...enjoy
it. Sexually."
"Yes," she said, aware her cheeks were burning. "I've
heard that."
"Well, even so, there was something different about Daphne. She
responded too enthusiastically, seemed to like it too much.
Tried to bite me, with every intention of drinking my blood. It
was as though I had...awakened something in her, something she had never
been aware of! And it frightened me. I broke off sooner than I had
intended.
"As I said, I believe now that even after the other vampire
attacked her, she did not really die. But when she woke in that
coffin--in the family tomb, not buried--and forced her way out, she believed
she had died and returned as...what I am. She had no understanding of
her true nature. Crosses, daylight itself could not have harmed her--but
she recoiled in terror because she believed they could. I'm
guessing she simply hid from the light of day, without actually
retreating into her coffin and closing the lid.
"Of course, a stake through the heart could kill even a Carpathian.
But a number of less drastic methods probably would have sufficed."
Julia was still shaking her head. "You're overlooking something,
Barnabas. A Carpathian--if they exist--surely would have been killed by
either the autopsy or the embalming process."
He grimaced. "Actually, I suspect either of those procedures would
destroy any potential vampire. I had been in this time for months
before I learned about autopsies and embalming. When I did, I wondered
how Daphne could have survived. So I did some investigating.
"Willie had a few answers, and he checked other points with his
'Auntie.' Julia, none of the old families of Collinsport embalm their
dead!"
"What? Why?"
"A religious prohibition, for which no one can suggest any
rationale beyond tradition. Remember my saying all sorts of ethnic
groups passed through this area and contributed to its mix? They brought
every conceivable religious idea with them. The result is a vague
Protestantism that no one takes very seriously--but with any number of
exotic customs thrown in."
Julia needed a minute to absorb that. Then she said, "All right.
But even if corpses are not normally embalmed, there should have been an
autopsy on a murder victim."
"Yes, there should. But the coroner agreed to forgo it, to spare
Elizabeth's feelings. We're dealing with a small town, a prominent
family. And no one doubted what an autopsy would show: homicide, with
death attributable to shock and loss of blood. Daphne was supposedly the
fourth victim of a serial killer."
It was Julia’s turn to rise and pace. "Barnabas, aside from the
question of whether Daphne was a Carpathian...you say you didn't make
her a vampire. And there was something about her that night that
frightened you..."
"That's right."
She stopped in her tracks and fixed him with a piercing gaze.
"Didn't you have an opportunity, later, to ask her about the
other vampire?"
He shifted uneasily. "No."
"I can't believe you never saw her--as a vampire, or whatever she
was. Don't tell me you were afraid to approach her--"
"No!"
"Then...you did ask her, and she wouldn't tell you anything."
Her eyes bored into him. "Does all this explain why you never
helped her? I've always wondered why you didn't guide her, teach her to
be more cautious. Force her, if necessary, until she adjusted."
Barnabas looked away. For the first time, uncertainty crept into his
voice. "I think I would have helped her, in spite of everything, if
I could..."
"If you could? You mean she wouldn't listen to you?"
"No. I...I... Hang it, I may as well tell the truth." He
turned back to her. "A few months ago I never would have
risked...giving you an idea...by telling you this. But now I think I can
trust you. God help me if I can't.
"Julia, if I really had killed Daphne, I would have been more on my
guard than usual. But I had not.
"The next day, Willie learned she had been killed. He was
terrified--concluded I was a menace he had to deal with, somehow. So
he...chained me in the coffin again."
"Willie? Chained you in the coffin?"
"Yes. In the Old House basement. Even now, I find it hard to
believe.
"When I woke at nightfall I was frantic. I had no idea what had
happened, or even where I was. Mind you, I was still unaware of Daphne's
'death.' But I did know there was another vampire out there, a vampire
who was my enemy!
"I tried desperately to reach out with my mind, reestablish the
control I had once had over Willie...even though I was not at all sure
it was he who had imprisoned me. I tried to order him to release
me."
He shuddered. "To this day, I don't know whether those mental
commands had any effect. But several nights later Willie did
release me--as it turned out, only a few hours before Daphne was
destroyed.
"He told me that if he could have returned the coffin to the secret
room in the mausoleum, he would have left me as he found me and fled
Collinsport. But there was no one he could trust. And he couldn't move
the coffin alone--especially with me in it!
"He was tempted to leave me there and run. But he knew the coffin
would eventually be found, and he didn't want me to be destroyed. He
couldn't invent any more explanations for my absence, so he...set me
free."
Trembling, Barnabas buried his face in his hands. Julia realized she was
shaking too.
"I never would have expected Willie to have the courage to chain
that coffin," she whispered. "Or, having done it and changed
his mind, to dare to release you again, knowing what you might do to
him. I hope you didn't punish him..."
"I did not."
Julia stared bleakly out the window. Into darkness, and nothingness.
Barnabas was saying, "Willie still believes I killed Daphne,
inadvertently. And that it was possible for one of my victims to become
a vampire without my intending it. He was frightened enough without
hearing there was someone else out there."
She turned to face him. "Tell me about Michael Woodard."
"I think you already know."
"Tell me anyway."
He sighed deeply. "I never attacked him, Julia. I merely tried to
intimidate him, and thought I succeeded.
"I believe now that when he revealed himself as a vampire, he was
letting you see what he had, in fact, been all his life. Did you see
marks on his neck?"
"No..."
"I'm sure there were none. If Sheriff Patterson read the autopsy
report closely enough to notice that, he assumed the wounds that had
caused Woodard's first death disappeared when he came back to life as a
vampire. But in reality, the scars would not have faded that quickly.
"I think Woodard planned to feign being afraid of me, then let the
Sheriff talk him into handing over the film he had that incriminated
me--which I, unknown to him, had erased. But he had second thoughts.
Perhaps he had a nagging feeling I would not have let him keep the film
if I had not, somehow, erased it.
"And he knew you were helping me. So he impulsively decided to kill
you and the Sheriff, and use your bodies as he had the others--plant
them on or near the Collins estate, to cast suspicion on me. He attacked
the Sheriff first because he considered him the more dangerous opponent,
but I'm afraid you were his main target. I'm sorry, Julia. I know you
thought of him as a friend."
Tears stung her eyes. "Sheriff Patterson shot him, and he didn't
fall..."
"He was a Carpathian. Highly resistant to injury, remember? He was
injured--but he could endure far more than an ordinary man, without
showing it.
"I wish he had challenged me openly. It would have been a
fascinating confrontation, both of us possessing enormous physical
strength. But he had no supernatural powers, none at all. I think he
would only have taken me on as a last resort."
"You're sure he was the original enemy vampire?"
"The attacks--that is, attacks by someone other than me--stopped
with his death, Julia."
She nodded reluctantly. "He...killed Daphne," she whispered.
"Drove a stake through her heart, knowing she was one of his own
kind."
"Yes," Barnabas said somberly, "he must have been aware
of it--though not, of course, when he attacked her and left her for
dead. When she reappeared, he would have known he had no power to create
a vampire. He undoubtedly realized the truth.
"From his point of view, he had no choice but to hunt her down and
kill her. It was far too late to establish that she had been wrongly
declared dead, and let her practice Carpathian vampirism in secret as he
did. And she could have identified him."
"You're right," Julia said wearily. "That explains
it."
Barnabas looked troubled. "Actually...I believe all I've said, but
I'm surprised you aren't pouncing on the weakness in my theory. Even
allowing for the ethnic mix of Collinsport, it's a remarkable
coincidence that Professor Woodard and Daphne were both
Carpathians."
Julia didn't feel up to pouncing on anything. Wiping tears from her
eyes, she asked quietly, "How much do you know about Daphne?"
"Not much. Only that she was Elizabeth and Roger's niece, and her
parents died in a plane crash when she was an infant."
Julia shook her head. "That's the official story. Elizabeth told me
the truth.
"The couple who died in that plane crash left no children. Daphne
was Elizabeth's illegitimate daughter. And her father was...Michael
Woodard."
(The End)
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