Mirror Images
By Linda

Rating: M | Status: Completed | Genre: Supernatural/Romance | Series: Sequel to Widows Hill At Midnight.
Summary: Original Series. Nicholas Blair starts anew.

Go To: Part 1 | Part 2

6 - The Tables Turned

Daylight poured through the bedroom window Josette stretched her arms out over her head as she opened her eyes and thought of Nicholas. Lying under the rumpled quilts, a smile played about her lips and grew as she remembered of his ardent lovemaking the night before -- his hot breath in the hollow of her throat, his mouth on hers…..how it had traveled the length of her body and back again, pausing to lightly tease her nipples into a state of excited firmness. From her breasts he'd moved back down toward the place where her legs met, hovering over her for a moment while his lips touched her -- lightly at first, and then with growing ardor, his mustache tickling the sensitive folds of flesh as he parted them.

She had giggled a little before his tongue crept out and found her clitoris licking at it softly at first, and then with growing urgency. Her face grew serious as ripples of enjoyment began to course through her body. He'd moved in gentle circles at first…slowly, sensuously. Her moans of delight had escalated as his pace quickened -- then, as her body began to writhe in answer to his insistent probing, he would suddenly take his mouth away and run his tongue languidly down the inside of her thigh -- and then back up again, creeping over to the excited nub, letting the sandpapery, rotating pressure drive her almost to the brink once more.

She'd reached for him, and clasped her hands around the back of his neck, pressing him even closer to her -- but he defied her, accelerating and slowing his pace -- retracing his movements, maddening her...until finally, frustrated at the repeated building and thwarting of her orgasm, she'd cried out with longing and lunged her hips toward his. He'd looked up at her and smiled a slow, lazy smile….then his mouth dropped down to taste the nectar of her pleasure one last time-his tongue moved faster and faster, and within moments, she'd begun to shudder in a violent climax.

As her body had convulsed, he'd moved his mouth away and pulled himself up, his lips seizing hers as he'd lowered his hips. He'd positioned himself quickly and then plunged inside her -- moving up and down, his hard cock penetrating her deeply and then retreating….feeling the hot friction of her vagina encircling his throbbing thickness and grabbing hold, despite the slick coating of her juices. His thrusts had quickened and her own body had answered his passion with invigorated lust….within moments he'd cried out as his own hot liquid spilled forth, and as his fangs distended over her neck, she'd felt her own climax answering him and propelling her to renewed ecstasy.

They'd lain there in the bed with the blankets in a tangle, holding each other tightly as their breathing slowed. After a while, he'd pulled the covers back over them, and shifted so that she was neatly clasped along the length of his body. Then he'd kissed the top of her head as she feel asleep nestled in his arms.

Just before dawn, she'd awakened briefly as he was preparing to leave. "I'll be back tonight," he'd promised. Without looking at the crucifix, he'd jerked his head toward the little silver cross sitting on the night table. "Put that on as soon as I'm gone, and do NOT take it off, even during the day," he warned. "Keep the door locked and don't' answer it. I don't want you getting caught unawares if he should try and come back as soon as the sun sets."

She'd nodded her head and reached for it, fastening it around her neck as she watched him go. Just before he'd left through the window, he'd turned back toward her, touched his fingers to his lips briefly and extended them back toward her…..and then he was gone.

Now, as she stretched one more time, her own fingertips touched her mouth briefly as she remembered his parting kiss. She glanced over at the clock. Ten thirty! Good lord, she had to get up. She began to rise, but a sharp pain attacked her temples, and she fell back weakly against the pillows. She winced, and shook her head slowly.

What was wrong with her? She must be coming down with something, she thought. Her head was pounding and she could feel her strength waning with each passing minute…probably the flu. Oh well…not a bad day to lie around and read a book anyway, she thought. She could hear the wind pounding against the window…a storm must be coming. She rose slightly and puffed up her pillows a bit…she knew she should go downstairs and fix herself something to eat, but the thought of food suddenly nauseated her.

Then her eyes widened, and she reached up and briefly touched her neck. No, she thought. Probably NOT the flu. Nicholas' need for blood was weakening her….she'd have to tell him tonight, she thought. What would he do? What would THEY do? Things couldn't go on like this. Would that demon from hell EVER leave them alone?

She sighed heavily, and her eyes filled with tears again. Through the maze of thoughts that attacked her mind, she could think of nothing to solve the dilemma they faced. She turned and buried her face in the pillow, wishing that Nicholas were with her. Suddenly, she was afraid to be alone.

Sitting at an old desk in a dark corner of the police station, Evan Tillery sipped his coffee and reached for another book on the subject that suddenly devoured his interest. He'd gone to the library as soon as it opened and gathered copies from the periodicals section of all the relevant articles he could remember reading. Then he'd found a couple of volumes of historical material…he'd cursed his inability to get to his own library, but perhaps, along with his notes, this information would do to further underscore his ideas from the evening before. The sheriff hadn't completely warmed to his theory yet, but at least he'd quit making fun of him.

He sighed as he remembered their conversation. After leaving the crime scene, they'd gone back to Patterson's office at the station. At first, the sheriff had paced back and forth impatiently as Evan had begun to give him the details of his hypothesis. At one point, Patterson had interrupted him sharply.

"You're telling me we have a vampire on our hands?? he'd asked incredulously.

"You don't think it makes sense after what I've been explaining?" Evan retorted, irritated at the interference.

Patterson had sighed heavily, and waved him on. As Evan continued, he'd gradually he stopped pacing and given his full attention, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he'd spoken.

"Your ideas are damn weird, young man," he'd said solemnly. "But given all the crazy things that have been going on around here for awhile now, it might just make sense." He paused. "Where do you suggest we start?"

Josette was nearly asleep again when she heard the pounding on the front door below. She opened her eyes slowly. She'd shut out the daylight that had streamed into the room earlier, but her head still hurt.

She got up slowly, grabbed her robe and put it on as she headed downstairs. She turned up the fuzzy collar so that her neck was hidden, but she was still so lightheaded that she threw open the door without thinking. Willie Loomis stood on the doorstep.

Josette gasped and tried to close the door, but Willie stepped forward and pushed it back open as he strode inside. She looked at him with alarm.

"Hello Josette," he said in a quiet voice. He was a little fidgety, and sounded almost apologetic, but she knew what he was here to do. She turned suddenly and began to run toward the door to the basement but he reached out quickly and caught her arm.

"You're comin' with me, Josette. Barnabas is waiting for you…he told me to come get you, and y'all will be together tonight. He says it's gonna be just like it used to be."

"Willie, you're crazy. You're both crazy," she cried. "It can never be like it was…never," she insisted. "I thought maybe it could be, for just a little while, when I came to him at the Old House….but I was wrong. I don't love him anymore, Willie. And I'm NOT going wi--"

Willie interrupted her sharply. "He still loves YOU. And I'm taking you to him now. You'll have enough time to get cleaned up and put on that dress he likes so much before the sun goes down."

She tried to pull away from him, but he seized her firmly. Spying the crucifix, he reached out and yanked it from her neck.

She cried out sharply. "Ouch! What are you doing!"

"C'mon, Josette. You can't be wearin' that thing in the Old House. You know that."

"Willie, please," she pleaded. "You can't make me go there. I don't WANT to go there."

Willie suddenly looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes. He spoke in a quiet voice. "Josette, I told you...he loves you. He ain't never stopped loving you. Please…please try and understand. You don't know what he'll do to me if I come back without you…"

She could see the fear fill his face as he paused for a moment, and she could almost feel sorry for him as he continued. "Can't you even imagine what he went through when you left him? Josette, when you first came back, you said you'd been waiting for him for 173 years….don't you know that HE'S been waiting that long, too? He ain't never talked about nuthin' but you. He's tried to recreate you in every woman he's seen….and then you show up on his doorstep out of nowhere, and suddenly he's found you again. He's so happy, he don't know what to do. There you were, sleepin' in the room upstairs…YOUR room….the shrine he created for you…all he can talk about is the joy he feels because the only woman he's ever loved has returned to him. And then…THEN…you run off to be with Nicholas Blair. The man who kidnapped you, held you hostage, treated you like a whore….and who, I might add, Barnabas ain't never liked nohow….I'm tellin' ya, Josette, he ain't gonna let ya stay here -- not after what Blair did to him."

Suddenly she had an idea. She shrugged off the robe, revealing her neck. "I'll show what ELSE Nicholas has done to me, Willie." She pointed to the fang marks and smiled savagely. "You see, Willie? Barnabas can't touch me now. I already belong to Nicholas."

Willie pulled the hypodermic needle from his pocket and before she could say another word, jammed it into her arm. Within seconds, her eyes began to glaze over and she began to sway from side to side. As she fell, he gathered her into his arms and picked her up. "Don't matter, Josette," he whispered. "Barnabas won't care about that."

He stepped out onto the front porch, and reached over and closed the door.

Nicholas had risen at dusk, and it was dark by the time he arrived at the House by the Sea. He opened the front door slowly. Why were all the lights off, he wondered?

"Josette?" he called.

Silence. He stepped inside.

"Josette?" His voice rose, and he called her once more as he hurried toward the staircase. Mounting the stairs two at a time, he strode into the bedroom and looked around. The bed was rumpled, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"JOSETTE!" he shouted once more. A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that it was useless. She wasn't there. Fear began to gnaw at him as he descended the staircase. Where in the hell WAS she?? A chill wind blew through the house as he realized he'd left the front door open. On his way back toward the foyer, he stopped to turn on a lamp in the living room. He looked around again, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light.. Suddenly he spotted a silvery glitter in the hallway.

He hurried into the foyer and looked down. He froze, his face becoming a mask of horror, as he spotted the crucifix lying on the floor.

7 - Buried Memories Arise

Unable to move, Nicholas just stood and stared at the little silver cross lying on the floor. She was gone. Only this time, she hadn't escaped...they had taken her. He wandered back into the living room and dropped down heavily onto the couch, letting his head fall into his hands. He tried to think, but his desperation obliterated rational thought.

He could almost feel her terror as he imagined the crucifix being ripped from her neck before she was spirited away. It was Willie Loomis who had done this, Nicholas was sure of it. Collins couldn't get close to a crucifix, but Willie would have no such restriction.

He thought of their conversation, and her worry, the night before. She had as much as told him that Barnabas wouldn't give up...that he'd pay no attention to the influence of another, that he'd manage to get her somehow. He should have listened to her. Silently, Nicholas damned himself for not taking her with him to where his coffin was hidden. She would have been safe there with him...no one had lived in the ramshackle old house along the Collinsport highway for years, and even beggars hadn't disturbed the cellar. But now it was too late.

Nicholas suddenly remembered the words of Barnabas Collins, as he'd stood in the doorway. "The last time you ever rest your eyes on Josette, Nicholas Blair, will be when she's lying in MY arms." The vision of Barnabas lying with her, forcing her, preyed upon his mind, and he was seized with a madness so great that he could hear only one repeated voice in his head, whispering that he must kill Barnabas Collins...kill Barnabas Collins...kill Barnabas Collins. Over and over, the words pounded upon his brain.

Kill Barnabas Collins. But how?

Willie Loomis shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair and watched Josette as she lay on the old bed. She was still in a deep sleep, but surely she should be waking up soon, he thought. He'd been watching her all afternoon, trying to stem the flow of memories of the last time he'd kept a vigil over a young woman hidden in this cell. He looked at his watch and wrinkled his brow slightly. Four o'clock. He had another hour or two, but he needed to get that dress on her before Barnabas arose. "Make sure she's wearing the cream-colored gown, Willie," Barnabas had told him. "And put her hair up the way she used to wear it. Bring her music box to her, and play it while you dress her...and give her the flowers, Willie. Don't forget the flowers."

Willie wondered if he should just take her up to that room. He'd sealed off the secret passage...not that she was in any shape to get away. He was going to have to dress her in her semi-comatose state anyway, and it would be easier in Josette's room. The sedative should have worn off by now, but Willie understood the heavy sleep she was experiencing...he's seen the bite marks on her neck. He looked at his watch again. Damn! He'd never have her ready in time.

He kept trying to think of things to occupy his mind...things besides her. He tried to think of Barnabas, and how happy he would be to have her sitting across from him in the dining room. He tried not to think of the other woman he had dressed in that cream-colored gown...the woman whose blood Barnabas had drunk like a sweet nectar so that he could make her his Josette. The woman who had defied him and fought...the woman whom he had terrorized mercilessly because she'd resisted the spell he'd cast upon her and rejected him.

Barnabas had finally given up, but not before he'd sworn revenge upon her soul. He'd be rid of her, Barnabas had cried...he'd make her pay. She wasn't Josette...Josette would never have turned him away. And he'd locked her up, in THIS room, and then visited her nightly to torture and threaten...and humiliate. And he had made Willie swear to keep her here, a prisoner, and to watch her closely during the daylight hours when he himself couldn't be there. And then finally, the night came when Barnabas had gone too far...and she had turned to Willie out of terror and desperation.

It had been so long ago, but as Willie looked down at the woman in front of him and remembered how she had fought coming here when he had taken her from the House by the Sea, he was afraid it was about to happen all over again.

Suddenly Josette stirred and moaned softly. He rose and walked softly to her side. "Maggie?" he whispered, and then realized his mistake. "Josette?" he whispered again.

"Nicholas," she murmured softly, and nestled back into the bedding with a deep sigh.

She was so beautiful, he thought. Just like Maggie...a carbon copy. He felt a stirring in his loins. Maggie. He looked around the cell while stark visions of the memories he'd been trying to suppress suddenly flooded him. He remembered those first days after Barnabas had put her in this very room...how in the beginning she'd looked at Willie with cold, suspicious eyes whenever he brought her food and tried to talk to her. For days she'd been unresponsive...and then, out of fear and loneliness she'd begun to slowly warm up to him. Talking to him. Being nice. That was when he'd started to think about wanting her. But it had been more than that. He'd begun to realize that he was falling in love with her. He'd wanted her so badly, but he hadn't dared...Barnabas would have killed him if he'd known.

Then one night everything had changed...the night when Barnabas had relented and gone down to see her one more time, to try to persuade her to listen to reason...to convince that he wouldn't punish her anymore if she'd be his Josette. Willie could still remember the scorn in Maggie's voice. Barnabas had been furious. For nearly two centuries, Josette had been all he could think about, and he'd wanted Maggie for his Josette so badly...and she'd just kept resisting, unable to hide her contempt. Barnabas had finally lost control and Willie had covered his ears so that he wouldn't hear her screams...but they had seeped through anyway, and hard as he'd tried, he hadn't been able to shut out the horrifying image of what Barnabas was doing to her.

After a while, he'd needed to see if she was OK. He'd paused outside the door, left slightly ajar, and he'd overheard Barnabas vow to kill her. She'd finally broken, and Willie had heard her start to sob uncontrollably. When he'd heard Barnabas close the creaky door and turn the key in the lock, he had run away from the upstairs door and into the drawing room. Moments later, Barnabas had emerged into the foyer, grabbed his overcoat, and with a terse farewell, had walked out the front door.

Willie had crept back downstairs and found her lying on the floor where Barnabas had left her, crying pitifully. He'd dropped down to his knees and brought her toward him, trying to comfort her, whispering to her that it would be okay. Then he'd shifted his body and sat down on the cold floor, pulling her close. Her head had dropped to his shoulder, and for nearly an hour she had lain in his arms, her chest heaving as she'd wept. The spasms brought on by her crying had finally slowed, and she'd rested against him quietly for awhile. Then he'd shifted positions slightly and she'd suddenly cried out for him to stay with her. She'd raised her face to his, and he was struck immediately by the terror.

He'd tightened his arms around her and promised he wouldn't leave her...and as she gazed back at him, he'd found he couldn't help himself. She'd been driven half mad, and he'd known that she wasn't responsible for what she was saying or doing, but he'd slowly pressed himself closer to her and let his lips touch hers. She had returned his kiss, softly at first...and then with growing passion. Her hand hand had dropped from his shoulder down past his waist, and she'd begun frantically running her hand over the front of his pants, her fingers finding the full outline of him as his cock quickly stiffened. She'd grasped him firmly and massaged a little harder, her fingers rippling over the top. Jesus, it had felt so good, he remembered. He'd just lain there and let her work on him, letting her rub him faster and faster through the coarse fabric, absorbing the pleasure of the repeated friction of the rough material sliding over his cock. After a few moments, he'd reached down and unfastened his pants, and her hand had reached inside. He'd imagined her tongue sliding over the ridge that rose under the skin beneath the tip, but he'd nearly died from the pleasure when, seconds later, he felt the warmth of her mouth surround him.

His hips had begun to rotate and he'd groaned her name. As she'd sucked on him with increasing pressure, he'd found that he couldn't hold back. He'd come quickly, shudders racking his body while he felt the sticky liquid shoot from the tip of his penis and into her warm mouth. She'd risen back up and nestled close to him as he'd drifted into the lethargy left by his violent orgasm. He'd stroked her hair and wished desperately that she might think of him whenever she recalled this night instead of what Barnabas had done to her.

He'd begun to fondle her breasts, and she'd nipped lightly at his neck. He'd felt his cock grow stiff again, but he had delayed his own pleasure and slid his fingers down her body, instead. Then he'd pushed her onto her back and he'd reached inside her panties, caressing her between her legs...pushing them further apart and spreading the folds of skin, finally touching the small nub that rested within. He'd stroked her lightly, and within seconds, had been able to feel the heat emanating from her, as though her cunt were on fire.

Her response had galvanized him...his fingers teased her as he alternated between rubbing her fast and hard, and then using a more languid stroke. She'd moaned repeatedly under the mysteries of his touch. Then his pace had quickened and become firm and steady, and she had climaxed, screaming as her body had convulsed and surged forward. He hadn't stopped though. He had kept on until he'd driven her over the brink half a dozen times and she'd finally begged him to stop. Then he'd moved over her and finally satisfied himself, smiling as he'd felt her come one more time. Not long after Willie had finished she'd fallen asleep, and he'd lifted her up onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over her. Then he'd left the room before giving in to his desire to rip off his clothes and crawl in beside her. She'd escaped soon after that, solving that silly riddle that Sarah Collins had told her and finding the loose brick that hid the mechanism to open the entrance to the tunnel. And after she'd been found, Barnabas had sent Julia Hoffman to erase all the memories of her ordeal in the Old House...including that night with him. Willie sighed, and touched the erection his own memories had given him.

As he continued to gaze at the full lips of Maggie's replica before him, he kept thinking of that night spent making love to her. After a moment, he reached down to Josette and slid the straps of her nightgown over her shoulders. What the hell, he thought. He had to remove it to put the dress on her, anyway. He slowly pulled the top down to expose her breasts. He licked his lips as he watched them rise and fall, the familiarity of them overwhelming him. Catching his breath, he softly stroked a nipple and watched it harden under his fingertips. He traced a slow circle over the rosy surface...her breathing quickened slightly. Oh yeah, he sighed. Already aroused, he touched the front of his pants and felt himself...he was rock-hard, now. He needed relief. It had been too long. He reached down and unfastened his pants. Slipping his hand inside, he grabbed his stiff cock. His excitement began to build as he felt the light drops of milky liquid at the tip and ran his finger slowly around it, stroking the ridge and then circling the top. Wishing it was her hand around him as it began to throb, he grasped himself firmly. He thought of her mouth, and those soft, moist lips caressing him, her tongue teasing him to near madness... sucking him just like before.

He began to slide his hand up and down, and he leaned back a little and closed his eyes, imagining her body writhing under his, her legs spread to receive his pulsing dick, so full it might burst any second. Within moments his breathing grew ragged as his hand moved faster and faster. "Aaahhh," he cried as he neared his peak. God, he wanted to fall on top of her and shove himself between her legs, feeling her warmth envelop him. He groaned as he remembered the last time, and stroked himself even harder. "Oh baby, fuck me!" he shouted, as he climaxed and his semen spilled forth. He leaned over on the bed, balancing himself on his arms and gazing at her with longing as his rapid breathing gradually slowed.

After a few moments, his senses returned, and he sat down at the foot of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. Shame and despair filled him. It was hopeless. He still cared for her, but even if the woman before him WAS Maggie, she didn't want him...and if she was Josette, she didn't want Barnabas. And even worse was the feeling of impending doom...and the certainty that this time she WOULD die at Barnabas' hand, and take whatever was left of Maggie with her. He began to shake as he wondered what he should do.

Then Josette opened her eyes slowly. They widened as she took in his dishevelment and as terror filled her, she began to scream.

8 - Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Willie looked at Josette in horror as she hastily pulled up the top of the nightgown while she continued to shriek.

"For Christ's sake, quit screaming!" he whispered furiously as he quickly straightened up and zipped up his pants. He moved toward her.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted, scrambling back toward the wall.

He held up his hand. "Maggie...I mean Josette...I ain't goin' to hurt you. But you gotta stop yellin'. Please," he pleaded.

"What are you doing here? What WERE you doing?" Her voice was strident, reflecting her fear and anger.

"I was-I was..." Still mortified, his voice drifted off. "I was just remembering something, that's all. You don't need to know."

She stared back at him for a moment, then slowly sat up. When Diabolos had resurrected her dead body lying on the rocky beach below Widow's Hill, he had restored all of Maggie Evans' memories to her as well. After a moment, a picture formed in her mind and she suddenly felt the stark fear Barnabas Collins had instilled in Maggie that night...and the events and feelings it had prompted.

One by one, Josette recalled the many things that Barnabas had done to Maggie in his insane quest to make her Josette...he had bitten her and used mind control to govern her actions and take her by force...he had abused her with words...he had beaten her. Maggie had withstood it all, until finally that night had come and he had tried one more time to persuade her, to make her see that she WAS Josette, and that she belonged with him. She had shunned him with words of contempt, and he had cursed her with the worst by far...Josette shivered as she remembered the image of her own broken body and wailing that Barnabas had placed in Maggie's mind, telling her that it would haunt her until she died. That soon, she would wish to die more than anything else, because she wouldn't be able to close her eyes without seeing Josette's bloody face...or hearing her piteous cries.

Maggie had screamed in absolute horror and the vision had finally broken her. Josette remembered that Maggie had fallen at his feet, crying and begging him to stop. He had angrily pushed her away with his foot before he left, locking the cell behind him, but not before she had seen the evil gleam in his eye, and her blood had turned to ice.

She had dropped back down on the floor, weeping uncontrollably until Willie had come down to the cellar and found her. He'd unlocked the cell and taken her into his arms in a gentle embrace, comforting her in his soft voice until her body had stopped shaking and her eyes had dried. She couldn't even remember how long she had lain there...and then a shift of his body had reawakened the terror and recalled the image of Josette.

Josette shuddered slightly as she remembered how Maggie, frenzied and on the brink of madness, had cried out for him to stay and held onto him desperately, willing him to stay with her touch...and then visions of the rest of the night swept through her.

Poor Willie. He was still in love with Maggie but for her, what had happened that night had resulted from the near-insanity borne of her dread and despair. Josette could recall Maggie's pleasure in her mind, but could no longer feel it with her body...and yet it still mattered so much to him. Suddenly she pitied him, and her fury left her as quickly as it had struck. He'd only taken her from Nicholas because Barnabas controlled him. One more person that Barnabas Collins had used without mercy, and hurt in his quest to have what he wanted, she thought angrily.

Suddenly she stiffened. Nicholas! He'd be mad with worry. Tears filled her eyes as she ached to feel his strong arms around her, and she cursed herself for not being more careful. If she'd been paying attention, Willie never would have gotten inside the house, and she wouldn't be in this mess, she thought ruefully. What would Nicholas do? She froze in fear, remembering the last time...the time she'd escaped from him and in a state of crazed obsession, he'd come to the Old House and declared war on Barnabas. At least Barnabas had been human then...he was far more dangerous now. And far more vicious. She had to find a way out of here, a way to get home before Nicholas risked himself to free her. If something happened to him, she'd never be able to go on.

"Josette!" Willie's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I've got to get you dressed...get your hair combed. It's almost time."

She turned slightly and looked at him blankly.

"The sun just set a little while ago...he'll be getting up soon. He wants you to wear a special dress...and put your hair up."

She had to use them to get away...Willie AND Barnabas. She had to do whatever was necessary. She dropped her head down for a moment and shook it sharply, as if trying to clear her mind

"Willie," she began in a bewildered voice, "What are you talking about? Why am I here...in this cell?"

"He didn't want you near no windows," Willie replied, and then suddenly he looked startled. Where had her accent gone?

"He can't expect me to keep clean and be his beautiful Josette if I'm a prisoner in this cage, now can he?" she asked in a silky voice. "Take me upstairs, Willie. Take me upstairs and let me have a bath. And I want the jasmine perfume that's sitting on her dressing table. Josette wore jasmine perfume. She stared at him for a moment, noting his puzzled look. She rose and approached him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Do you like jasmine, Willie?" She leaned over and kissed him softly. "He'll hurt us both, Willie, if I don't play along," she whispered. "He said that he'd curse me with her ghost forever if I didn't become her."

He stepped back as if her touch had burned him. "M-M-Maggie??" he asked incredulously. "Is it you? You remember? You remember that night?"

She smiled, but before she could answer, she heard something creak in the distance. Willie suddenly looked scared.

At the House by the Sea, Nicholas paced back and forth in the living room. He had to get her away from there. Fear dogged him, destroying any continuity in his thoughts. He had yet to determine how he would rescue her, but he knew his sanity would never survive the ordeal of losing her again.

She must be terrified, he thought, and his face grew dark with fury as he imagined what Barnabas Collins would do to her. Assaulting her from all directions, driving her mad and breaking her...just like he did before. She just barely escaped as Maggie Evans, and Collins would never make the same mistakes...what chance would she have now?

He began to assess his newfound powers, taking stock of his capabilities. He was powerful, yes...but he also knew that he had no real advantage over Barnabas Collins. He was a mirror image...just another vampire. Or was he? Did he still have his warlock powers, too?

Diabolos. He needed Diabolos. He no longer cared if the bastard taunted him. He'd make whatever bargain necessary to get her back and dispose of Barnabas Collins once and for all.

Before he could call out to his master, the insatiable thirst for blood that had assaulted him each night returned. Knowing he would weaken fast if he didn't satisfy the craving, he walked out the front door and headed quickly for the docks.

"Wait for me, Josette," he whispered, as he hurried toward town.

Barnabas unlocked the door to the cell and stepped inside. He noticed immediately that she was still in the silky nightgown, and her hair was tousled.

"You disobeyed my orders, Willie," he said severely, although he wasn't really angry. If anything, she was even more beautiful than his vision of her in the dress, and he felt a stirring in his loins.

Willie started to protest, but she interrupted him. "Barnabas, it wasn't his fault. I just woke up." She gave him a puzzled look. "But why am I here and not in my room?" The French accent had returned. She looked at him with longing, and smiled.

Barnabas looked at her in mild astonishment and his desire increased. Not a mention of Blair? What had happened?

"I wanted to dress up for you...to fix my hair the way you always liked it...but when I woke up, I was here in this cell. Have I done something wrong, Barnabas?" Tears welled up in her eyes.

His feelings for her overpowered him. He wanted her now. He'd waited so long. Yes...yes, she should be in Josette's room, and tonight would be theirs. He wouldn't face another dawn without having her.

"Come, my dear." Barnabas held out his hand to her as she stood. Then he looked over at Willie. "I'm taking Josette upstairs. Wait for me in the drawing room."

"Barnabas, I -"

"Wait for me in the drawing room, Willie," he said sternly.

Sheriff Patterson sat at his desk and looked once again at the newest coroner's report he'd been given that morning. Goddammit! he thought. Another one. Who in the hell was doing this? He thought of Tillery's theory that Collinsport been invaded by a supernatural being. It was just too outrageous to think about and he still only half-believed the lad, even after reading all the books and research.

As he continued to ponder the recent incidents, his mind kept returning to one man...Barnabas Collins. It hadn't escaped him that many of the town's problems over the past year or so seemed to lead to the Old House.

A knock sounded on the door. "Yes?" he called abruptly.

The door opened and Evan Tillery stepped into the room. "The sun has gone down," he said quietly.

"It does that every day," Patterson retorted. "What of it?"

"It plays a very important part in my theory about what's been going on here. Vampires can only function after the sun sets. I thought you might like to take a walk along the docks. You ARE here to keep the peace...you could be a little more proactive about it," Evan observed pithily.

Patterson guffawed. "A uniform on THAT beat would scare the hookers more than the attacker."

"Nevertheless..." Evan Tillery favored the sheriff with a frown of disapproval. "How do you hope to solve the crime if you don't go out and talk to people?" he asked in an irritated voice. "There might be a witness...or even just somebody who thought something looked suspicious."

"Sonny, if I had a nickel for every nut in this town who THOUGHT something looked suspicious, I could retire. Christ, I have a whole damned town full of Mrs. Kravitzes...Marion Harmon visits me at LEAST once a week with an apple pie and a week's worth of gossip that she got from that old Johnson biddy up on the hill. If there was an eye witness to any of these attacks, somebody would have come forward already. Nobody can keep a secret in this town for long, even the ones who DON'T want to be in Rufus Tate's newspaper."

"A walk wouldn't hurt you in any case," Evan commented, looking pointedly at the sheriff's belly. "And what harm could come of it? The attacks that happened last year occurred on or near the docks. The last two attacks were on or near the docks. Doesn't it make sense to you that the next attack MIGHT be ON or NEAR the docks?"

"Of course it's occurred to me. And that is precisely why I requested Jack Spenser from the Rockport force to come to town and work undercover for me. HE is down on the docks as we speak, collecting clues, as it were."

"I know Jack Spenser, he attended the same university I'm at. He flunked out in his first year, and he's an unparalleled imbecile. I don't wonder that the Rockport chief was anxious to unload him...the only things he's collecting on the docks are blow jobs and unearned paychecks," Evan replied. "C'mon, you've as much as admitted that I've been right, so far...can't you give this a chance, too? All we need to do right now is take a walk and talk to people...ask them to keep their eyes open."

Sheriff Patterson heaved a heavy sigh and stood. Tillery had only been around for a couple of days, but Patterson already knew he was licked. He nodded and grabbed his coat as they walked to the door.

9 - Desperate Moves

Barnabas held her by the arm and led her through the house and up to Josette's room. He opened the door for her and let her pass, then closed it behind him and pulled her close. Fired by the feel of her, he crushed her to him and his lips closed upon hers violently.

Josette fought off her revulsion as she returned his kiss, and then struggled back with a nervous laugh.

"Barnabas!" she said in a voice of mock outrage. "You have to let me get cleaned up first...I've been lying in that dusty cell all day. You can't want me like this?" Her enormous eyes looked at him questioningly.

His body told him that he wanted nothing more, but his arms dropped down slowly and she quickly stepped out of his embrace.

"Well...if you must make me wait a little longer..." he smiled, but his eyes burned as they gazed at her.

"I must," she giggled. "Can you have Willie bring me some warm water?"

Barnabas felt another wave of excitement wash over him as he imagined a sponge running over her naked body. "I can do better than that," he replied softly. He opened the door again and took her hand, leading her down the hall. He pulled her into the enormous remodeled bathroom, and swept his hand toward the old fashioned claw-footed tub, complete with modern plumbing. He walked over and turned on the faucets until the water ran warm over his hand. Then he reached inside a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of bath oil. Removing the cap, he poured a generous amount into the water. She recognized the jasmine scent and turned away from him as memories of another bath, in the House by the Sea, made her eyes fill. She wanted to be with Nicholas, but she'd never get away if she didn't pretend otherwise. She quickly dried her eyes. She had to be strong. If she faltered, he would guess that it was all an act and she'd never see Nicholas again.

While the water ran, he stood and walked slowly over to her. He pushed the straps of the gown down over her shoulders, and traced his finger lightly over one of her breasts. She gritted her teeth and steeled herself, waiting for him to push the gown off altogether.

He gazed at her and he could feel his fangs extending. His finger moved softly back up over her shoulder and lightly caressed her neck. That was what she had wanted, he remembered. What she had begged from him. It would be so easy to just do it now...to pierce her soft flesh as it glowed in the golden lamplight. "I must go now," he whispered. "Or I won't ever leave." Then he stepped back and left the room quickly, closing the door behind him. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief.

Willie was standing by the fireplace when he heard footsteps on the stairs ten minutes later. Once again, he'd been flooded with feelings of that night so long ago. He felt so confused. Could she really be Maggie? She must be. She had to be. And in the midst of everything that had been done to her, the memories had returned...the memories of that night. She remembered it, and now she wanted HIM. He could hardly contain his excitement, but he couldn't let on to Barnabas. Yeah, he wasn't so stupid, he thought, remembering her words. He'd go along. It would be enough for the moment to just imagine touching her again.

He whirled around as he heard Barnabas enter. Rather than berating him, though, Barnabas walked over and sat down in the chair opposite the fireplace. "Tell me what happened," he said softly.

"I just gave her that shot like you told me...and it knocked her out. She slept all day long, and didn't wake up until just a little while ago. She's been acting weird since she woke up, though. She ain't mentioned Nicholas Blair once."

Barnabas looked thoughtful. "Could the drug have affected her memory?"

"Maybe. She sure ain't acting like she was before."

"She's my Josette again," said Barnabas, looking very pleased. "She hasn't asked me about Blair, either. It's as if she doesn't even remember him." He sighed. "It's like it was before," he said fervently. "I knew she'd come back to me! I must make this evening perfect, Willie! This shall finally be OUR night."

As Barnabas began talking about dinner, Willie tried to hide his growing excitement. She was pretending...if her feelings for Barnabas were for real, she never would have said anything to HIM. Yeah, he thought...ole Willie ain't so dumb. Josette really WAS Maggie. The Maggie that had existed before Blair even came along. The Maggie that hated Barnabas Collins...the Maggie who had begun to care for him. He could feel a pulsing erection begin to grow as he imagined the two of them together again. He close his eyes for a moment, and he could feel her mouth on him, the light roughness of her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin...and then his own tongue between HER legs, teasing her into orgasm after orgasm and leaving her shrieking in ecstasy...and then ramming himself into the heat of her, thrusting to satisfy the aching need in both of them until his cock, harder than diamonds, suddenly emptied its stream of juices into her and feelings of undiluted pleasure coursed through them both....just like that night. Jesus, he thought. He had to stop thinking about her or he'd come if he brushed up against the curtains. Nodding to Barnabas about making the proper arrangements for dinner, he excused himself abruptly and almost ran to his room.

A short time later, clad in a large towel she stepped quietly back into Josette's room. Her room. She glanced around, and then walked to the chifforobe and threw open the doors. A cream-colored gown hung there. It was a copy of the dress she had been wearing on the day he'd proposed to her, nearly two hundred years ago. He still remembered what it had looked like. In fact, he remembered what everything had looked like -- the room was an exact replica of her room in 1795. Some of her original things were here too, she noted, as she softly touched her old hairbrush and mirror. Suddenly her eyebrows flew up. She rose quickly and walked to the large bureau across the room She opened the top drawer and began rummaging around inside. Within seconds she smiled brightly as she found what she was looking for. She could hardly believe it was still here, exactly where she'd left it.

The sheriff and Evan strolled along the docks, quietly observing the activity. As Patterson had suspected, the prostitutes had hidden from sight, but they were able to stop and talk to a few of the longshoremen. After awhile, though, Patterson's earlier exasperation began to return. As he'd suspected, no one had seen anything.

"This is a waste of time," he said, glaring at Tillery.

Evan started to respond when a scream erupted from a nearby alley. They both rushed down the street and turned the corner. One woman lay on the ground, and another crouched over her, calling her name. As they approached, both saw the bleeding neck wound.

"Oh, thank God! You've got to help her, please!" the woman cried.

"Quick, run over to the diner and call for an ambulance," Patterson ordered.

Evan nodded quickly and tore across the street. Patterson stooped down and grabbed the unconscious woman's wrist, taking her pulse. It was still beating. He sighed with relief at the break. He turned to the other woman. "What happened?" Her eyes widened and she didn't answer. "I won't arrest you," he said quietly. "I'm not here to bust anyone for turning tricks, but I do need to know what happened here...and who she went off with...if you saw him," he finished hopefully. She swallowed hard and began slowly. "I only caught a glimpse of him. We were out walking...the boys usually get their breaks about now. I went off with one of the chaps, and just as I was leaving with him, some other guy -- somebody I've never seen before -- came up to Gloria and pulled out his wallet. "What did he look like?" "He was tall, with dark hair...His back was to me, so that's all I could see right then. I went off with my fella, and came back fifteen minutes later. I looked around for her, and didn't see her, so I figured he must have paid for more than a blow job...she does those in about ten minutes flat." She took a deep breath. "I sorta paced around a little, and then walked by this alley and looked in. I didn't really expect to find her here, but there they were, in that corner over there. The alley was dark, but I could see them a little because of that light bulb." She pointed to an outdoor bulb that hung in one of the doorways. "Something just didn't look right...he was holding her up and he had his mouth on her neck. And she was making a lot of noise."

"What kind of noise?"

The woman looked embarrassed. "Well...you know. Like she was enjoying it, whatever he was doing. That's when I knew something was off."

"Why?"

"She doesn't do this for fun," she said simply. "And it's usually the MAN making the noise...he's the one who paid to feel good. So, anyway...I called to her, and said to wrap it up...that we had other customers waiting. Just then he let her go, and she fell to the ground. He looked right at me, and his eyes were--were--" She paused.

"Were what?" Patterson asked impatiently.

"They were glowing! This bright gold color. It wasn't a reflection, either. He stared at me for a minute, then he took off down the alley, and disappeared into thin air. I've never seen anything so scary." She shivered. "I ran over to Gloria and she was just lying here, her neck bleeding."

Evan Tillery ran back into the alley. "The ambulance is on the way," he said.

"Good. Even better, we have an eye witness." Evan Tillery grinned widely as Patterson continued. "Miss, what is your name?"

"Gillian," she replied quietly. "My name is Gillian."

"Well, Gillian, I need you to come to the police station with me and help me fill out a police report."

"You're not going to arrest me, are you?"

"No! No, of course not. I just need your statement in writing, with the best description of the man you can provide." He paused. "After the ambulance leaves, will you please come with us? After we're done at the station, I'll have Mr. Tillery here drive you over to the hospital."

She gulped and nodded. Patterson smiled grimly. Finally...a real break.

After he'd fed her a light dinner, Barnabas and Josette sat in front of the fire, and she sipped on a brandy as they shared reminiscences from nearly two hundred years before. She was dressed in the cream colored gown, and had put her hair up, arranging the curls in a semblance of the style he liked. She wished desperately for an aspirin...she felt exhausted despite the heavy sleep she had experienced, and the force of keeping the gentle smile on her face as they spoke was taking its toll. When he left the room for a moment, she rose quickly and ran to the brandy decanter. She filled her glass and gulped its contents...then filled it again. She wanted to run away but didn't dare...Willie stood just outside the front door. She couldn't risk it...yet.

She had returned to the loveseat by the time Barnabas returned, and she felt a little better, but the fire and the brandy were starting to make her drowsy. Finally, when she tried to suppress a yawn, he rose. He quickly leaned over and picked her up, then headed for the stairs. He carried her into her room and kicked the door shut before placing her gently on the bed. She leaned back and closed her eyes, saying a small prayer that she'd be able to endure the inevitable.

He went over and turned the key in the lock and then returned to her side. He quickly began undoing the buttons of the dress and pulled it off her. She had on a long slip underneath. He moved onto the bed and began to caress her, touching her breasts. He pushed the straps of the slip down and ran one index finger over her nipples while his other hand took hers and placed it on his stiff erection. With an imperceptible sigh of relief, she immediately began to move her hands over him. Perhaps if she could satisfy HIM, that would be enough. She braced herself as she increased the speed and power of her strokes.

With a groan, Barnabas rolled over onto his back. "Forgive me, Nicholas," she thought, as she undid Barnabas' pants quickly and his cock sprang forth. Her fingers curled around the top of him and she pumped her hand up and down, rubbing him faster and faster. She leaned over and teased the tip of his cock with her tongue and he cried out, writhing under her insistent caresses, his body lurching, his face twisting in ecstasy. The pressure built and he felt like his cock would explode as her fingers and tongue worked over him. He tried to hold back, wanting to make the sensations shooting through him last forever, but in less than a minute he shouted and lunged upward as his semen spilled over...then he fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. "Josette," he murmured softly.

She looked down at her hand, sickened by what she'd had to do. She rubbed it hastily against the slip, wanting to rid herself of the sticky wetness. Then she backed away from him slowly and reached under the bed, grabbing the rosary she had found earlier. She raised it toward him as she climbed off the bed, and his eyes flew open when he felt her move away. He cried out in pain when he saw the small wooden cross. In a sudden rage, he lunged for her and she lashed out at him, swinging the rosary and hitting him sharply. He fell back and she ran to the door. She struggled with the key in the lock as he rose slowly and shook his head. She fumbled and dropped the rosary, and as she stooped to grab it his senses returned and he rose and ran to her side. Before she could get her hands on it he knocked it out of reach and yanked her up, spinning her around to face him, and savaging ripping the slip to reveal her breasts. She screamed as he ran his hands over them, and she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

"What a clever little bitch you've become...I should have known you were lying," he whispered viciously, his mouth close to her ear. "You can't escape me, Josette. I'll never let you escape me. Never." His fangs bared and he leaned over her neck. She gasped as she felt the sharp teeth pierce her skin and tried to push him back...and then she felt it. She tried to fight but the sensations overwhelmed her and within seconds, uninhibited feelings of ecstasy began to course through her as his mouth worked over her neck in a gentle sucking motion.

After a moment, she began to weaken and staggered against him. He jerked her back upward, grasping her around the waist with a cruel strength. She thought of Nicholas, and her body tensed. "No!" she whimpered.

He felt her begin to resist and his hand reached down and touched her silky skin, stroking her neck softly. Then he sucked even harder as his fingers moved down over her breasts again, this time teasing her nipples until they were like firm little marbles. She gasped as his hand roamed further, sweeping over her abdomen with feathery caresses before falling lower still to seek the warmth between her legs. She tried once more to push him away, and then finally surrendered to the spell he cast...as the room began to spin out of control she found that she didn't care if he hurt her, and her arms slowly fell to her sides. Seconds later, he removed his fangs from her neck and she slid to the floor in a dead faint.

10 - Closing In

Josette opened her eyes slowly. A candle glowed softly in the corner, and she could see the outline of a man in the shadows. She blinked, and after a moment, she realized it was Willie. He'd fallen asleep, slumped in the old chair, and she was back in the basement cell.....a prisoner once more. She tried to sit up but cried out in pain and fell back. Awakened by the sound of her voice, Willie leaped out of the chair and rushed to her side. He sat down on the bed beside her.

"Maggie? Maggie, are you OK?" he whispered in a worried voice.

"Willie?" Her voice was faint, but she reached out toward him.

He grabbed her hand and held it. "Yeah, Maggie, I'm here. What did he do to you?"

She closed her eyes again. He thought she was Maggie....she'd nearly forgotten. Even in her fragile state, she realized that the deception might be her only means of salvation. Willie loved Maggie....was it enough to throw off the control of a vampire? Maybe he could be persuaded to get her away from Barnabas if he were convinced she might die if he didn't. She felt so weak that she was starting to think she might. What HAD Barnabas done to her? This was so different from the first time.....and nothing like what she had felt with Nicholas. Tears welled up in her eyes. Where WAS Nicholas? She missed him fiercely. Suppose something had happened? Suppose he didn't find her in time? Suddenly, she began to shiver violently.

"Maggie?" Willie reached out and brushed her hair back from her forehead, and then grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over her shoulders. As she continued to shiver, he began to panic. He quickly inspected the bite marks on her neck. Had Barnabas taken enough to kill her?

"I'm so cold, Willie," she whimpered. "I'm so cold."

He reached under the blanket and touched her softly. "I won't let him hurt you again, Maggie."

"He'll kill me, Willie. He'll kill me if we stay here."

"Ssshhhh," he whispered softly. "You're too weak to go anywhere right now." He saw that she was still shivering, and he lay down on the bed and put his arms around her, trying to infuse her with his own warmth. Gone were his earlier feelings of sexual excitement.....now he merely felt an urgent need to protect her. He ran his hands up and down her back while murmuring words of comfort. Gradually the shaking stopped, and he realized that she'd fallen back into a state of unconsciousness.

Terror gripped him. He had to do something, he thought. Could he get her away from here? Barnabas would kill her if he didn't. It would be just like last time. He'd hurt her and humiliate her.....and then he'd kill her. Willie looked down at the pale, but still beautiful face of the woman he held. He couldn't let that happen. He'd take her away from her. Somehow, he'd get her away. But where would they go? His frown lines deepened as he began to ponder a means of escape. After a moment, he disengaged himself and ran upstairs to the drawing room.

Nicholas stood in the woods, and called to Diabolos. He murmured the short incantation in a calm voice but inside he was shaking. Diabolos had to listen.....he had to. He'd never beg -- Diabolos would consider begging a weakness and punish him accordingly -- but he could bargain. If he had to go back to the netherworld, he'd go. If he could never see her again, he'd endure it. But he had to get her away from Barnabas Collins, and be assured of her future safety. That was all that mattered.

After a few moments, the image of Diabolos appeared. Nicholas steeled himself for the usual mockery.

"Nicholas, even Aladdin only got three wishes," he said in a voice of exasperation. "Whatever do you want NOW?"

"I need my old powers back."

"Amazing! Concise and to the point. Drinking blood instead of brandy has improved your powers of communication immensely. I may just keep you like this."

Nicholas ignored the taunt. "I must get her back and I need my old powers to do it. You're the only one who can return them to me." He paused and then had an inspiration. "I don't believe you want me to lose," he said slowly.

"What makes you think I don't?"

"You've invested a great deal in me and you want your money's worth. Very well, then. You must give me what I need to get her back."

Diabolos looked thoughtful for a moment. "And what do I get in return?"

"Entertained, just as you wished. That IS what this is all about, isn't it? You know I can put on quite a show.....provided I have the tools to do it."

Diabolos let a small smile escape. "Very well. I will alter the conditions of the game." He waved his hand and Nicholas felt a chill wind seep through his skin. After a moment, his master spoke again. "You are still a vampire, but at sunrise, you will no longer need to return to your coffin. As of this moment, your old powers are restored to you. You have until dawn." He paused. "I will tell you that she is very weak. And you have more enemies to fight than you think. You have until dawn to find her, Nicholas, and to eliminate the opposing game pieces on the playing board. If you do, she shall be yours, and I will release you both from the game. If you fail, SHE will become a vampire and be lost to you forever."

"Dawn! It's not enough time," Nicholas sighed in frustration.

"It's all you get."

"At least tell me who else I must fight."

"You must use your wits to figure that out, but I would begin in town if I were you." He looked at Nicholas levelly. "I seldom make concessions, Nicholas. Don't ask for more than I've already given you."

Nicholas lowered his head. "Thank you." he said quietly.

The image of Diabolos slowly evaporated.

Gillian sat in the sheriff's office poring over photos of dark-haired men with prior arrests. She flipped page after page in the large book of mug shots, but kept shaking her head.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't any of these men," she said in a weary voice.

"If we brought in an artist, do you think you could give a sharp enough description for someone to put together an accurate sketch?" Sheriff Patterson asked.

She thought for a moment. "I could try," she said simply. "It was dark though...the only light was from his eyes."

"At least it'll be something." Patterson reached for the phone.

As he saw the sheriff turn away, Evan Tillery sauntered over. "No luck?" he asked her.

"None, I'm afraid," she replied. "Not that I'm really surprised. This guy didn't exactly look like your stereotypical convict type.....he was well groomed. Well dressed. Soft spoken. Like I said, though...there WAS something really off about him."

Evan considered her impressions for a moment. Then he decided to change the subject.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked.

She smiled. "That would be wonderful. Has there been any word on Gloria?"

"Only that there's no change in her condition." He walked over to the coffee pot and returned with a steaming cup of inky liquid.

"You can drink this stuff?" she asked, peeking inside and looking dubious.

Evan laughed. "Well, I can.....but then I'm used to the crap they serve in the college cafeteria, too. It's multi-purpose....sometimes we borrow a pot and use it in our pens to write term papers."

She smiled and began to relax. He was easy to talk to. "Do you think you can catch this guy?" she asked.

Evan pondered the question for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I know what we're up against. It's crazy -- and not too many people would believe it, but I think I've got the sheriff convinced about what to look for. If you can give us an even remotely accurate portrait of the attacker, I'm betting we can get him."

"Then I'll do the best I can. As I said I didn't get a close look at him, but I think I can remember enough to give you an idea."

Evan reached over and touched her shoulder. "You'll do fine. And it WILL help a lot. And for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure that once this guy is taken care of, you AND Gloria will be OK."

Half an hour later, the sketch artist arrived and Gillian began giving him details of the man's appearance. Gradually the face began to take shape. "He had more hair," she noted. "No, no....there was more gray.....and his face was more rugged-looking, I think."

Patterson listened to her and nodded approvingly. She had a pretty good memory for details. Those eyes must have REALLY glowed. Ten minutes later, the artist finally held up the picture.

"Yes!" she cried. "That's him!"

Sheriff Patterson and Evan Tillery both turned and looked at the sketch. Tillery's face wore a blank look, but the sheriff's mouth dropped open immediately. "I'll be a son of a bitch," he said softly.

Outside the station, Nicholas kept a watchful eye on Patterson's face as he looked at the picture. Then he smiled, and disappeared into the night.

Willie looked at his watch nervously. They wouldn't be safe until dawn. But where was Barnabas? Suddenly, he heard the upstairs door slam, and a few minutes later, footsteps sounded on the stone steps. Willie jumped up as he saw Barnabas descending into the cellar. His heart pounded as Barnabas approached him. Barnabas stared hard at Willie, and then at Josette.

"Stand aside, Willie," he ordered sternly.

"No." Willie was resolute, despite his fear. He'd never been able to fight the blood bond before, but now, new strength surged through him whenever he glanced back at her.

"Willie, I'm warning you --"

"I don't care, Barnabas," he cried. "I ain't gonna let you touch her. It ain't gonna be like it was the last time. She ain't Josette no more. She's Maggie -- MY Maggie -- and I ain't gonna let you hurt her! Not you OR Nicholas Blair."

Barnabas shot him a look that said clearly he thought Willie had lost his mind. "She was never your Maggie," he murmured with an evil smile. "She was never YOUR anything, but I do remember how you wanted her to be. You nearly died for her, didn't you? And she barely noticed....and never even cared. All you're standing in front of, Willie, is a mirror image of what you always wanted...and what you can NEVER have. She's Josette. She's my Josette, but she's betrayed me.....just like the last time. It happened first with Jeremiah.....and now with Nicholas Blair. She must be punished. But I won't lose her, Willie. I swear to you, I will kill her and make her what I am, and then we will be together for all eternity. She will never be yours....and she will never return to Nicholas Blair."

Willie laughed crazily and then his face darkened. "Oh, you're right about one thing. She AIN'T goin' back to Nicholas Blair," he said solemnly. "But she ain't stayin' here with YOU, either. You're done. You're both done." He bent down and reached for the gun he'd retrieved from upstairs and hidden under the pillow.

The two men squared off. Willie stood his ground next to the bed.....a barrier to protect her. Barnabas glared at him with menace, and began to advance. Willie aimed the gun, but they both froze as they heard a loud crash upstairs and the sound of shattered glass hitting the floor.

11 - Face-off

Sheriff Patterson grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "C'mon!" he yelled over his shoulder to Evan.

Startled by his vehemence, Evan started to protest. "Wait a minute! Where are we going?"

"Just hurry up!" Patterson yelled impatiently. "There's no time to lose, it's nearly dawn...I'll tell you on the way."

Evan glanced quickly at Gillian as he rose. "Wait here until I get back," he cautioned and hurried after Patterson.

She started to ask why, but he was already out the door.

Evan barely got the car door closed as the sheriff peeled out of the parking space. "For Christ's sake!" he yelled. "What's gotten into you? Where the hell are we going?"

"Let's just say that I'm finally convinced about your theory."

Willie glanced up as he heard the glass shatter on the upper floor. With lightning speed, Barnabas seized Willie and got his hand on the gun. Caught in an iron grip, Willie kept his own hold on the weapon, and struggled to free himself as the vampire bared his fangs.

As the two men battled in the basement, Nicholas crawled quickly through the drawing room window and used his heightened proximity sense to locate Josette. After a moment, he ran toward the door that hid the cellar stairs.

He could hear the sounds of scuffling as he moved cautiously down the steps. Finally, he'd descended far enough to look into the room. He stopped abruptly and stared at the bizarre scene before him. Josette was lying on a cot, eyes closed. She seemed lifeless, but Nicholas could sense her shallow breathing. Willie and Barnabas struggled above her, arms raised in the air, both fighting for control of the gun that held the silver bullet. Both men gritted their teeth as the gun inched first toward one, then toward the other. Barnabas was poised to bite Willie, but didn't dare lean completely over, lest he lose control of the gun. Time seemed to stop as Nicholas watched and waited to see who would win.

Finally, Barnabas got the upper hand and pushed the gun up toward the ceiling, firing it into the air. As the gun went off, Willie fought for his balance, and in a split second Barnabas grabbed the gun and leaped back. He stared at Willie savagely as he aimed it at the young man's heart.

"You've finally gone too far, Willie," he whispered icily.

Willie leaned forward slightly and struggled for breath. "Barnabas -"

"Quiet! It's too late to beg. You've betrayed me. You KNOW how I feel about betrayal, Willie. YOU know...and Josette knows. And you are both going to die tonight."

Willie took a step back toward the bed, standing in front of Josette, and blocking her protectively.

While Barnabas continued to speak, Nicholas tiptoed softly to the foot of the stairs. He raised his hand and extended it toward Willie slightly, whose eyes instantly glazed over. He made no sound as Nicholas crept up behind the rival vampire.

Suddenly, Barnabas screamed and the gun clattered to the ground. Willie's eyes suddenly came alive again, and he gasped in horror as he saw Nicholas leaning over Barnabas, fangs sunk deep into his neck. Barnabas continued to scream, and his own fangs distended as he thrashed about, arms raised and reaching behind him, trying to get a grip on his captor.

Willie stood by the bed, rooted to the ground and staring at the surreal actions of the two men before him. He looked up sharply as he heard a cock crow in the distance, announcing the imminent arrival of the dawn.

Willie ran back to the bed and gathered Josette into his arms.

"You still haven't told me where we're going," Evan commented as the car sped along the old road.

"Collinwood. I believe we'll find our suspect at the Old House."

"What changed your mind?"

"That picture that hooker drew," the sheriff answered quietly. "I never knew exactly what to make of the odd stuff that kept happening around here, but I didn't want to believe you at first, because it all just sounded too damn weird. Everything you said made sense - given what had been going on - but Christ! What are the odds?" He shook his head. But...I've had my suspicions about him for awhile now, and even though I tried to come up with an answer that sounded more -- well, NORMAL...I just couldn't get everything you told me out of my head. And when I saw that sketch...well, suffice to say that I just KNOW the man we want will be in that house tonight."

"Who is it? Whose face did you see?"

The sheriff smiled grimly as he told him.

Barnabas fought to free himself from the fangs rooted firmly in his neck, but he could feel himself getting weaker. In one last burst of strength, he wrenched himself away. In a flash, he whirled around and caught Nicholas in his grasp, yanking the other vampire toward him and sinking own distended canines into the soft flesh of the exposed neck.

Nicholas screamed as the pain stabbed him. He felt the blood gush from him and found himself unable to pull away, his own strength now ebbing. Drawing on every ounce of his concentration, he focused his powers on Barnabas, trying to force him to release his iron grip. Barnabas resisted, and continued to suck greedily, in a last desperate effort to regain complete control.

Nicholas continued to focus. It became a contest of wills...Nicholas drew picture after picture of twisted hellfire and warped inhumanity and sent them into the mind of Barnabas Collins...one terrifying image after another, hoping that the continuous assault would break his concentration. Finally, Barnabas stiffened at one particularly horrifying depiction, and was distracted for just the split second that Nicholas needed. He pulled back sharply, and once again spun Barnabas around, snapping his head back to expose the neck. As leaned swiftly over and bit him savagely, Nicholas kept firing the images at Barnabas until he screamed in agony, and fell limply against him.

Feeling the blood flow back out of him, bitter laughter echoed through Barnabas' mind as he thought of the irony. "Josette!" he cried one last time. Losing HER was the unspeakable agony. Blair could only inflict the physical pain. The anguish of his heart would kill him. Barnabas looked over at the empty bed to see her one last time. His eyes widened in surprise. She was gone. Willie had taken her. Suddenly he grinned, a certain triumph in his eyes.

"You won't have her, either," he whispered to Nicholas. "You'll never have her now."

The last of his might seeped away and his knees were on the verge of buckling. Then he felt a prickly heat feeling begin to permeate him, making his body tingle. The sun! The sun was beginning to rise on the eastern horizon. He collapsed onto the bed, unconscious.

Nicholas watched him fall. It was over....almost. "Josette," he whispered, and ran up the stairs.

Willie laid Josette carefully on the sofa in the drawing room, and then ran over to the desk. He rummaged quickly through the drawers for the car keys. As he looked, he spied his old switchblade amongst the junk in the drawer. He grabbed it. He had to get her away from here NOW. Finally, he spied the keys, but just as he laid his hand on the keyring, Nicholas burst through the door.

"Loomis!" his voice thundered.

Gravel flew as the squad car peeled into the driveway. Evan and the sheriff both threw open the doors and leaped out, racing for the front door. They both noticed the broken window, but ran past.

"You're sure he's still here?" Evan panted.

"I'm betting on it. C'mon, there's no time to lose."

They tried the doorknob, but found it locked. The sheriff paused for a brief moment, and then raised his foot toward the door.

Josette opened her eyes. "Nicholas!" she cried.

Nicholas started to run toward her, but as Willie gripped the keys in one hand, he flipped open the switchblade he held in the other. Once again, he positioned himself between Josette and his aggressor. "Don't you come any closer!" he yelled, as Nicholas approached.

Nicholas tried to make Willie drop the knife, but found himself powerless. His fight with Barnabas had taken the last of his weapons. The sun was close to rising...in minutes, he'd be a vampire no more. Would Josette rise in his stead?

Josette began to weep softly. "Willie," she murmured. "Willie, please let me go."

Willie's eyes widened in surprise as he turned back toward her. "No," he said softly. "No, Maggie. You don't want to go. You want to be with ME...remember? You TOLD me."

"Move away from her, Loomis," Nicholas ordered.

"Maggie....c'mon, Maggie. I'm taking you away from here. Don't cry," he crooned softly as he walked toward her. "Don't cry."

She continued to weep. "Please let me go, Willie," she pleaded weakly.

His mind wouldn't accept her words. She was distraught...she didn't know what she was saying. "No! NO! He'll hurt you...I've SEEN him! He'll hurt you, just like Barnabas did."

Josette looked at Nicholas. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she spoke in a faint voice. "Willie, I'll die. I'll die if you take me away. I'm not Maggie, Willie. I'm Josette. Nicholas is the only one who can save me now."

"No!" Willie replied savagely. He backed up quickly, and before Nicholas could move, Willie had the knife poised at Josette's throat. His eyes were crazed. "You're gonna be with me forever, Maggie," he whispered.

He spoke over his shoulder to Nicholas. "You're as bad as Barnabas," he spat. "I ain't lettin' either one of you hurt her...not ever again. I'll kill her and me both before you lay a hand on her."

"You're insane!" Nicholas seethed.

Just then the front door flew open and Sheriff Patterson and Evan Tillery ran inside. The sheriff had his gun out and pointed at Willie.

"Drop the knife, Loomis!"

He ignored them and spoke to her. He caressed her hair as he continued to hold the knife against her soft skin. "We'll BOTH go," he said to her. "We'll go to a nice place...a place where no one can ever hurt us again, Maggie." The knife trembled at her throat.

Nicholas' eyes were glued on Josette, and she looked past Willie and gazed back at him weakly. She took a deep breath, and suddenly, Nicholas began to feel her love surging into him from across the room. His strength slowly began to return.

The sheriff kept his gun trained on Willie, ready to shoot the minute the young man's hand moved even a fraction of an inch.

Nicholas spoke in a soothing voice. "Look at me, Willie," he said softly.

"No!" Willie cried.

"LOOK at me, Willie," Nicholas intoned. Both the sheriff and Evan Tillery looked sharply at Nicholas, but neither moved nor spoke.

Willie slowly turned and at last, his eyes met those of Nicholas. The orbs of the warlock bored into him, and instantly, he began to see the same frightening images that had driven Barnabas Collins to the brink. Willie screamed and dropped the knife. "Aagghhh!" he cried, rising and staggering forward. "Stop! STOP IT!!" he screamed. "You're killing me!"

Nicholas pressed on. Fiery image after fiery image assaulted Willie Loomis in rapidfire succession, and within seconds he had collapsed onto the floor, weeping pitifully.

Nicholas ran to Josette and gathered her into his arms just as the sun spilled through the windows of the drawing room. "Nicholas," she whispered. "I was so frightened...I thought I'd never see you again." Tears spilled down her cheeks. He leaned over and kissed her gently.

"Ssshhh," he crooned, as she wept. He held her trembling body closer. "They can't hurt you now. They can't hurt you ever again."

She pulled back slightly and raised her eyes. "Barnabas?"

Before he could answer, Patterson lowered his gun, and walked over to the two of them.

"Are you all right, Miss Evans?" he queried.

Her eyes were blank for a moment, but then she remembered. Of course. He thought she was Maggie. She smiled wanly, and nodded. She felt herself grow stronger. Barnabas' spell was broken.

"Where is Barnabas Collins?" he asked.

Nicholas nodded toward the door to the basement. "Down there," he said quietly, as he gripped Josette even tighter. She would live. She had to live.

As Evan Tillery stepped gingerly over to help Willie, Patterson walked toward the basement door and descended the steps. After a few minutes, he returned to the drawing room.

"There's no one there," he said quietly. "He must have found a way to return to his coffin before the sunrise incapacitated him."

"You know about him?" Josette asked, eyes widening.

"A girl from the docks drew a picture of a man who attacked her friend last night. It was the same as a lot of other attacks that have been happening around here, off and on, for some time now. She gave a description to the police sketch artist, and when he was finished drawing and showed me the picture, I saw the face of Barnabas Collins staring back at me." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Tillery here had already told me his vampire theory -- based on his research and the type of wounds we were finding on the women and animals...I didn't believe him at first, but with all the other strange occurrences around here for the last year or two, well...I finally figured it had merit."

Josette suddenly looked frightened. "But if Barnabas was able to return to his coffin without direct exposure to the sun, then he wasn't destroyed! We're still not safe, Nicholas."

Nicholas remembered Diabolos' promise. "You have until dawn to find her, Nicholas, and to eliminate the opposing pieces on the playing board. If you do, she shall be yours, and I will release you both from the game," he had said.

"We'll be safe," he whispered, drawing her close to him. "For awhile at least. I know we will." But as they whispered words of love to each other, he fought off a creeping feeling of disquiet. He'd won the fight...but since he hadn't permanently destroyed Barnabas Collins, had he lost the war?

Thick fog had stolen over the cliffs and was now inching into the forest. The shadowy figure of Diabolos hovered in the dimness of the tall trees near the Old House, reading the thoughts of Nicholas Blair and smiling wickedly. Once again, Nicholas and his woman had provided superior entertainment, and he'd keep his end of the bargain...for now. He hadn't promised Nicholas that he'd let him go forever. He grinned as he held his hand out in front of him and opened his fist to reveal a brass key. Then he placed the key in the pocket of his robes and disappeared into the mist.

EPILOGUE

In the months that followed, a deceptive calm returned to Collinsport.

Willie Loomis, driven mad from the images with which Nicholas had assaulted him, was taken away to Wyndcliffe. When various forms of treatment proved unsuccessful, he was finally put on full time medication and left to gibber senselessly about a woman named Maggie.

Julia Hoffman, finally convinced that Barnabas Collins would not return to the Old House, left town and resumed her full time work at the sanitarium. She tried to help Willie, but eventually turned her focus toward her other patients.

After the case was officially closed, Evan Tillery went back to the university to finish his final year of research into paranormal studies. He convinced Gillian to go with him, and the sheriff, grateful to the both of them for their help with the case, conferred with a friend of his on the university board, and a job was offered to her in the administrative offices. Everyone was very kind to her, and she eagerly learned to type, file, and run the switchboard. She and Evan continued to see one another, and were married the following year.

Nicholas and Josette returned to the House by the Sea, and let the town continue to think that she was Maggie Evans as they went on with their lives. Their passion for each other reached new heights, and Josette recovered quickly from her ordeal and regained her robust good health. They spent hours making love, spurred on by the memory of how close they had come to losing one another. Loathe to leave her, even for a moment, Nicholas kept up his guarded vigil until he was certain that Diabolos had kept his word and released the both of them from the bonds of the game. Finally he relaxed, sure that the strength of their love had won in the end.

Ten years later.

Beneath the cliffs at the edge of the Collins property, and not far from the House by the Sea, a young girl wandered along the rocky beach, collecting seashells. She stopped every now and then to dig her toes in the sand and look around, admiring the sharp lines of the beauty surrounding her. She loved the beach, especially on days when the mist hovered out on the open sea, shrouding the horizon but leaving the immediate landscape crystal clear.

As she approached the old caves, she shivered. Why did she always feel drawn to this place? Her father and mother had warned her to stay away from the caves, and until today, she'd always watched them warily from a distance. She started to turn around, but felt something tugging at her, pulling her toward the entrance.

She moved closer.

Then closer.

Then even closer.

Finally, she stepped inside.

The cave was dim, but enough light shone through so that after a moment spent getting her bearings, her surroundings took on more clarity. She gasped as she saw the chained coffin before her, with a brass key lying on the ground nearby. What was this? Why would someone put a locked coffin here, and leave the key behind?

The chill inside her grew and she turned, poised to run. But again, she felt something calling her. Heartbeats, she thought. She could hear heartbeats.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. She moved slowly toward the key, and bent down to pick it up. There was only one lock. With a trance-like look in her deep brown eyes, she reached over and grabbed it, shoving the key inside. She turned it counterclockwise, and the lock sprang open. The chain fell away.

Thump-thump.

She sat down next to the coffin and maintained a silent vigil until the sun fell behind the nearby hills. The cave got darker and darker as dusk approached. She knew she should leave and return to her home by the sea -- her father and mother would be worried about her -- but she found that she couldn't move...didn't WANT to move. She needed to wait for the coffin to open.

Thump-thump.

Slowly, the lid rose and a hand reached out toward her. She sat paralyzed as the man's fingers softly stroked the curls of her dark hair.

"Josette," he whispered.

The End

Go To: Part 1 | Part 2

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