The Isle: A refuge for fan fiction: Crossovers

Dark Frontier
By JM Lane

Rating: T | Status: Completed | Genre: Sci-Fi | Series: None
Summary: Star Trek/Dark Shadows Crossover. Bringing together the two casts for a tale of
romance and intrigue.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 1

James Kirk couldn’t believe that Starfleet Command could actually be serious about sending the Enterprise all the way back to Earth--a full fifteen parsecs out of their way—to investigate a series of mysterious deaths and disappearances, all said to have been caused by supernatural means. Just what that means was, the Captain could not have said; he knew only that to believe in the supernatural in this day and age was the next thing to absurdity.

And it was a cinch that if he held this opinion, Spock and Bones would as well. Unfortunately, it was their duty to investigate the deaths, however they had come about, and do their best to make sure that no more lives were lost. He frankly dreaded having to brief them on the subject, but it was necessary, so he might as well get it over with. He reached for his ship wide command intercom to summon his First and Science Officer as well as his CMO.

"Kirk to Spock and McCoy. Report to me in my quarters immediately."

**********

"My God, Jim, has Fleet Command gone totally screwy or something?" McCoy demanded, exasperated even more than he usually was--and that was saying something. "They’re sending us fifteen parsecs out of our way to investigate some deaths supposedly attributable to supernatural causes?"

"They can’t explain them any other way," Kirk returned. "And it’s our job to see that there are no more, whatever we have to do--no matter how far-fetched and impossible we may think it is," the Captain finished.

"Haven’t you got anything to say about this situation, Spock? You’re usually the first to speak up," the Doctor remarked, surprised at the Vulcan’s uncharacteristic reticence, even for him.

"I did not believe there was anything relevant to say," the First Officer replied coolly.

That never stopped you before, the Doctor couldn’t help thinking, but remained silent, returning his attention to Kirk. "When are we supposed to arrive at Earth, Jim?"

"At 1700 hours tomorrow," the Captain informed him. "Admiral Komack has even made reservations for us at the Collinsport Inn."

"How generous of him," McCoy returned dryly. "Where the hell is Collinsport?"

"It’s in Maine, on the East Coast, about an hour’s drive from the state Capitol of Bangor. I think Komack said it was fairly small, roughly 1700 population," Kirk elaborated. "It was named for the Collins family, prominent citizens of the area since the 17^th century. In fact, that was when the city was founded."

"Did the Admiral give any estimation of how long it would take to accomplish the mission, Jim?" the First Officer inquired of his CO and closest friend.

"Depends on how long it takes to catch whoever’s been killing people," Kirk told him.

"Or whatever," McCoy finished. "What if the rumors are true and the killer is of super- natural origin? Remember what happened with Redjac, how he not only possessed Scotty and killed all those women on Argelius II, but almost destroyed us all when he took over the ship’s life support systems."

Kirk barely suppressed a shudder at the thought. "Thank God you had that strong tranquilizer." The Captain sighed and stood up to stretch after rising from his seat at the Briefing Room table. But all we can do now is wait and hope for the best. Good night, Bones; make sure to tell Christine to report also…and Spock, contact Security and have our best two Security people, one male, one female, report for duty--Dickerson, maybe, or Leslie--then Davidson, the top female Security officer."

"Yes, sir," the other two said almost simultaneously, privately wondering just why the Captain wanted one Security officer of each gender, but figured Jim must have a good, if not logical, reason. He usually did.

Either way, this mission was likely to prove, if not the trickiest, the most unusual (even terrifying) one they had ever been on, if even half of what the rumors said was true. Kirk could not have spoken for his two friends, but he himself was frankly not looking forward to this mission…not one damned bit. He would have denied it had anyone suggested it; neither could he have said just why--but he was scared at the prospect of going to Collinsport.

Scared as all hell…and getting more so by the minute.

* * * * * * * * *

The ship arrived half an hour before they were due to beam down, as was their custom,

to give the landing party time to retrieve any needed equipment and assemble before transport down to the Inn. The Transporter Chief had been given the coordinates which would put them just outside the aforementioned establishment. All they had to do then was walk up a short flight of stairs, then automatic doors would open to admit them.

Spock and the Security people, Andrew Dickerson and Elaine "Lani" Davidson, as she was known to her friends, were patiently waiting for the rest of the landing party to arrive. They didn’t have long to wait. Kirk came in first, followed by the two Medical Officers, McCoy and Christine. All carried travel bags, and the latter two medical paraphernalia, including medikits and tricorders.

Well, Bones, are you ready?" Kirk asked as everyone assembled on the transporter plat- form preparatory to beaming down.

"No, but you wouldn’t let that stop you," McCoy groused. "Besides, somebody’s got to go and keep a medical eye on you, what with your and Spock’s penchant for going in where angels fear to tread."

"Stay here, then. Christine can look after us."

"Not even Christine could handle you two alone," the CMO retorted.

A moment later, before Kirk had time to draw breath for a reply, the six members of the party dissolved into gold shimmers and were gone.

***

They materialized in front of a building which looked as though it had been plucked right out of the 19^th century. A fancy wooden scrolled sign painted in green and gold with "Collinsport Inn" depicted in black Old English lettering hung on two hooks, a wooden pole with a curved beam sticking out over a green, well-tended lawn. The sun was well down and the shadows were beginning to lengthen as the party made their way up the short stairway to the door.

As they stepped inside, Christine saw a tall, dark and ruggedly attractive man in a dark, high-collared, tiered and floor-length cloak standing nearby. What little she could see of his clothing otherwise was a well-tailored navy blue or black suit and tie with a white shirt. She then turned back to follow the others to the desk for check-in.

As they reached it, a warm, pleasant and cultured male voice with a touch of a British accent spoke to her. "That suitcase looks heavy, my dear. Will you allow me to assist you?"

Christine looked up at him; his eyes were a warm brown and he had a sallow, almost olive complexion, similar to Spock’s. The bangs of his black hair were situated in several points slanted across his forehead.

"It’s very kind of you to ask, but I can handle it," she returned with a smile. She didn’t notice Spock turning his head in her direction and raising one questioning eyebrow before turning away again.

"Please. It’s no trouble, I assure you." The newcomer took the suitcase and carried it to where the rest of the Enterprise party’s luggage was. This time the entire rest of the party gave

her a funny look; Christine shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Thank you…uh…" Her voice trailed off.

"My name is Collins. Barnabas Collins. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear lady. And your name is--?"

"Christine Chapel," she supplied. "Good evening, Mr. Collins. I’m Assistant Chief Medical Officer on the U.S.S. Enterprise, and these are my shipmates." She introduced her new acquaintance to the others, then turned to follow them as they started for the elevator. The inside of the building was every bit as old-fashioned-looking as the outside, but something told her that the Inn must have all the current modern conveniences or else it could not have stayed in business for so long.

Barnabas called to her. "Might I not spend some time with you while you’re here?"

"Your invitation is appreciated, Mr. Collins, but I’m afraid we’re going to be very busy,"

she told him politely but factually. "We’re here to find out who’s behind all the recent killings."

"Call me Barnabas," he told her. "Besides, I highly doubt that you will be occupied with your mission 24 hours a day."

That put her off-guard, if only for a moment; a lapse which Barnabas took full advantage of. He met her blue eyes, as beautiful as those of many of his lost loves, including Josette, with his own. Christine found his eyes as compelling and hypnotic as Spock’s; one could easily drown in their fathomless depths without trying. She found herself giving in to him against her better judgment.

"What did you have in mind…Barnabas?" she asked.

"Dinner, perhaps, or a show? There is an excellent movie house just down the street. I would be honored to escort you."

"What’s playing?"

He named a current favorite of hers; surely just a coincidence, but a favorite nonetheless. Christine smiled and nodded. "I’ll see what I can do. However, I doubt that the Captain will let me go without one of our Security people along as a precaution."

Barnabas smiled, instantly attracted by her lovely smile and sparkling eyes--eyes the color of the morning sky, which he had not seen for more years than he cared to count. "Quite understandable. One cannot be too careful, even nowadays."

"Where may I contact you to let you know one way or the other?"

He seemed uncomfortable, even uncertain, for a moment, then said, "I am living with a cousin at the moment. I’ll give you his comm number." He handed her a slip of paper. "I’ll be waiting for your call. Please do not disappoint me." He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. "Until later tonight, my dear."

"Christine!" the Captain called impatiently.

"I’ve got to go," she told him. "I’ll be in touch."

Barnabas smiled again and nodded in her direction, then was gone—almost too quickly, as if he had disappeared into thin air. Just as his lips and hand had seemed almost unnaturally cool, even allowing for the night air and time of year, late fall, late October, in fact…near Halloween. But there was no time for her to dwell on it now. She had to get back to the others.

"Coming, Captain!" she called back.

Again, the others all gave her a funny look when she rejoined them.

"That guy sure as hell was persistent," McCoy observed. "I noticed that he wouldn’t take No for an answer."

"It is also illogical for you to accept a ‘date’ with a virtual stranger, Miss Chapel. For all we know, he could be the killer." Spock’s voice was laced with disapproval.

"I agree," Dickerson concurred. "I don’t think you should go with him."

She shook her head and laughed, though Spock was more right than any of them could possibly have known at the time. "I doubt that very much, Spock," Christine said, addressing herself to the Vulcan. "He wants me to accompany him to a movie and dinner. I admit he was persistent, but was also most charming and polite--and had the most compelling eyes! When he looked at me the last time, I couldn’t turn him down."

"I don’t think that would be wise, Miss Chapel…at least not without one Security officer along as a precaution," Kirk remarked, an almost protective note to his voice as the party headed for their suites.

"That’s what I told him," she replied. "He didn’t seem to mind the idea."

"Who did he say he was?" the Captain asked. "I only caught his first name--Barnabas something."

"It’s Collins," Christine supplied. "Seems like we’ve already met up with one of the illustrious Collins family."

"In that case, do you think he’d be willing to talk about his family background? We’re going to need all the help we can get in solving this mystery," McCoy asked.

"I don’t know, Leonard. I’d have to ask him. I don’t even know how he’s related…or even if he’s related."

"Since you insist on meeting with him, it would be logical to find out all you can, Miss Chapel," Spock put in.

Not too long afterward, they reached their quarters. Christine would be sharing with Lani Davidson, while Dickerson would bunk in with the senior officers.

"I’ll see what and how much I can find out, then let you know," Christine promised as Kirk

and the other men prepared to enter their suite. Lani Davidson had opened the door to theirs and stood in the open doorway, waiting.

"Please do," Kirk told her. "As Bones said, we need all the help we can get to accomplish this mission." He then stepped forward into the suite and everyone made their good-nights.

Christine’s eyes met Spock’s briefly but neither of them spoke, and she could have sworn she saw a look in his eyes akin to jealousy at the idea of her going out with another man. She liked the idea, but knowing Spock, she couldn’t afford to take it seriously--not at this point in time, when she was so unsure of him and how he felt about her.

And besides, it did him good to be reminded once in a while that if he didn’t have sense enough to claim her, she wasn’t about to sit home when she had the chance for some male company, to be with a man who could openly show his attraction to her. And all the better that

it happened to be a man likely to be of considerable help to them, especially if he was willing to talk about his family to any extent.

"Coming, Christine?" Elaine Davidson asked, a touch of impatience in her voice.

"Yeah, Lani. Sorry to keep you waiting," the female Doctor apologized.

"No problem," the younger woman assured her superior. "At least not as long as we can get into our room right away." She smiled knowingly. "Besides, you’ve got a date tonight--and since the Captain’s given you permission to go, you’ll have to call and let him know when to come for you…then have time to get ready."

Christine smiled, chuckled and walked past Elaine into their room; the latter carefully locked it behind them. A few minutes later, after the women had settled into the room, Christine called Barnabas, surprised when his comm showed an audio-only signal. That was strange, since he’d looked okay to her when she saw him--but again, there was no time to dwell on it.

"Barnabas? It’s Christine," she said when he answered. "I can go. When will you come for me?"

"Marvelous," came his reply. "It’s six o’clock now…or 1800 hours, your time. Can you be ready in an hour?"

"My room number is 223," she told him. "We’ll be waiting--both me and my chaperone," she teased. "See you at 1900 hours."

"I am very much looking forward to it," he replied warmly. "I’ll see you soon. Farewell."

Again, she was both awed and intrigued by not only Barnabas’ Old World charm but his indefinable air of mystery, as if he were hiding many secrets. With any luck, maybe she could learn a few of them tonight. She cut the connection and prepared herself for her unexpected but most welcome date--particularly if it happened to shake up a certain Vulcan, even a little!

***

Christine was pleased to note that Barnabas arrived promptly at 1900 hours… and again, impeccably dressed. He smiled and looked her over; she wore a long, sky-blue and glittery Empire waisted dress with long fitted sleeves, which ended in points on her slender hands. The top of the dress dipped low enough to show some cleavage, leaving her creamy neck and shoulders bare below the IDIC earrings she wore in her pierced ears.

She held a white shawl, along with her silver and gold glittery evening purse, which con- tained some Vulcan/Rigellian perfume which was a mixture of rose and honeysuckle scent, a comb, some hairpins, her medikit and even a debit card for fifty credits: "mad money", as it were, just in case of necessity. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, a gold and pearl headband assisting the hairpins in holding it in place.

At the sight of her, especially the lines of her beautiful neck and shapely, feminine body, Barnabas was warmed with both desire for her and hunger for her warm blood. Still, the latter desire was tempered by his innate decency and strong desire not to harm her, whatever the cost to himself or anyone else who might come in contact with him--up to and including any other member of the Enterprise landing party.

He had known many beautiful women in his long sojourn on Earth, but none quite like her. If only for that reason, he had to control himself and show her the best time he possibly could on their date.

"Lani, come on," Christine called over her shoulder. "Barnabas is here and we’re getting ready to go!"

"Be right there," the other, smaller woman called back. She appeared a few moments later, clad in a smart yet functional (and form-fitting) pantsuit of royal blue with gold trim on the pant- legs and jacket, a gold turtleneck sweater underneath it and regulation boots. Christine didn’t see a phaser or communicator anywhere, but was sure they were concealed somewhere on Lani’s person, since it was SOP for a Starfleet officer to carry a communicator and weapon on any and all missions, if not a tricorder as well.

When she joined them, Christine again introduced them. Barnabas smiled at Lani and said, "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Davidson, and feel most fortunate indeed to have two such lovely ladies to accompany me tonight. Shall we go?"

Lani still seemed wary, but Christine sensed that, like herself, the younger woman was slowly but surely being won over. Even at that, she still had a job to do, and was very serious about her work. Each woman then took an arm of her escort and left for the evening.

***

They went to the Inn’s restaurant for dinner; the fare was simple but very good. Each woman ordered a meat dish, but Barnabas stuck to tomato soup and ice water. When Christine questioned him, he explained that he had to follow a special diet because of a food allergy and had to stick to liquids as much as possible. It seemed plausible enough on the surface, but at the same time, something about it just didn’t ring true--something which continually eluded her, no matter how hard she tried to put her finger on it. She didn’t want to believe it, but was half-convinced that Barnabas was lying to her for some reason, was hiding something from her…but what?

***

Not long afterward, they all finished their meals and headed for the theater. They took their seats about halfway down, Christine on the right, Lani on the left. They soon became en- grossed in the film, but at one point, Christine became aware that Barnabas was holding her hand. She looked up at him, but he was staring straight ahead. Again, his hand seemed un- naturally cool to her, but otherwise strong and firm, yet gentle. At a later point, she felt him brush her hair away from one ear and gently kiss it.

"Christine…" he whispered, his voice soft and husky.

"Yes?"

"I would very much like to kiss you. May I do so?"

She touched his cheek and smiled assent; a moment later his lips met hers. They were

cool at first, but soon warmed up as the kiss deepened, his arms tightening around her and vice versa. They were somewhat reminiscent of the one time Spock had kissed her, albeit under duress, on Platonius--but this encounter was consensual.

Christine checked out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Lani’s attention was on the film before giving herself up to the sensations her escort’s kiss was evoking in her before stroking the back of his neck, prompting a soft moan from him as he continued to kiss her. At

the same time, part of her was wishing that it could have been Spock.

After a time, she moved her head to bare her neck and throat to his lips, as yet unaware of the chance she was taking by allowing him access to it…and only by the barest thread did Barnabas manage to keep from biting her. Instead, he merely kissed the warm, scented and silky bare skin she presented to him.

"Christine, I can scarcely resist you," he murmured into her fragrant hair before returning to her lips. "I would like so very much to make love to you. Do you think that would be possible?"

The question was sudden but not entirely unexpected; even at that, she scarcely knew what to say. She could not deny her strong attraction to Barnabas, but was it strong enough to also deny her feelings for Spock and give herself to another man?

"It’s possible," she found herself whispering back in the heat of the moment.

His arms felt every bit as strong as Spock’s, although she knew he couldn’t possibly be, being Human (or at least looking it). "When?" he whispered against her ear. "I do not know how long I can wait."

"I would have to contact you again; I can’t say for sure right now."

"If not your room, could you come to my cousin’s home?" he asked. "I have my own room there, and he respects my privacy, so he would not disturb us."

"Oh, Barnabas, you tempt me. You surely do tempt me," Christine whispered, by now her own voice as husky as his.

"Ah-hum!" Lani’s impatient voice broke in. "Time to go, lovebirds!"

Christine broke the embrace, blushing furiously. She had not felt such strong desire for a man since Psi 2000 or Platonius. Despite that, however, her heart and mind still belonged to Spock, though it was still doubtful as to when or if he would claim her.

"Sorry, Lani," she made herself say. "We just got carried away."

"Obviously," came the dry retort. "I was beginning to feel like a voyeur, the way you two were going at it."

They left the theater a short time later, Christine noting on the town clock that it was 2215 hours. "We’d better get back to the Inn," she told her date. "I’ll contact you if I’m able to figure a time for us to get together again," she promised.

Barnabas kept an arm around her as they walked, Lani on his other arm. "Please don’t forget," he entreated. "I need you." He lowered his voice just so Christine could hear it.

"I won’t," she assured him as they headed back to the Inn.

By 2230, they had arrived back there; Barnabas insisted on seeing Christine to the door of her room. She told Lani to go inside and wait for her; she would be in in a few minutes. The

girl seemed reluctant at first, then after a stern look at her companion, shrugged and went inside…though Christine was sure she was listening at the door.

Barnabas drew Christine into his arms again and resumed kissing her passionately, but made sure to stay away from her neck, because he didn’t think he could resist the temptation again. "Sleep well, Christine," he finally said after reluctantly releasing her, raising her hand to his lips one final time. "Think of me."

"I will," she replied, her head still spinning from Barnabas’ intoxicating kisses and passionate caresses. She hadn’t felt like this since Platonius… The only thing which would have made it perfect was if it had been Spock.

Damn it, why can’t I stop thinking of him for even a moment? Christine berated herself.

Oh hell, I forgot to ask Barnabas about his family! Now I’ll have to see him again, if only for that reason.

Once Barnabas was gone, Christine went inside to find Lani waiting impatiently, arms crossed and tapping her foot. "Well! I thought you’d decided to go home with him, the way he was all over you at the theater."

"I’ll excuse that on the grounds that you’re only trying to protect me. Otherwise I’d put you on report for insubordination to a superior officer," Christine told her subordinate. "As for the rest, that’s my business, not yours."

"Okay," Lani shrugged. "But you know that you’re supposed to be here to do a job, not have a romantic rendezvous, especially not with a man you barely know."

"Don’t push it, Lani. I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl," Christine warned.

"Now let’s go to bed."

Within half an hour, all was silent in the darkened room except for the soft breathing of the two sleeping women. Around half past midnight, however, Elaine woke to a soft squeaking sound that seemed to be coming from the window, something only her trained ears could pick up. She felt around in her jacket pocket for her hand phaser, setting it on heavy stun before carefully making her way to the window, where she was sure she’d seen movement as well as heard the squeaking sound again.

She opened the window and looked out, but saw nothing. However, just as she was getting ready to close and lock the window, she heard the strange squeaking noise again. Her head then turned in the direction of the sound, her phaser raised and her finger on the trigger, but before

she could move to fire it, a bat flew in and attached itself to her neck. She screamed and struggled desperately to get it off her, but after it bit her, she stopped struggling and collapsed to the floor as the thing fed on her for several minutes, drawing at least a pint of blood before withdrawing, leaving two ragged, bleeding punctures behind.

After the bat flew out the second-story window of the Collinsport Inn, it flew to a nearby apartment building, where there was another open window on the tenth floor. A moment later, it changed into Barnabas Collins, who then entered a secret compartment behind one wall of his room and got into the empty casket waiting there. He was now satisfied for the night and wanted some private time to think about Christine.

***

Christine awakened to a horrifying sight. The window was open and Lani was lying on the floor, unconscious, her neck bleeding from two ragged holes. She forced back a scream at how deathly pale the young woman looked as she knelt down to examine her after grabbing her medi- kit. In the course of her examination, she learned that Lani had lost almost a pint of blood. Some- thing had attacked her, something which could fly, something which had obviously come through the open window…but what? These were the same kind of marks found on the necks of the other victims--and they were now dead. Or were they?

But she couldn’t think about that now; Lani had to be taken care of. She got the younger woman onto her bed and stabilized her condition, treating her neck wounds, but she was still going to need a transfusion. Christine then went for the com-unit and called the suite across the hall. Spock answered, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Christine still in her nightgown. She was too distraught to notice that he was only in a robe himself.

"Spock here. What is wrong, Miss Chapel?"

"Is Dr. McCoy awake? I must speak with him!" she exclaimed.

Before the Vulcan could reply, however, McCoy came into view, still in PJs with his hair tousled and yawning deeply. "Chris, what the hell’s wrong? I heard you yell clear into the bed- room," the Doctor groused sleepily.

"Ensign Davidson has been attacked. I woke up to find her on the floor, unconscious,

with the window open and two bleeding, ragged holes in her neck. She’s also lost at least a pint

of blood and is going to need a transfusion!"

There was stunned silence for a while, then McCoy said, "Oh my God…it’s true!" A moment later he looked up at Spock. "Get Jim in here. I think we’re about to start earning our pay!"

***********

Barnabas mentally kicked himself for having left a victim behind the way he had, but his hunger had been too great to resist. Thanks to his weakness, his curse, the search for the mysterious attacker would now kick into high gear and the Enterprise Captain would more than likely prompt his people to start investigating in earnest, doing whatever was necessary to find the culprit who had attacked not only one of their own, but at least half a dozen others--and he had no doubts but that they would eventually discover his secret. Once that happened, he hoped that they would allow him to tell his story before judging him, but he couldn’t count on that.

And when they did, he was sure that Christine would want nothing further to do with him. In fact, she would most likely be terrified of him. He couldn’t bear the thought, but there would be little he could do to prevent it. But his only other choice would have been to attack someone else, and no matter how great his hunger, he never have harmed Christine. At least not at this point in time could he bring himself to do so…or betray her trust, much less the feelings she seemed to be developing for him, despite the deep feelings he sensed from her for her superior,

the non-Human, the--Vulcan.

He had done some research and discovered that Spock’s mother was Human and that his father was some kind of high official, perhaps even an Ambassador, if the reports were true. He had never seen such a Humanoid before, with pointed ears, upswept eyebrows…and green blood! It was even said that his father was an extraterrestrial, which would make Spock
half-extraterrestrial, which he seemed to be--at least physically.

He considered Spock’s reaction to him and Christine, wondering just how Spock felt toward her. He suspected the Vulcan’s feelings for her were a lot stronger than he would ever admit to publicly, especially to her, much less anyone else…at least at this point in time. He found it difficult to understand how such an intelligent, advanced race as the Vulcans could have eschewed emotion in favor of logic, even given the explanation that it had been necessary in order to control their emotions since they had been such a passionate people at one time--and if the truth be told, still were.

He had done some more research on Vulcan physiology and learned that the green blood was based on copper, not iron, as was the red blood he was used to. Part of him was curious to know just how it tasted and how it might affect him, if at all. Of course, another part knew that Christine would never forgive him if Spock (or any of the others) were harmed. Particularly if she learned that he had been the one responsible for the attack on the young woman assigned to protect her. Not to mention the other, repeated, attacks…some uncharacteristically savage…that she and her shipmates were here to investigate--and he could well imagine what would happen once they had discovered the whole truth about him.

Meanwhile, of course, he intended to enjoy Christine’s company for as long as he possibly could, preferring not to think of what might be in store…both for the Enterprise party and him- self.

***

The following evening Barnabas was pleased to receive another call from Christine. They made plans to get together again at 1900 hours, this time at his cousin’s home. He had told her that said cousin would likely be out for the evening, so they would have sufficient privacy for whatever they wished to do, be it talking of his family or making love--if not both. He was also

not surprised when she had told him she had questions for him most likely about his family, which he could answer with little trouble compared to the ones she was likely to have about the attacks, particularly if Christine asked if he had any idea who was responsible for them.

Barnabas had never found it easy to lie, for he was basically an honest person…but over

the centuries he had found it necessary to do so on occasion in order to protect his secret. Even so, many had learned it and had helped him protect it over the course of his life, but at the moment, only his cousin Quentin, who had had a most unusual life himself and consequently har- bored secrets of his own--was privy to it.

Which brought to mind something else he had learned about Vulcans…that their lifespan was anywhere from 200 to 250 Standard years, depending on their lifestyle. Not anywhere near as long as he and Quentin had been around, but at least it was a normal lifespan rather than an enforced one--so Spock could expect a natural death one day, in the event he survived his military service.

Something Barnabas himself could only dream of, something he could not expect unless a miracle occurred and a doctor could be found like Julia Hoffman, who had done research into his affliction and devised a possible cure. Almost up until the day she died, Julia had been treating him, but the treatment had ceased shortly after her death, when her supply of serum had run out. Because of this, he had reverted to his former state, because he hadn’t known just what was in it, nor had he had any way of obtaining the necessary ingredients even if he had known.

It had been another three centuries since then, which meant that he had essentially been cursed for almost half a millennium--and he frankly didn’t see any end to his vampiric curse or his hunger for blood. This was the reason Barnabas had always fought his feelings whenever he had found himself attracted to a given woman, because the only way he would have been able to end his loneliness would be to make his latest love into the same kind of thing he was.

In spite of his growing attraction to Christine, he couldn’t bear the idea of her being cursed as he was…and worst of all, knowing that he would ultimately be the one responsible for making her such. Oh well, there was no point in dwelling on it; there was nothing he could do to change matters. Not unless he was somehow able to convince Christine and her colleague, Dr. McCoy, to work toward a cure for him, which they just might be willing to do. Once they had learned his secret and got used to the idea, that is…if they got used to the idea.

It was just as likely that they would feel duty-bound to destroy him. He could not expect them to be willing to help him, especially not after what he’d done, nor could he blame them if they felt they had to kill him once and for all. Even at that, Julia had left him all her notes and the formula for her serum in the event he found someone willing to help him; all it needed was the right agent to make its effects permanent.

As it was, he had required shots at least once a week and Julia had warned him that he would require the injections regularly until and if she could discover the agent to make her serum work on a permanent instead of temporary basis and allow him to remain Human. Unfortunately she had been unable to do so--and his last hope for deliverance from his affliction had died with her…or so he had believed, until now. But that was only if all went well, and after repeated disappointments, Barnabas could not allow himself to expect the curse to be lifted any time soon.

Meanwhile, he had best prepare himself for Christine’s arrival, do his utmost to make the evening memorable for her. Perhaps he could even share some of his favorite love poetry with her --or failing that, some of his favorite musical selections.

***

Christine arrived at precisely 1900 hours; Quentin had gone out for the evening just an hour before. Barnabas had assured his cousin that she would be safe, that he had made certain to take a dose of blood so his craving could be kept under control while he was with her. Quentin had naturally had his doubts, but knew how stubborn his older cousin could be, that he was as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar once he had made up his mind about something…or someone.

The last woman he had seen Barnabas act this way about was Roxanne, but before that, there had been Maggie Evans, who had been governess to his nephew David for a number of years before the destruction of Collinwood in 1970 Real Time--then before that, Victoria Winters, the first governess at modern Collinwood--not to mention Lady Hampshire, a widow he had met some months after her husband’s death in 1970 Parallel Time.

All had resembled his lost fiancée from the 18^th century, Josette, to some degree. In fact, Lady Hampshire had been the only woman he had proposed to other than Josette. Until Chris- tine, he had not felt so strongly about a woman unless it was Roxanne in 1840 Real Time, so much like her 1970 counterpart in Parallel Time, with whom he had fallen in love while trying to get her out of Angelique’s clutches. So much alike…and yet so different.

Barnabas very much disliked the idea of giving Christine up, but if he had to, he fully intended to have some beautiful memories of interludes with her to sustain him first--only one of which would likely occur tonight.

"Good evening, Christine," he said, kissing her hand again upon ushering her into the apartment. "It is most pleasant to see you again."

"You, too, Barnabas," Christine smiled after he had seated her on the couch. He then made her a drink and seated himself next to her with his own. She took a few sips, then sighed, set her drink down and leaned back on the couch as if exhausted.

"Are you troubled about something, Christine?" he asked, his vampiric senses detecting her distress.

She sighed again and sat up, holding her drink in her hands. "There was an attack on one of our Security officers. I found her unconscious and bleeding from two ragged puncture wounds in her neck. My scans found that she’d lost at least a pint of blood. We had to call the hospital for a transfusion. She’s resting comfortably now, but it’ll be a while before she’s back to herself once again. Not only due to the loss of blood, but the trauma of the attack. We’ve not been able to get her to talk about it, and have no idea when--or if—she’ll ever be able to, even if she recovers physically."

"I am sorry," he returned sincerely. "It’s most regrettable. I hope she is better soon."

"Thank you for your good wishes," Christine smiled…a sad smile, Barnabas noted, even as he detected worry in her. "I’m sure Lani will appreciate them. I only wish we could have caught who, or what, attacked her, so it won’t happen to anyone else."

"I regret that I cannot be of more help," Barnabas told her, hoping he could make himself sound convincing--and he must have succeeded, for Christine smiled and relaxed once again.

"Maybe you can," she replied. "What can you tell me of your family background? Are there any ‘skeletons in the closet’, as it were? Anything you can share would be greatly appreciated, since all we have to go on is what Fleet Command was able to provide about the earlier attacks--and that’s pretty sketchy."

"I’ll tell you all I can," Barnabas promised. "Is there anything specific you are curious about?"

"Not specifically. Anything you can recall should help, particularly if it relates to this investigation in any way," she assured him.

"Very well. I only ask one thing."

"What is it?"

"May I hold you as I do so?"

Christine smiled to herself. It seemed a small thing to ask, although she was sure Barnabas had plenty more in mind than simply holding her…but it had been so long since a man had held or kissed her. Their ‘first date’ had been the first time in God knew how long that she had known a man’s arms around her, the touch of his lips and hands. Of course, she would have preferred them to have been Spock’s, but any port in a storm…

Christine moved close to her companion, cradling her head on his shoulder as Barnabas slipped his arms around her in a strong but gentle embrace. They kept their drinks within reach, occasionally taking swallows, but for the most part they were quiet, simply enjoying the other’s closeness.

"Would you like some music, Christine?" he asked her.

"Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite or Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, if you have them."

"My cousin does," he told her. "In fact, they’re two of his favorites. I can have them played for you while we talk, if you like."

"Would you? I’d love to hear them."

"Excellent. Stereo on," he said. A moment later she heard the beginning of the Nutcracker Suite and lifted her head to face him, surprised.

"How did you manage that? Starting the music, I mean," she explained. "Everything seems so old-fashioned here."

"Not our sound system. My cousin recently installed a state-of-the-art system. It’s as modern as today’s technology can make it--right down to the voice operation mechanism."

"It’s great. I feel as if we’re surrounded by the music," Christine remarked.

"There are speakers set at strategic points throughout the apartment. We can hear music where-, when- and however we like."

"If I have too much of this, I’m going to get spoiled," Christine told him. "I don’t have anything like this, even in my planet-side apartment or my quarters aboard ship."

"I would very much enjoy ‘spoiling’ you, Christine, if you give me the opportunity," Barnabas told her, his lips resting on her hair before gently kissing it.

She once again cradled her head on his shoulder; his hands entwined at her waist to hold her securely. "I can’t say how often I’ll be able to see you," she warned. "Depends on how busy we get on the investigation and how long it takes to solve it."

"I understand," he returned quietly. "Meanwhile, I intend to make the most of what time is granted me to spend with you." He began telling her all he recalled of his family history, including as much history on previous attacks as he deemed safe. She turned on her tricorder to catch it all, because even as good as it was, her memory could not be totally relied upon to remember all he had told her.

It was some hours later that Barnabas seemed to be ‘talked out’. Christine turned off her tricorder and said, "That should be a great help. Your family history sounds most colorful, if not downright fascinating. Is there any way I could learn more?"

"Perhaps at the Collinsport Hall of Records," he suggested. "They go back to when the city was first founded, so if what I have told you doesn’t help, something there surely will."

She lifted her head to face him again, mesmerized by Barnabas’ deep, fathomless brown eyes. So much like Spock’s, yet so different. She reached to stroke his cheek, then ran her fingers through his thick black hair before once again stroking the back of his neck. His arms tightened as he moved his lips close to hers.

"Christine, you are so warm, soft and sweet. May I…join with you?" Her companion’s voice was a husky whisper, his breath feathering her lips before he moved to caress her neck and throat, moaning softly.

In spite of her earlier resolve not to give in to him, Christine found herself unable to resist, wanting him to kiss, caress and love her within an inch of her life. "Yes, Barnabas--Yes! Love me tonight. I need you so much."

He needed no further encouragement to gather her into his arms and stand up to carry her into his bedroom. A short time later they were behind his locked door; their kisses and caresses became progressively more passionate yet more tender than either had believed themselves capable of before now. Once both were undressed, he lowered her to the bed, his body following hers down.

The music of Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, then the Ravel piece Bolero, Camille Saint-Saens’ piece Le Cygne (The Swan), and finally the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack respectively served as background for their rendezvous. Christine had always dreamed of something like this…but with Spock! Who would ever have thought she could feel so fulfilled by Barnabas’ lovemaking? If she hadn’t already been in love with the Vulcan, it would have been frighteningly easy for her to have fallen in love with Barnabas Collins.

It was unfortunate that she had to go home soon--back to the Inn--by 0200 hours. The Captain had made her promise to return by then, or else he would send someone after her, probably Dickerson…and she didn’t want that. When they finally came back to earth, she was lying intricately entwined with Barnabas, both of them totally enervated, her head on his chest over his heart, his chest hair feeling soft but wiry against her cheek. She could feel his heart pounding, still racing from their last passionate joining and intense orgasm, just as hers was.

"Thank you, Christine," he whispered, kissing the top of her head before ruffling her hair affectionately. "I shall remember this night for as long as I live."

"As will I," she assured him. "But I’ve got to get back to the Inn before the Captain sends the other Security officer after me."

"Understandable," her lover replied. "I shall see you home, then."

"That’s not necessary, Barnabas. The Inn’s not far from here and the streets are well-lit."

"I still dislike your going home alone, especially in light of the most recent attack," he returned, voice laced with concern for her safety.

"When is your cousin due back, then? Perhaps he could see me home," Christine suggested.

"Not for another hour, if not longer, I’m afraid--which would make it well past two a.m. before you could arrive home."

She sighed. "Then I’ll call the Inn and have one of the guys pick me up…whoever’s awake…if that’ll make you feel better."

Barnabas sighed and shook his head resignedly. "No, that is unnecessary; just be careful."

"Don’t worry, I will. Thank you for a most enjoyable night."

"Thank you, my dear--and I hope to see you again soon. Take care," he told her as she

got out of bed and dressed. He followed her out to the door after donning a robe. "Please contact me once you arrive back at your room. I will be unable to sleep otherwise for worrying about you."

Christine smiled and touched his cheek one last time. "I will. Good night, Barnabas."

"Good night, Christine."

The door had barely closed behind her when a strong hand clamped around her wrist. She was all ready to scream when she realized who it was.

"Spock! What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"The Captain became concerned at your lengthy absence, so I volunteered to go after you and make certain you were safe," the Vulcan explained.

"Very thoughtful of you," she returned dryly. "But I’m fine." She sighed and tried to twist away from him, but couldn’t. "Now kindly release me. You’re cutting off the circulation in my arm."

Spock’s grip relaxed but he didn’t release her. "What happened here tonight that took so long?"

"That’s my business," she retorted. "Besides, why should it matter to you what I do or who I see, as long as I’m not bothering you? You forfeited any right or say you ever had over my con- duct a long time ago by rejecting me so totally and completely."

Spock was stunned speechless, wanting to deny her accusations but unable to because she was right. After the way he had treated her all these years, he had no say in what Christine did with her life. Why was he even here? He could just as easily have ordered Dickerson to come for her. Had it been his atypical jealousy of Barnabas Collins’ attentions to her which had prompted his actions, or simply fear that the other man would steal her away from him? He had no right to expect her to believe him, even if he could bring himself to tell her how he had come to feel about her, how much she meant to him…but at the same time, he couldn’t let her go without a fight.

"That has no bearing on the present situation. Barnabas Collins is an unknown quantity, and thus could pose a great potential danger to you."

"Really," Christine tossed back sarcastically as they headed out of the building. "Forgive me if I differ with you. Frankly, Barnabas Collins has treated me far better, made me feel much more of a woman in just these last few days than you have since I’ve known you--and he may be

an unknown quantity to you, but not to me. For your information, he told me a lot about his family tonight. A most…fascinating tale. I got it all on my tricorder. He even told me where I could find more information. Does that sound like someone potentially dangerous?"

She took a breath, then continued. "He’s even showed me attention, romantically speaking, and demonstrated concern for my safety, which is more than I can say for the likes of you," she retorted bitterly. "In fact, I’m convinced that you wouldn’t care if I lived or died--and at the moment, I consider him far more trustworthy than you. At least he’s never done anything to

hurt me, make me feel inferior or shunt me aside. Again, which is more than can be said for you." Her voice became progressively colder as they neared the Inn.

Once they arrived at her door, she turned to him. "Thank you for escorting me back here, however--or should I say thank the Captain? It’s far more likely to have been his idea rather than yours. No doubt you were simply following orders, doing your duty rather than something you truly wanted to do. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. Good night, Spock…and do me a favor after this--stay the hell away from me! That shouldn’t be very hard to do, since you’ve man- aged so nicely for the last twenty years."

With that, Christine opened her door and stepped inside, then closed it firmly in Spock’s face. He sighed and turned to go into the suite across the hall, which he shared with Jim, the Doctor and young Dickerson. Hopefully they would all be asleep, so he wouldn’t have to answer any questions, for which he would be thankful, since he didn’t feel up to it anyway.

A short time later the Vulcan got into bed and put himself into a sleep-trance, though it took him twice as long as it normally did to get into the proper frame of mind. Of course, he would also have denied that Christine’s treatment of him had had anything to do with his present emotional turmoil, but he was fooling no one but himself. Certainly not Jim or the Doctor, much

less Christine, though they were very good at making him think he had pulled the wool over their eyes, as it were.

But sooner or later, nothing he could do or say would convince them that Christine didn’t matter to him because they would know otherwise, whether she chose to believe he cared for her or not…and at this point, she couldn’t be blamed if she didn’t. However much it may have hurt him, Spock knew that his pain was hardly comparable to the pain he had inflicted on Christine all these years by consistently pushing her away, both emotionally and physically.

He didn’t know what to do or say to convince Christine of his sincerity, but if he did nothing, she would be lost to him forever. This became more likely with every passing day, with every moment she spent with Barnabas Collins. He knew that she had even been to bed with the man, since the scent of their lovemaking still clung to her. The idea of losing Christine was more pain- ful to Spock than anything else in his life had ever been, more painful than he would ever be willing to admit, even to Jim--and the Vulcan knew he would only have himself to blame if she slipped away from him.

At the same time, if he was proven right and Barnabas Collins was in any way responsible for any or all of the attacks, Spock considered it logical to bide his time until the truth came out

…and with luck, Christine would seek him out and apologize for her actions. He refused to consider any other scenario, such as what would happen if she didn’t.

* * * * * * * * * *

As for the girl who had been attacked, she was now in Barnabas’ power. Her strength was

slow in returning despite the transfusion, so she needed assistance for even the simplest tasks and had only left her bed for the exercise of the usual bodily functions. She also talked in her sleep, seemingly delirious, and what she said made little sense in view of her condition.

"Please…let me go… Don’t stop me…I must go to him… Please…he needs me…"

Questioning as to who Lani was referring to did no good; it was as if she didn’t hear the

questions at all--and even as weak as she still was, she kept trying to leave her bed and would have attempted to leave the room or open the window if she hadn’t been watched constantly. The most they could get out of her was that the window must be kept unlocked and open; she became agitated upon being told that it must remain closed and locked for the safety of everyone.

To calm her, McCoy prescribed the minimum dosage of the mildest sedative he had; otherwise she might have died then…or worse, been attacked again. Even at that, it was all they could do to keep her under control. If they had ever harbored any doubts as to the supernatural origin of her affliction, the doubts were quickly erased by what Lani had said the last time they had prevented her from leaving.

"I’ll get out of here eventually. You can’t stop me…nor can you stop him. No power on Earth can do that."

If only to be on the safe side, everyone had taken to wearing religious symbols shortly after the attack, one of the things said to repel the undead, despite the fact that only the Medical Officers had been present to hear this. It sent cold chills down their spines at the implications of what Lani had said. If her statements were true, nothing they could do could prevent the super- natural being controlling her from taking her and turning her into one such as himself. In that case, they would have little choice but to destroy them both--and the best procedure to destroy the undead was to drive a stake through their hearts. Only that way would they truly be dead… and best of all, at peace.

As much as they hesitated to do so, they knew that if worst came to worst, they would have no choice but to kill Lani in such a manner. McCoy knew Kirk would hate to lose her skills and expertise, but in a very real sense she was already lost to them, even now--and killing her would be an act of mercy rather than murder, however messy and distasteful it might be.

***

Kirk had dispatched Spock and Dickerson to question other guests at the Inn, see if they’d noticed anyone suspicious or heard anything unusual. The best either had come up with were some guests who had been awakened on the night of the attack by Lani’s piercing screams…but no one had seen or heard anyone or anything suspicious otherwise.

The closest thing to it was Christine’s meeting with Barnabas Collins, and when it was

put to her, she flatly denied that he could be in any way responsible and insisted that however strange some of his actions might be, it could be due as much to his British background and mode of living as to the supernatural. She liked him too much to think (or want to believe) other- wise, though inwardly had to admit that his seemingly disappearing into thin air, his odd dietary habits, his audio-only comlink and the fact she only saw him at night could be explained in more than one way—and one of those ways was the one she didn’t want to think about.

Which reminded her, she was supposed to go to the Hall of Records and see if she could

discover any more on the Collins family, improve on what Barnabas had told her. Of course, it might be better if she simply allowed Lt. Marisa Holloway, their historian which specialized in paranormal phenomena, which the Captain had only recently summoned from the ship to look into it--but she would have preferred to do it herself, if only to prove Barnabas’ innocence to the others.

If nothing else, she could go to the offices of the local paper, the Collinsport Sentinel, to see if any of their back issues reported any unusual or unexplainable happenings…specifically those related to the incidents they were currently investigating. Leonard was currently looking after Lani with Lt. Dickerson standing guard now that the interrogation of the Inn guests was completed, so Christine considered it safe enough to leave for a while and send Lt. Holloway to the newspaper offices while she went to the Hall of Records.

After talking with the Captain and obtaining his permission, she triangulated with Lt. Holloway, deciding to have the younger woman meet her in the Inn’s lobby at 1900 hours to compare notes, see what each had come up with. After asking directions, the women split up …Christine going right, Lt. Holloway left. Christine was even lucky enough to see Spock return-ing from the latest interrogation of Inn staff, which he was conducting on his own, inquiring about any unusual occurrences at the Inn--but he didn’t see her: or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge her.

Ordinarily it would have bothered her, but at the moment her mind was on other things, such as her mission and Barnabas. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the tenderly passionate evening the two of them had shared, unable to help wishing she could have had more. Not even Roger had been such an incredible lover! In fact, Barnabas’ technique was reminiscent of what she had always believed an interlude with Spock could be like, if only…

In fact, it would serve him right if he happened to overhear her telling Leonard about her dates with Barnabas, particularly the second one--or happen to make a seemingly casual remark about the latter’s bedroom prowess. She might even do that upon returning from the Hall of Records after checking on Lani’s progress.

Barnabas had even told her about the destruction of the original Great House of Collin- wood in 1970 Real Time and how it had occurred. The tale was too complicated and involved for her to recall everything, but she did remember that Collinwood had been rebuilt shortly after the dawn of the 21^st century, around 2005--some 35 years after its destruction—and that the latest remnants of the family lived there with a few trusted servants.

Barnabas had not been there since it had been rebuilt and re-occupied, although he had heard it was supposed to be better than ever…yet he recalled vividly how beautiful the original mansion had been prior to its destruction. After his vampirism had begun, he had stayed at the Old House, which had miraculously escaped destruction, keeping his casket in a secret compartment behind one parlor wall there until he had relocated Quentin and decided to move in with him about a century or so ago, into an apartment located in a building owned by the Collins family corporation, where they still resided: and they intended to stay there until and unless circumstances dictated otherwise.

***

Christine spent the entire afternoon at the Hall of Records, finding out many things about the Collins family--some of them very strange, unusual and mysterious, even unexplainable--such as the legend that one of the original members of the family had been cursed by a witch when he had spurned her love and he had been put under a vampire curse which would plague him for all eternity. Until he had met Julia Hoffman and began her treatments to become Human again, there had been periodic attacks, officially attributed to some kind of wild animal.

Christine had even found some hard copies of the more colorful family legends, which had been offered for sale (this one among them), and had bought them, along with some computer cassettes of still others to take home for study. Coupled with what they already knew, particularly if Lt. Holloway also hit pay dirt, she was hopeful of soon finding out who or what was behind the most recent attacks and stopping them once and for all.

***

To her delighted surprise, Christine found Barnabas waiting for her outside the Hall of Records when she emerged at 1830 hours. They shared a hug and brief kiss, then she spoke.

"Barnabas, it’s great to see you, but how did you know where to find me?" she wondered.

He returned her smile. "I called the Inn and learned from your…friend Mr. Spock that you were here. He had planned to come for you, but I--convinced him to allow me to escort you home." He frowned. "I had considerable difficulty doing so, getting the distinct impression that he…distrusted me for some reason."

"Well, we still don’t know that much about you, and trust has never come easily to Spock. He also tends to be protective of those he works with or feels close to, particularly women."

"I cannot fault him there, but do not understand why he is so distrustful of me where you are concerned. It is almost as though he were--jealous of me."

"I doubt that very much," Christine returned, although deep down she hoped it was in- deed true. "Spock’s not generally the jealous type, especially where I’m concerned."

She then explained her ill-fated love for Spock from its beginning, shortly before they had found Roger (or his simulacrum) on Exo III, to the present, even including the bittersweet encounters with Spock over the years, particularly the encounter in his quarters during his first pon farr, the time she and the Vulcan had shared consciousness together and the forced kiss between them on Platonius. Barnabas understood why she became so unusually quiet when speaking of these things, sensing that she still harbored deep feelings for Spock despite his treatment of her.

"How have you been able to endure it all these years?" he asked, incredulous in spite of his own centuries-old obsession with his first love, Josette.

"Well, stubbornness helps," she sighed. "And when that runs out, there’s always hope. Not to mention several short-term affairs…but despite it all, Spock has always remained very much in my heart."

"Am I a ‘short-term affair’?" Barnabas asked pointedly. "You certainly aren’t a short-term affair to me," he finished vehemently.

"Barnabas, I’m very fond of you and I hope we can keep in touch even after this mission is over, but—" Her voice trailed off. "I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel used, because you’re the most wonderful person…man…I’ve ever known. You’ve made me feel like more of a woman in just these last few days than I have in years." They stopped briefly about halfway to the Inn so she could touch his cheek, then stroke his lips with a finger. He kissed it before smiling at her.

"By necessity, however, our relationship would have to be a temporary one because of my assignment to the Enterprise. Much of the time, we’re light-years from Earth on urgent missions for Starfleet. It’s also rare that we actually get leave on Earth. It’s more likely to be on a Starbase or someplace like that."

"If we remain in touch, I could arrange to come see you during at least one of those leave times if you’re able to give me enough advance notice," he pointed out. "You would definitely be worth the trip, I can promise you that."

"Thank you, Barnabas. I’m glad you think so." A short time later Christine looked up to notice that they had reached the Inn. "Here’s the Inn. Thank you for your most pleasant company."

"The pleasure is all mine," he assured her. "Take care, Christine; give my best wishes to your friend Lani and all your other shipmates--and good luck in your investigation. I hope my suggestion about the Hall of Records was helpful to you."

"Definitely," his companion confirmed with a smile. I think we’ve taken a big step ahead in our investigation, thanks to you, though it’ll be simply my opinion until everyone else’s thoughts on the subject are heard."

"May I see you tomorrow night? I have told my cousin Quentin about you, and he is most anxious to meet you."

"I’d have to check my schedule and see if the Captain needs me for anything before I can let you know one way or the other."

"Well, you know my number. If you’re available, please let me know and I will come fetch you."

"Will do," she assured him just as she and Barnabas stepped into the Inn’s lobby to see Lt. Holloway standing to one side near the elevators with Spock, seemingly engaged in a most animated discussion. She was too far away to hear what it was they were discussing, but even as they neared the other pair, Holloway broke off her discussion with Spock to greet Christine.

"Christine, you won’t believe what I found at the newspaper offices," the other woman declared. "I even bought some copies of the original issues and articles relating to our investigation. Did you have any luck?"

"Oh, yes. I brought back several copies of the more colorful family legends myself," the female Doctor answered.

"In which case, we’d best get back to the others so we can tell them what we found," Holloway suggested.

"Yeah, we’d better," Christine conceded. "I’ll see you later, Barnabas," she stage-whispered in his direction.

"Later," he returned quietly after kissing her hand again, then seemingly vanishing into thin air.

The three officers went up in the elevator together; Chris was unable to help catching Spock’s sidelong glance at her shortly before they reached their floor. It was a cross between a frown and an outright glare, seemingly at the knowledge that Barnabas had walked her home…and worst of all, denied him the same opportunity. The Vulcan was now convinced that the other man was turning into a serious rival for Christine’s attention, so he had to do something soon or there was a very good chance that he would lose her. But this was not the proper time; they should be alone for such a private discussion. Perhaps there would be an opportunity after the discussion of the information she and Holloway had found.

***

Unfortunately, there wasn’t. The discussion on the various things Holloway and Christine had discovered about the Collins family, including something about Barnabas’ cousin Quentin and the legend that he became (or had become) a werewolf at every full moon, lasted far longer than expected. According to the legend, he didn’t change back until the moon had waned, much meant at least a week of uncontrollable blood lust and a desire to kill all unfortunate enough to cross his path while he was in that condition.

It was possible that he had been the one responsible for the attacks on the other young women, but Spock was convinced that the attack on Ms. Davidson had been perpetuated by a being that could fly--or a being which could turn into something that could fly. But not even a wolf (or wolf-man, if the legend was true) could reach the second floor of a building without assistance of some kind. Ms. Davidson had been attacked by someone or something who (or which) could turn him/itself into a flying creature with a lust for blood.

Such a creature was the vampire, which was believed to have the ability to turn into several things…a wolf, mist or a bat; they could even dematerialize if they wished. But Spock was only interested in the last of the three aforementioned things--a flying creature! That was the only fact which made the possibility of a supernatural being such as a vampire plausible. Spock was not one to believe readily in such intangible things, but the attack on Ms. Davidson could not be explained in any other way.

This made the Vulcan all the more determined not to allow Christine to see Barnabas Collins without a chaperone, even if he had to accompany them himself. There had been no overt evidence that the man was anything but what he seemed, but Spock sensed that Barnabas Collins was concealing something about himself…some strange, even paranormal condition which could make him dangerous to Christine at a time when she was the most vulnerable and trusting of him.

She had told him to stay away from her and not to interfere in her relationship with Barnabas, but Spock was becoming more concerned by the day—not only for Christine’s safety, but her affections possibly transferring from him to Barnabas…and whatever the Vulcan had to do, he could not allow that to happen.

He sighed exasperatedly at how protracted the discussions had become; by the time they finally broke up, most of the Humans (including Christine) were yawning deeply and stretching as they stood up and prepared to go their separate ways. This was in spite of the fact that each of the others had had at least one cup of coffee. Even with the caffeine in the aforementioned hot beverage, Spock felt sure that Christine was not going to be up to another long talk, even if it regarded their relationship and the possible deepening of same.

Spock swore to himself in both his native language and Standard at this latest setback. Surely it was difficult enough to begin and maintain a romantic relationship without such problems as he had been having, particularly if the object of his affections just might be slipping away from him. The best he could do now was walk her back to her room…if she allowed it, that is--and possibly kiss her hands before they departed. As everybody began filing out the main door of the rooms he shared with the Captain, McCoy and Dickerson, where the meeting had been held, the Vulcan stepped up to Christine and quietly spoke to her.

"Christine, may I walk you to your door?"

She looked up at him questioningly. "I suppose so, Spock, but it’s not really necessary, since I’m just down the hall. Unless you really want to, of course."

They had gotten Christine another room down the hall, since McCoy had deemed it more therapeutic for Lani Davidson to have a private room. (The ACMO was now sharing a room with Marisa Holloway.) He also seemed it necessary to give her another transfusion, since she didn’t seem to be regaining her strength as she should…and not even he could have explained why, unless there really was something to all this supernatural business--although McCoy was almost as skeptical as Spock in that regard.

Even at that, he had seen it too often in his medical career not to believe in at least occasional miracles; he had performed too many seeming miracles himself, which had saved the lives of both his friends and various other Enterprise crewmembers. Not until the vampire cloud on Tycho IV had he seen anything like what Lani Davidson was going through now…and if he couldn’t come up with another medical miracle somehow, and soon, she would die--just as the other hapless Security officers had. The question was, would she stay dead?

McCoy shuddered at what he might have to do in the event the old Collins legend of one of the original family members being under a vampire curse was proved true and Lani just his latest victim. If it were true, this being would be at least half a millennium old! And despite Christine’s insistence that Barnabas Collins couldn’t possibly be responsible for Lani’s condition, the Chief Surgeon had to at least consider the possibility. After all, how much did they really know about the man? Even Chris herself had mentioned some of his odd habits…such as only seeing her at night, his audio-only comm system, seemingly vanishing into thin air after his farewells to her, and strangest of all, not eating any solid food, but sticking to liquids.

The Doctor recalled that vampires could not be out in the daytime since it was fatal to them. They also would not show up in pictures or mirrors. The latter would show no reflection, and lastly, because of his hunger for blood, such a being would only be able to ingest liquids to sustain himself. Of course, Barnabas could simply be eccentric; everything he claimed could actually be true--but even if it were, it would be most unusual. If this Barnabas were indeed the kind of thing the Doctor suspected he must be, however, Chris would be in great danger if she spent much more time alone with him.

The legend had also stated that vampires could hypnotize victims (or potential victims) with their eyes and put them in their power either that way or once they had actually been bitten. They were also said to be abnormally strong, so probably not even Spock would be able to stop him if he should decide to take Christine for his own, make her his companion for all eternity.

The closer they got, the more likely that scenario was. In that case, it wouldn’t only be Spock who would do literally anything to prevent that. It would likely be himself as well…if not Jim and Dickerson, too.

Go to: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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