The Isle: A refuge for fan fiction: Dark Shadows

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

"Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."
--Laberius

[Latin translation: To be in love and to be wise is scarce granted even to a god.]

1 - A New Beginning

Nicholas opened his eyes as the warmth of the sun shone through the bedroom window and touched his face. She lay snuggled in his arms, her soft curls falling across her cheeks….he reached down and brushed them back, and then tightened his arms around her while he kissed the top of her head. She sighed and moved closer to him as he lightly caressed her back.

He was still flabbergasted by the turn of events. The vivid recollection of his vain struggle to save her still haunted him….as did the memory of nearly going insane from the loss as she fell, and of the icy feeling that had surged through his veins as he had realized that Barnabas Collins had killed her a second time….

He remembered his heartache as he had entered his empty house…and the wretchedness he had felt as he had looked forlornly into the little room across the hall. And then the note had floated down and landed at his feet. He had rushed into the master bedroom…and as soon as he'd heard the French words fall from her lips, he had clutched her to him. Unable to quell his insatiable desire for her, he began covering her face with kisses until they were both breathless. She had giggled at first, not understanding the intensity of his reaction…..but then her face grew serious as she responded to his passionate touch. They made love throughout the night, lost in the feel of one another until they finally drifted off to sleep, their arms and bodies locked together tightly.

She didn't remember what had happened on Widow's Hill….. in her mind, they had walked over the path to the House By The Sea together…and she had fallen asleep and awoke just as he walked in and touched her. On one hand he was glad she didn't remember the horror of her fall from the cliffs…the pain of the gunshot wound, and her terror as gravity had torn her fingers from his grasp.…on the other, it was a broken tie between them -- perhaps because HE still remembered everything so starkly. He shivered as he recalled the desperate, helpless feeling as he felt her hand slip from his….and her piteous voice as she cried out her love to him at the moment she fell. His agony had been boundless…..and he still feared that she might be wrenched away from him at any moment.

That she had been given back to him was a miracle -- he worried, though, that there was still a price to be paid. His arms tightened around her and he buried his lips in the soft skin of her throat…."Je t’aime," he whispered.

She stirred slightly and opened her eyes. "Bonjour, mon amour," she whispered, as she reached up to touch his face.

He bent over her and kissed her deeply. "Good morning," he replied.

She smiled at him slowly. His body answered her in sudden arousal, and his heart began to beat faster. His mouth moved away from hers and dropped down to the spot where her neck and shoulder merged together. He delighted in her sharp intake of breath, and moved lower still.

A knock sounded on the door downstairs. He ignored it, and continued to move his lips slowly down her body in soft, languid kisses.

It sounded again, more sharply this time. "Damn!" he muttered.

She giggled softly. "Don't answer it," she said as she slid her fingers through his hair."

He ignored the visitor until he heard the fist pound on the door one more time. He heaved a frustrated sigh, and rose from the bed. "Perhaps it's that minion of Barnabas Collins', come to see just how much trouble he's going to be in," he said as he pulled on his shorts and found a pair of pajamas in a bureau drawer. He threw them on quickly and went downstairs. Still seething with irritation, he threw open the door and found himself staring into the face of Sheriff Patterson.

"Good morning, Mr. Blair," he said. "May I come in?"

His eyes widened in alarm. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to know….I've just come from the Old House, and it seems that Miss Evans has disappeared again."

"Oh?" Nicholas maintained a neutral expression.

"I dropped by there this morning to see how she was, and to get a statement from her. Willie Loomis danced around the issue for about twenty minutes before he finally confessed that she wasn't there. I didn't talk to Collins…..it seems that he was -- indisposed." He regarded Nicholas for a moment. "May I come in?" he repeated.

"Oh! Yes…yes of course." Nicholas stood back to let him enter.

Patterson removed his hat as he stepped through the door. He walked into the living room and sat down, looking around with mild distaste. Perhaps if Miss Evans ever DID come back, she could improve upon Blair's tendency toward near-Rococo over decoration.

"Blair, I know you were very unhappy about leaving her there last night….I don't suppose you had anything to do with her second disappearance, did you?" He looked at Nicholas levelly.

"Nothing whatsoever," he lied smoothly. "But she IS here. She returned early this morning."

"Really?" Patterson's eyebrows shot up in a clear, 'tell me more' look.

"It was nearly dawn when she returned….and you can imagine how I felt when I saw her, sheriff. She ran all the way here." The frown lines in Nicholas' forehead deepened. "She told me that she had to get away from the Old House -- it seems that Collins managed to frighten her horribly."

Patterson stared at him. He hadn't trusted Nicholas Blair from the first day he'd laid eyes on him, but he'd had just as many suspicions about Barnabas Collins. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that there was something funny about this entire story, and that somehow both Collins and Blair were up to their eyeballs in intrigue. He'd have to keep a watchful eye on the both of them. "How odd," he said lightly. "And only last night, she was desperately afraid of YOU."

"I think it's safe to assume at this juncture that Collins was lying about that, Sheriff," said Nicholas. I told you he was," he continued in a slightly accusatory tone.

Patterson let the comment slide. "May I talk to the young lady for a moment?" he asked. "It's really HER statement I need, not yours."

"Can't it wait?" Nicholas asked impatiently. "I promise that I will bring her to the station this afternoon to fill out whatever paperwork you require, but she's been through quite an ordeal….and she's still sleeping right now. I don't want to wake her."

Sheriff Patterson rose. He didn't believe this whole cockamamie story, but he had nothing to base his suspicions on except a growing dislike of Nicholas Blair. "Very well, Mr. Blair," he said. "We'll expect you both this afternoon, then."

Nicholas saw him out and then turned to hurry back upstairs. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the living room as the air suddenly grew chill, and a familiar image began to take shape before him.

"Good morning, Nicholas!" the figure said jovially. "I thought I'd drop in to see how you're enjoying your….reward."

Nicholas glowered at him. "What's the catch?"

"Why Nicholas!" Diabolos laughed. "You sound suspicious."

"I am."

"Your recent bit of ruthlessness entitled you to a bonus….and if you're going to keep on with this reprehensible business of falling victim to your emotions, well…you might as well have the woman you really want." He sighed. "And here you are...complaining already, I see."

"I'm not complaining at all. When I think of it, though, it does beg the question ….why?"

His master smiled. "This business of letting you fall in love has high entertainment value ….especially with HER, it seems. So….I gave her back to you."

"So it's my job to amuse you, then. Do you intend to wait and surprise me with your latest torment, or can you just tell me now? OR….is there a trail of bread crumbs I should follow to the revelation of whatever plot you've got in mind?"

"Is there NO pleasing you?" Diabolos began to sound exasperated.

"Your generosity wasn't propelled by the goodness of your heart. We both know you haven't got one," Nicholas said flatly. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Diabolos. "Which, of course, leaves a much more insidious motive at hand."

The figure grinned at him. "Very well, Nicholas - I believe I WILL tell you. The scene for our next diversion has already been set by you yourself! Barnabas Collins is a vampire again….your ingenious punishment has ensured that he IS now what she wanted in the first place."

"She loves ME," Nicholas declared.

"And you love her. And HE loves her….and she loved HIM before you came along…..how do you know she won't change her mind again, Nicholas? He has his powers back…..he could make her change it, you know. He is once again that violent yet sensual creature from 1795 with whom she was so smitten."

Nicholas' face darkened. "BEFORE she fell in love with ME," he insisted. "And I've got powers of my own….I won't let him have her."

"It may be something beyond your control, Nicholas. In any case….it will certainly be worth watching. And rest assured, Nicholas…..I WILL be watching." His deep laughter echoed as he slowly faded into nothingness. Nicholas noticed that the chill remained in the room even after the image of Diabolos had completely disappeared.

Rage began to course through his veins….Josette was HIS. He stared up the length of the staircase, his eyes blazing and his mouth set in determination. He'd fought Barnabas Collins for her once already…..he'd fight him again if he had to, but the son of a bitch wasn't taking her away…..no matter what.

2 - Revelations

The image of Diabolos had evaporated, but Nicholas still shook with anger as he stood at the foot of the staircase. He walked slowly back into the living room, and stared out the window toward the ocean. The tide was coming in, and the surf pounded violently against the rocks that littered the beach below.

Would there ever be a means of escape, he wondered? No….of course not, he sighed. He deliberated the high price of selling one's soul into the service of Hell. Centuries before, he had been warned about what he would have to surrender for eternity to become what he was….a tide that would not be turned, he thought, as he saw the allegory of his own life in the rushing waves before him.

What he had not considered at the time was the possibility that he might ever again care -- and then, after so many years of wandering in and out of the empirical realm, carrying out the work and wishes of Diabolos without any thought or concern for roots or lasting attachments, his human life had suddenly presented him with two opportunities to care very much. First Maggie and then Josette -- both of them seized with a passion that would not be denied.

He had fallen in love with Maggie at the very instant he saw her, as they stood in the Collinwood foyer that afternoon not so very long ago. As their had eyes met and her innocent gaze had fallen upon him, he'd found that two enormous brown eyes set in a gentle face had been enough to pierce a heart thought to be wrapped in steel. He had cloaked himself in denial, however…..thinking only that he had to take her, as he had always done whenever a woman excited him, to be rid of the spell she had cast upon his spirit. But his plan had backfired…..as had so many others. He had found himself becoming more human -- more vulnerable -- and far less cognizant than he should have been of the danger around him and the imminent treachery of Angelique. From there it had been a race against time…..but at the moment that he had truly understood his degree of helplessness, it was too late…..he had been convinced that he would be taken away….that he would lose Maggie forever.

But, as usual with Diabolos, surprises awaited…..he had been allowed to go on with her…..and several weeks passed without incident.

And then the blow fell. She had been spirited away one night on her way to the House By The Sea, and resurrected as Josette DuPres'….he had found her standing atop Widow's Hill and waiting forlornly for Barnabas Collins…..the man she had been in love with for 173 years.

He had refused to surrender her, however…..for as long as he could still find the thinnest veneer of Maggie, he couldn't let her go. He had to have her…and had used his powers to take her. He'd forced her to respond to him and she had hated him for it. And then, suddenly…..something began to change -- for both of them, although he didn't know that until later. When Josette had finally escaped from him, he'd almost made up his mind to let her go….and then a taunting Diabolos had goaded him into finding her once more. He had used Willie Loomis to tell him the secret of the old passageway, and where the hidden door to her room at the Old House was….and he had entered quietly to find her sitting at the small dressing table, sad of countenance and lost in thought. Then she had turned and seen him…..and rushed into his arms. And he had known at that moment that she wanted HIM….and that it was HER he truly desired.

They had escaped through the passageway, but a violently angry Barnabas Collins had found them out. He'd caught up to them on Widow's Hill and killed her, and Nicholas had sworn revenge as he watched her die. A death for a death -- he had headed for town immediately, to a small cottage where lived a man with scars on his face…..and an unusual link to the erstwhile vampire. Nicholas had used his powers one more time to suffocate the man…..constricting his windpipe until he finally died of asphyxiation. And at dawn the next morning, Barnabas Collins had made the cruel discovery of just what happened when one made a lasting enemy of Nicholas Blair.

And now, as Nicholas wandered back into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs, the words of Diabolos returned to haunt him. He is once again that violent yet sensual creature from 1795 with whom she was so smitten, he had said.

The threat of Barnabas Collins stimulated his yearning for her. He didn't give a damn who was watching, he thought to himself, as he quickly ascended the steps and strode back into the master bedroom.

She had fallen back asleep, lying amid the tangle of blankets. He stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, regarding the slight flush to her skin and the small smile that still rested lightly on her lips……the way her hair fanned out over the pillows, and her gentle breathing as her chest rose and fell. Then he tore off his clothing and slid between the covers, reaching out to touch her warmth.

She stirred as she felt his hands upon her, and without opening her eyes, she moved into his embrace and pressed her lips to his. She ran her hands slowly through his hair and softly kneaded the back of his neck as they kissed. Then, she traced her fingers the distance of her reach over him in slow, seductive caresses. Intoxicated by her touch, a fireball of hunger for her flared within him. He fought to control his turbulent emotions….fought to hold himself back, to resist the compulsion to plunge into her immediately, branding her as his own with the fluids of his desire.

Once again, he moved his mouth away from hers and whispered softly in her ear. "Suppose you tell me just WHERE we left off upon being interrupted?" He smiled languidly, but his eyes were hot as they met hers once more.

"I think you had moved much further from my ear than this, mon cher," she giggled.

"Oh? Refresh my memory….." He moved down and nuzzled her neck.

"I would have felt your breath as you whispered, but I would never have been able to hear you," she murmured as she traced her fingers over his cheekbone. Then she gasped his name, and her breath quickened as he moved downward and ran his tongue slowly over the spot in her throat where her vein pulsed.

"There?" he inquired, smiling wickedly. He began to nibble softly at the delicate skin, knowing her passion for this particular act. He almost wished he could enslave her with an actual reenactment of what she craved, but at least he could be satisfied with the intense pleasure even this brought her. She moaned softly and pressed against him, and then reached up and pulled him closer.

After a few moments, he began to move his lips down the length of her body. Delaying his own pleasure, he ran his tongue along the inside of her thigh and then moved up between her legs, probing between the folds of soft skin and tasting the wetness of her desire.

"Or maybe….there?" he asked again.

"Oh, yes…." she breathed, as she began to writhe beneath the firm caresses. His tongue explored deeper, and with more urgency, and after a few moments she cried out for him to finish. His discipline vanished. He couldn't wait any longer. He rose, and she pulled him up eagerly. As he poised his body over hers, she reached for his hardened manhood and guided him into her. His breath caught as he plunged into her….once again, he marveled at how their movements seemed to magically synchronize almost at once.

His lips found hers as they moved faster and faster, a steady cadence in the midst of a rising tempest. Seized by a crushing madness, the feelings that rushed through their bodies overwhelmed them. They could feel the sensations coursing through the fibers of their skin, every vibration striking at their very core. She cried out as her body was suddenly rocked by the intense spasms of her orgasm….and his own followed just seconds afterward as he shouted his love for her.

Amidst the tangled bedding they lay there, still clutching one another in a tight embrace while their breathing slowly quieted.

After awhile, she spoke. "Who WAS at the door, earlier?"

"Oh, just one of Collinsport's finest," he responded quietly, as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck.

She rose up and looked at him, lifting her eyebrows questioningly. "The sheriff?"

"He wants to see you -- in town, this afternoon," he replied. "Damn!" His face darkened.

"What's wrong? Tell me what you told him, Nicholas, and I'll tell him the same thing," she assured him. "Barnabas wouldn't dream of making further inquiries for fear of bringing the inquisitiveness of the sheriff upon himself."

He briefly froze at the mention of Collins, but then reached over and touched her face lightly. "It's not that simple," he said as he gazed at her. "No matter how you look, you're not Maggie Evans, and he'll see -- and hear -- the difference."

"Will he?" she asked. "Nicholas, you and I both know that there will be no resolution until I see him. He'll keep coming here, and pounding on the door until he finds me. We'll go this afternoon like you promised, and get it over with."

Nicholas stared at her in astonishment. All traces of her French accent were gone, and she sounded exactly like Maggie.

He seized her roughly. "Who are you??" he cried. "Are you Josette? Or are you Maggie? Do you have her memories….or Josette's? Tell me!" he urged in a savage whisper.

"I am Josette for you, Nicholas," she murmured, the accent returning. "I will always be Josette for you….but I must be Maggie for everyone else. Her feelings…her psyche.....they occupy a place in my mind….I am NOT her, but I can BE her at will, if I must," she told him. "And if we are to stay here, there will be many times when I must, starting with this afternoon. The sooner we dispense with the sheriff's curiosity, the better for all of us."

Nicholas continued to stare at her, trying to fathom the motive of Diabolos. The feelings of frustration and helplessness he experienced earlier returned to haunt him. It was a game…it was all a game. His survival - and hers - depended solely on his ability to amuse his masters, now….to figure out the lay of the board…to make offensive and defensive plays. He had just learned a secret of ONE of the game pieces…..but what of the others?

3 - Desperate Measures

Late that afternoon, Willie Loomis strode out of the grocery shop on Main Street with a small parcel tucked under his arm...evidence that the food bill had already been reduced, he reflected. He ambled slowly down the street, heading for the Blue Whale and feeling no small amount of irritation mixing with his growing fear. He needed a drink after the horror of daybreak's events at the Old House, he thought. In fact, he needed a lot of drinks.

He shivered slightly as he recalled the image of Barnabas beginning to burn when he faced the morning sun….Willie could still hear his screams of pain and horror as he'd run to assist his former master and helped him hurry down the stairs to the basement where the old coffin still lay. He'd have to start sleeping during the day again, he thought grimly. And the dogs would howl at night…... Willie shivered again at the memory. Even now he could feel the urge to cover his ears creeping up on him.

On his way to town, he'd stopped at Collinwood to tell Julia everything. Her shock had been palpable.

"He killed Josette?" she had cried. "But--WHY??"

Swallowing hard, Willie had recounted the whole story -- about how Josette had run back to Nicholas Blair, and how Barnabas had nearly lost his mind as a result. He couldn't bear the thought of her loving anyone else, Willie had said….he'd shot her, and once again she'd fallen off Widow's Hill, her body dashed on the sharp rocks below.

Julia had bit her lower lip as she listened to the sad tale, and sighed. "But-but….how did he revert?" she asked. "Something must have happened to Adam!"

Willie nodded. "Barnabas, he said that very thing as we was runnin' down the stairs," he said. "He said that Blair must have killed Adam to retaliate."

Both Willie and Julia knew that Nicholas Blair was a very dangerous man. "We'll have to be extremely careful, Willie," she had said. "We know his powers are formidable in any case, and his grief over Josette could be substantial in itself.....but even if he just thought he could eventually get Maggie back, he's likely to be more ruthless than ever before now that he's lost that chance."

"Do you think he'll come after US?" Willie had asked, suddenly struck with fear.

"I don't know," she had replied, pacing the room. "On one hand, he could have easily done us in already….on the other, he would enjoy making us wait and wonder…driving us crazy while we tried to anticipate his attack." She wrung her hands. "I need to talk to Barnabas."

"You know he can't talk till sundown."

"Yes, but I'm going over to the Old House to wait. I'll see you there when you return," she had said and walked into the Collinwood foyer to grab her coat.

He sighed as he remembered their conversation, and admired her loyalty…..largely unappreciated by Barnabas, he thought grudgingly. It was too bad, really….maybe she wasn't so much to look at next to Josette, but Willie thought that Barnabas could do a lot worse than Julia Hoffman. And a blind man could see she was in love with him.

As he walked past the sheriff's office, the door opened suddenly and a woman stepped out, accidentally bumping him. He stared at her, openmouthed….he was dumbstruck. He didn't even notice Nicholas Blair standing in the open doorway.

"J-Josette??" he asked in a trembling voice. She was alive! How could she be alive?

Before she could say anything, Nicholas quickly stepped between them. "Mr. Loomis!" He said, unable to resist a victorious smile. "How nice to see you, but as you can see….we're in a great hurry," he said authoritatively.

"You ain't getting' away with what you did, ya know," Willie blurted out without thinking.

Nicholas turned to stare at him for a moment, his face darkening visibly. He started to reply, but then she suddenly looked at Nicholas with a question in her eyes and before she could say anything he put his arm around her protectively and guided her away, looking over his shoulder one more time to throw a threatening glance back at Willie.

Agape, Willie watched them walk away. He noticed that the sun was nearly setting….he turned and hurried toward the car, knowing that he had to get back to the Old House to tell of this latest wrinkle. He wished that he had time to stop at the Blue Whale, though -- he REALLY needed a drink now.

When they reached the car, Nicholas opened the door for her and waited until she stepped in, and then hurried around to the other side. He glowered as he started the engine while she sat for a moment in silence, nonplussed.

"Nicholas…why are you so upset all of a sudden? What did he mean?"

"When you ran away, I went over there and threatened them," he replied softly. "I'm sure that's what he meant."

"Well so what? We were bound to run into him sooner or later," she said quietly. "And we'll run into Barnabas, too. What does it matter? You know I don't want him anymore….I only want you."

"I don't want either of them anywhere near you," he said stridently.

She reached over and softly touched his arm. "But why? It's not as if they can DO anything….they can't even say anything….who would believe them? Everyone else thinks I'm Maggie Evans, who has been in madly in love with you for months now…..no one will question why we're together." She paused. "Even the sheriff seemed satisfied with our story of a mentally disturbed kidnapper holding me captive on the Collins property. That abandoned gatehouse is a perfect cover."

He drove in silence. She had managed to look sufficiently traumatized by recent events to throw the sheriff off-track. Nicholas had even quickly found and paid some drifter to go in to the abandoned cottage....and he'd left his fingerprints all over everything before Nicholas had gotten rid of him....Patterson wouldn't pose a problem now, but Collins was a different story.

Nicholas knew he would have to tell her about what had happened on Widow's HIll --and what he'd done as a result -- sooner or later but he kept putting it off. The thought of Barnabas Collins as a vampire had been intensely satisfying just hours earlier.....now it called forth a simmering panic in his heart. Could Diabolos have given him a hint of what was to come? She had wanted the vampire before…..would she want him again? Fear still clutched him whenever he thought about it. He wouldn't let her go….he couldn't.

He hit the brakes and spun the car around, heading back into town.

"Nicholas!" she cried, as gravity flung her against the door. "Where are you going? What on earth is the matter with you?" she cried.

"I forgot something." His voice was quiet but she was aware of the menace in his expression and dropped her eyes, sensing immediately that something was very wrong. His simmering rage was obvious, and although she didn't know the reason for it she also sensed a different emotion emanating from him as well….fear.

Moments later, Nicholas pulled up in front of the jewelry shop and turned off the ignition.

"Wait here," he commanded.

Her eyes flashed angrily and she lost her temper over his tone of voice. "Non!" she spat. "Je pas! And if you don't tell me what is wrong right now, I will get out of this car and WALK home."

He seized her roughly and pulled her toward him, her face close to his. "Do as you're told," he hissed through gritted teeth.

She matched him stare for stare and then drew herself up, throwing her shoulders back. "And perhaps I'll stop at the Old House on my way."

His anger exploded and his hand flew back, but within an instant of striking her he suddenly froze and dropped his hand. She was immediately sorry she had taunted him, and reached out to touch his arm once more. He pushed her away and stepped out of the car, walking quickly into the jeweler's shop.

He approached the counter as the proprietor entered from the back. "May I help you, sir?" the jeweler asked.

"Yes…..I want to buy a crucifix." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "A sterling silver crucifix."

"Come right over here, sir, and I'll show you our coll-"

"You don't need to show it to me," said Nicholas, holding his hand up in a gesture to stop.

"Sir?"

"I don't need to see it!" He paused, and then continued in a quiet voice, "Just pick out the nicest sterling silver crucifix you have and wrap it up….and hurry."

"But, sir-"

"Damn it, man! Just do it!!" he shouted. Then he paused and tried to regain his composure. "I'll make it well worth your while," he continued quietly.

The jeweler looked bewildered. "Very well, sir," he replied, shaking his head. He walked over and looked over his stock for a moment, then opened the glass case and selected a beautifully designed sterling silver cross on a matching chain.

"Here's a pretty one, sir. It's a bit-"

"Just WRAP it UP." Nicholas gave him a threatening look, and the jeweler hurried to the back room to find a small box. He walked back out a few moments later with the package. Nicholas paid him twice its cost and gingerly picked up the tiny parcel. The jeweler's mouth hung open as Nicholas walked out the door.

As he swung himself back into the car, Nicholas held the box out to her. She faced the window and wouldn't turn around.

"Josette?"

"Leave me alone."

"Josette, please." He reached out and softly touched her hair.

She spun around. "Don't think that giving me presents is going to make up for how you've acted," she replied with a furious pout. "I want to know why you're so angry, and what's more, Nicholas….I want to know why you're afraid. I can tell that you are….there's no plausible reason for you to have acted like that."

He gestured toward the box. "If you open it, I'll tell you," he said quietly.

She slowly unwrapped the package and removed the lid. She gasped when she saw what was inside, and suddenly turned to him with a knowing look. He panicked and reached for her, pulling her close…..and began staring deep into her eyes, touching her face and hypnotizing her with his soft voice as he spoke.

"You must wear this whenever you're not with me, and take it off for no one BUT me. Do you understand, Josette?"

"Her eyes seemed vacant as she returned his narcotic stare, but she spoke in a clear voice. "I understand, Nicholas," she said quietly.

He took her face in his hands. "You are not EVER to remove it for Barnabas Collins," he said firmly. "Tell me you will never remove for Barnabas Collins," he said urgently.

"I will never remove it for Barnabas Collins," she repeated.

"Who is the only person for whom you will remove the crucifix, Josette?" he asked.

She gazed up into his dark eyes. "I will only remove it for you, Nicholas. No one else."

Without looking at it, he took the box from her hands and put it in the back seat. Then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

Am I forgiven?" he asked, as he placed his hand on her forehead.

"After a moment, she gave him a lazy smile and pulled him toward her once more.

The sun had just dropped out of sight as Willie opened the front door to the Old House and ran inside. He dropped the parcel in the foyer.

"Julia!" he called. "Julia, where's Barnabas?"

She and Barnabas rose from their chairs as he hurried into the drawing room. "Willie, what's the matter?"

"She's alive!" he cried.

They looked mystified. "Who?" they asked in unison.

"Josette! Or Maggie, whoever she is…."

"That's impossible!" they both gasped.

"It's true. I was standing THIS far away from her." He extended his arm about a foot. "I don't know what happened, Barnabas...you said you saw her fall from the cliffs….."

"I did." Barnabas looked bewildered. "Blair was struggling to hold onto her hand, and it slowly slipped from his….I heard her screams…..I watched her fall."

"Well something brought her back, Barnabas. Blair must be a lot more powerful that we thought, because the two of them was walking out of the sheriff's office this afternoon. "

"The sheriff's office??" Barnabas looked perplexed.

"The sheriff come by here this morning, Barnabas," Willie said tentatively. "I - I tried to stall him, to put him off…but he wanted to see her to get a statement. I finally had to tell him that she wasn't here….that she ran away."

"He must have gone from here to Nicholas Blair's house to tell him," Julia mused. "And Nicholas must have felt compelled to confess her presence there for some reason….he would not have taken her to see Patterson if he could have avoided it."

"Maybe she ain't Josette no more," Willie suggested. "Maybe she's Maggie Evans again."

"She WAS Josette. She knew things that only Josette would know. She will always BE Josette to me now," Barnabas avowed. "I can never see her as Maggie Evans again.

"Did you hear her speak?" asked Julia.

"No," Willie replied. "He hustled her away before she could even open her mouth. But you shoulda seen the look on his face, Barnabas."

"Triumphant….at least to some extent, I should imagine," said Julia. "Josette had fallen in love with him, too…..he wins in either case."

"NO!!" shouted Barnabas. "I cannot bear the thought of her with Blair. I won't permit it."

"Wait a minute, Barnabas….he DID look pretty happy at first," Willie admitted, "but then I said something, and his face changed."

"What did you say?"

"I told him he wasn't gettin' away with what he done. I said it without thinking, Barnabas....I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have. But then he looked angry all of a sudden-like. Angry......and scared."

"Scared?" Barnabas considered that disclosure for a moment. "Julia is right, then….the two of them wouldn't have paid a visit to the sheriff if Blair could have avoided having to make some sort of explanation. For some reason…something that must be connected to his power -- or even his existence -- he has to remain HERE, in Collinsport. If he didn't, he'd have taken her and left already….he wouldn't risk them staying here, with me as I am now, unless he had to. He knows as well as I do that close proximity to me leaves them vulnerable to attack." He paused again for a moment. "So….we know he can't leave." He walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. "I won't let him have her. Something will have to be done."

"What will you do?" Julia asked cautiously.

"She wanted me as I was….now I AM as I was," he said quietly. "And she shall be joining me……very soon."

4 - Facsimile of the Darkness

Maggie Evans. Something just wasn't quite right, he sighed. Not right at all. All the pieces SEEMED to fit -- his man had just reported back that the shack on the Collins property had two sets of fingerprints all over it, and they'd taken samples….and yet, Patterson instinctively felt that something was wrong with the entire narrative, and his suspicions immediately fell upon Nicholas Blair and Barnabas Collins. He remembered the night when she had suddenly shown up at the Old House, and he and Blair had gone to get her. As Collins had briefly relayed the details of her arrival on his doorstep, Patterson had immediately noted the antagonism between Collins and Blair…..he hadn't quite understood it but there it had been, plain as day. Collins seemed to be enjoying the upper hand, and Blair had evinced impotent frustration….and Patterson had found his seeming lack of power over the situation pretty damn strange...whatever else one could say about Nicholas Blair, the man was typically in control of every conceivable circumstance.

He knew he had no overt reason to suspect Blair….he and Maggie had been seeing one another for awhile now, and it was no secret that they cared a great deal for one another, but minute details like that baffled him. He also found it peculiar that Blair had been so quiet that week she was missing, especially after shifting his pound of flesh so aggressively that first night, vociferously insisting that Patterson drop everything to run to Blair House and fill out a missing persons report. Patterson's experience with Blair, for the most part, would seem to suggest that he would have been on the phone day and night making sure that the sheriff's officers were "doing their job"….and Patterson would have sworn that Blair would have been in his office constantly, until the moment she was found, acting as overseer.

Patterson had also long suspected Barnabas Collins of serious misdeeds involving Maggie Evans, although no proof had ever been found. He still remembered when she had been discovered missing the year before….and for a lot longer than a week.

Her father had finally found her lying on the ground unconscious, near the beach, and not far from the Old House. She'd had trouble talking about what had happened, but when Patterson had first questioned her, and the name of Barnabas Collins had been mentioned, the terror in her eyes had been palpable……and she'd begun to scream. He'd had to leave off his questioning, and when he came back to her several days later, all conscious memory of the events that had taken place during the time she'd been missing had somehow been wiped from her memory. The mention of Barnabas Collins brought only a look of friendly, but fairly disinterested, recognition.

Patterson shook his head. SOMETHING was sure as hell going on, he thought grimly. He'd have to keep an eye on the situation -- even in an "unauthorized" capacity.

Josette walked into the living room of Blair House and sat down, waiting for Nicholas. He'd gone back to town - in his earlier fit of temper, he'd forgotten to get firewood and the evenings in Collinsport had turned chilly. She sighed, and as she picked up the little case containing the crucifix she found herself wondering again what had come over him that afternoon.

It was such an odd gift, she thought, as she opened the box. She knew what Nicholas was - warlocks typically didn't purchase religious objects. Why would he be buying such a trinket, she wondered? Did it have something to do with Barnabas? He got so agitated whenever his name was mentioned…she understood his earlier fear, BEFORE she had come back to him willingly, but there was no reason for it now. Yet a single statement had rooted itself in her mind…she was never to remove the cross for Barnabas Collins. Had Nicholas found a reason to fear him again? She sighed in frustration. She loved him, but there was so much about him that she didn't know……and motives that she couldn't fathom.

Suddenly, something Barnabas had said while she was at the Old House flashed through her mind. "An experiment, Josette….another man lives because of a life force I was able to give him….and WITH that life force went the curse of the vampire…..for as long as the other man lives, I can live as a normal man, too."

She sat up with a start. Had something happened to that man? The words that Willie had uttered that afternoon crept through her mind, too…."You ain't gettin' away with what you did," he'd said. Nicholas had done something….but WHY??? Why would he bring about such a situation? She was here, with HIM - she loved HIM. What had happened?

Suddenly, she removed the crucifix from the box and fastened it around her neck. She'd almost forgotten that she'd promised Nicholas she'd put in on while he was gone. It WAS pretty, she thought….she hadn't worn one since she'd left Martinique. Barnabas' family had been New England Protestants with no liking for Catholic items of worship….Josette still remembered how offended Joshua Collins had been at the sight of her rosary.

The front door suddenly blew open, and she rose quickly, startled and a little frightened. She ran into the hall to find silhouette of Barnabas Collins filling the doorway.

His eyes glowed in the dimness as they bored into hers. It WAS her, he thought....fate had given him another chance, he thought joyfully. He'd take her this time, he vowed…he'd take her the way she wanted. With passion…and the same muted violence they'd shared in their desperate love nearly 175 years ago. In just a day he'd grown stronger….AND more savage. He wouldn't lose her again.

She just stood there, still as marble and unable to move. He entered the room slowly and closed the door. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly as he saw the wild look in her eyes. He approached her slowly, his hand reaching out to her.

She reached up and touched the cross around her neck. He cried out and turned away when he saw it.

"Take that off!" he shouted angrily.

"No," she replied firmly. "I cannot remove the cross, Barnabas. I promised Nicholas."

"Josette!" he cried with longing. "You KNOW you've always wanted to be with me…..you waited for me to come for you, remember? All that time, you waited for the vampire to come to you….it was what you wanted. I am here, Josette. I have become the vampire again."

She took a step back. He couldn't touch her so long as she wore the crucifix. "It's too late, Barnabas."

Before he could answer her, the door burst open again. Nicholas' face darkened with fury as he saw Collins in the foyer.

"Get out!" he shouted violently, rushing to her side.

Barnabas glared menacingly at Nicholas. "You'll pay for what you've done to me, Blair," he said fiercely.

Even in his rage, Nicholas couldn't help mocking him. His eyes gleamed as he spoke. "She will never remove this cross for you. She will never remove it for ANYONE….except me. You'll never get close to her again, Collins. NEVER," he swore savagely. "You can stand there and look, if you like….you can even peer in our windows and watch her writhing in MY arms while I'm making love to her….and you can go crazy thinking about how close it came to being YOU….but you will NEVER touch her again." The cross around her neck was all that prevented him from pulling her into his arms protectively, but he did reach for her hand as he spoke.

Barnabas nearly lost control. The mere thought of her in Blair's arms drove him to a blinding fury.

"The last time you ever rest your eyes on Josette, Nicholas Blair….will be when she's lying in MY arms," Barnabas swore solemnly. He glared at both of them once more, then turned and strode out the door. It slammed behind him.

Nicholas still breathed heavily in his rage….he turned toward her and his eyes found hers. She slowly reached up and removed the crucifix, dropping it on the nearby table. In one swift and smooth stride, he moved toward her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her lips in his neck and held onto him tightly. After a few moments, she spoke.

"Nicholas," she murmured softly. "Please tell me what happened."

He nodded slowly. "Let's go upstairs." They started to walk toward the staircase. "Don't forget the cross," he said quietly.

She went back and picked it up, then began to follow him up the staircase. He stopped midway and turned back, sweeping her up into his embrace, and carrying her the rest of the way.

The next morning, Nicholas sat in the living room, brooding. Josette was still upstairs, snuggled in the tangle of covers on their bed. They'd talked throughout the night….and he'd finally told her about what had really happened as they'd walked over Widow's Hill.

She had been aghast. "But how am I alive, then?" she'd asked, mystified. "How did I get back?"

He'd confessed about Diabolos….and the wager that had turned into a game…the game that continued even now. He'd explained how both their lives hung in a fragile balance because he'd surrendered to the emotion of love…..first with Maggie Evans….and now with her.

She had reached up and touched his face softly. "Then I'm the catalyst for his tormenting you, aren't I? Your life could be normal if I weren't here?' she had asked.

Alarmed at her words, he had seized her roughly, kissing her with a passion that was almost frantic. When he drew back he stared deeply into her eyes. "Normal," he whispered, "but hardly worth living." Then his lips had found hers and once again, their desire for each other had surged out of control.

Now, as he remembered the heat of their embraces, the simmering fear that Barnabas Collins might put her under his control recaptured him. At least with the sun came a respite….he didn't have to worry about the son of a bitch showing up in the daytime.

The sound of familiar, mocking laughter interrupted his reverie. He looked up to see the image of Diabolos grinning at him.

"How does it feel to have even odds in a fight, Nicholas?" he asked insolently. "Are you enjoying this as much as your OTHER human sensations?"

Nicholas glowered at him. "HOW do you arrive at the conclusion that the odds are in ANY way matched??" he responded. "Is it the fact that "I" can't touch her EITHER, as long as she's wearing that damned cross around her neck?"

Diabolos stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That WAS a rare burst of intelligence on your part, Nicholas….I shouldn't have thought you'd have the nerve to buy a crucifix. I nearly forgave you ALL your recent silliness just for the pleasure of viewing that little scene in the jewelry shop," he commented lightly.

"For all the good it does," Nicholas replied sarcastically. "There's nothing like walking up behind someone and kissing them on the neck, only to find that your lips are within millimeters of bursting into flames."

"So far it's done what you intended…she's still in YOUR bed, not his, and I couldn't help but notice that she doesn't wear it ALL the time." He paused. "Collins knows he's in for a serious fight for her….so far, she WANTS to be with you."

"Are you going to fuck with THAT, too?"

"I don't NEED to "fuck" with that, Nicholas….you've "fucked" with things enough as it is. The resulting fallout should entertain us for days….weeks, maybe. And since when has your impressive vocabulary shrunk to piddling vulgarities? Really, you used to be much more effective at expressing yourself, too."

"Quit changing the subject. I need to know how I can fight him."

"You expect ME to tell you? We have an ongoing wager, Nicholas. You can keep her for as long as you continue to amuse me….the deal doesn't include my giving away precisely HOW that is to be accomplished."

"Damn it!" Nicholas exploded. "What do I have to fight WITH? My powers cannot control a vampire! You've set me up to lose her. It's the punishment you have in store for me….taunting me like this -- and driving me insane -- is much more fun than just burning me up, isn't it?"

Diabolos finally looked angry. "It IS part of your punishment that you should be AFRAID of losing her….the duration of your fear IS what I control. It's the price you pay, Nicholas, for succumbing to human emotion." He paused once again for a moment. "However," he continued quietly, "I've decided that there IS a way to put you and Mr. Collins on a more even footing. Prepare to be assimilated!" he shouted.

Nicholas stepped back in horror….and suddenly his body was engulfed in flames. The image of Diabolos watched for a moment and then slowly faded.

Standing in the dusky gloom that enveloped Blair House, Nicholas breathed deeply, still trying to adjust to the new powers of his mind….and the new impulses of his body.

As soon as the sun had fallen below the hills, his eyes had opened and he'd pressed open the lid of the coffin….looking around, he'd noted immediately how his vision had changed -- suddenly he could see everything as clearly as if it were day. Alarm had seized him….he was in a dark cellar....and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. His last recollection had been of his combative discussion with Diabolos….and then everything had gone black.

At first, cold dread had filled him as he'd stepped from the coffin. What had he done? What had happened to him??? Then he knew. He'd been furious, at first….when he'd demanded a fighting chance from Diabolos, this hadn't been what he'd imagined. He'd paced a little in frustration….how long would this go on, he wondered? Why should it be decreed that he couldn't be left alone to be happy? He'd been given a wide range of emotions to feel in his human incarnation -- good AND bad - and with both Maggie and Josette, he'd experienced joy and pain well off the ordinary scale…but was to endure forever a life of excruciating highs and lows?

Then, however, his entrepreneurial mind took over….and he began to see the advantages of his new form. He knew of the craving that had, for nearly two centuries, rested within Josette's very soul….she wanted a vampire….he WAS a vampire. He'd have to get to her immediately, though, before Barnabas Collins made another attempt to get her first.

The initial craving for blood had been overwhelming, and he didn't dare see Josette until the savagery of his new appetites had cooled…he needed only to control her, at this point. They'd talk about eternity later.

He'd hurried to the docks in town, in search of a lone female whose pulsing arteries would provide the nectar to satisfy him. The girl he had chosen was nameless….and faceless, except that she had dark hair and dark eyes. As she had sauntered by, he had leaped from the shadows and grabbed her, covering her mouth before she could scream and pulling her back into the darkness of the alley.

He reflected back now on the primal enjoyment….driving his fangs into her neck and sucking her life's blood from her, enjoying a satisfaction such as he had never known -- a pleasure heretofore unrecognized. Reaching up to cup her breast, and rubbing his thumb lightly over her nipple, noticeable now under the light fabric of her tank top. She'd moaned as she responded to the erotic pleasure of the vampire bite, in tandem with his touch…..and he had grabbed her hand, eagerly shoving it toward the front of his pants. He remembered her sliding down the zipper, almost in slow motion…and her fingers moving inside, reaching for him…and then wrapping around him. He'd gasped as she began to move her fingers over him, slowly at first which merely inflamed his need, and then with increasing tempo. His own fingers slid quickly inside her panties, and she drew in her breath sharply as he found the spot and began rubbing it hard as he continued to draw the blood from her body. In less than a minute, she shrieked as she came and her own hand moved faster and faster over his tumescence in circular motions, and he had sucked even harder on her neck as his own pleasure reached a crescendo….he had groaned loudly and he wrenched his teeth out of her throat, and she had slumped to the ground as he released her. He had ripped off her tank top and used it to clean the blood from his mouth….then he had dropped it onto her body and strode away. He was sated for the moment. Then he'd taken flight to the House By The Sea, propelled by his urgent need to see Josette.

Now he was here, standing by the shadowy doorway…he knew what he had to do. There was only one way he could keep Barnabas Collins away from her, but he had to hurry. Until now, making love to her had been his metaphorical stamp of possession, but now there was another - and it was the only one that could guarantee she'd never leave him.

5 - Necessity Knows No Law

In their bedroom, Josette sat on the cushioned seat at her vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Once again, tears welled up in her eyes, as they had every few moments since late that afternoon when he still hadn't returned. At first, she hadn't worried when she'd awakened and found him gone ….he hadn't left a note, so he wouldn't be gone long, she'd assured herself. Re-clasping the crucifix around her neck, she'd waited…and waited. By early that afternoon, she had begun to worry....by early evening, she'd become genuinely afraid.

Where could he be, she wondered? He'd never left her without word, and never for this long. What had happened? Now that he had finally explained his fears to her, she better understood their precarious existence and her apprehension grew as she wondered if Diabolos had regretted his decision to let them be together and interfered once more, this time taking HIM away from HER.

The shutters covering the open window flew outward and a chill wind filled the air….startled, she cried out in fear. Frozen for a moment, she watched the candles she had lit flicker wildly in the cold breeze that swept the room. Only the wind, she thought with relief. Only the wind. She rose and walked over to pull the shutters closed, but then peered around the room uneasily as a prickly feeling gnawed at her spine. Seeing nothing, however, she returned to the vanity and sat back down. She picked up her brush and began running it through her hair slowly, all the while feeling a growing discomfort. She could see nothing behind her as she glanced periodically into the mirror, and yet she couldn't rid herself of the sense of another nearby. She softly touched the crucifix at her neck.

He stood in the darkened corner, wishing only to gaze at her for a moment without interruption….he could feel the excitement building in his loins as he watched her run the brush slowly through her silky hair. He wanted to reach out and touch it….to bury his lips in it…..and to run his hands all over her body, making her shiver with desire. His fever for her emanated across the room....

And finally, she turned. Her eyes met his in the dimness, and she let out a sharp cry. Dropping the hairbrush, she yanked the crucifix from her neck and ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace.

"Nicholas!" she cried. "Where were you?? I've been so worried…" she asked breathlessly, covering his face with kisses as she spoke.

"Sshhh….," he whispered into her ear, as he held her tighter. He reached down and picked her up, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently and untied the silk wrapper that she wore. It fell away, revealing her lithe body....she shrugged it off impatiently. He then began wrenching off his own clothes…..already aroused, hot desire flooded him as it always did whenever their bodies were close. He dropped down to his knees on the bed and leaned over her, running his fingers over her hardened nipples…..she shivered from the exhilaration of his touch on her skin, and moaned softly as he lay down beside her and reached down to move his long, slender fingers slowly up her thighs. She parted them as his hand found and caressed that sensitive spot between, exciting a wild craving in her body and making her cry out…. his fingers continued to tease her, going in circular motions….moving fast, then slow…and his tongue reached down to trace the same circles over her erect nipples. Her breath grew ragged as she reached for his hard cock…..sensing what she wanted, he moved just out of reach.

"I want to feel you inside me," she moaned softly, but his fingers were unrelenting, and he continued to run his tongue over her nipples. Her body began to twist beneath his caresses, and within minutes he had driven her to a crushing climax.

She lay there feeling the labored motion of her chest rising and falling as he rose slightly, and poised himself above her body. She reached for him eagerly, pulling him toward her, her lips touching his feverishly. His senses were more acute now than ever, and he could feel the heat emanating from her loins. It excited him unbearably, and his composure vanished as his aching need to feel his shaft enveloped by her warmth surged out of control. He hovered over her for a moment, then thrust his hardened manhood into her with a low cry. She gasped, and moaned with pleasure as he began moving in a steady rhythm. His firm thrusts filled her, and her hips began to move in unison with his own….the heat swelled around his throbbing member and he tried to push himself deeper inside of her, then deeper still….she pressed her lips to his once more as the pace of his strokes moved faster and faster….

His eyes closed and he could see exploding stars in the blackness….he thought he might come any minute as he tore his lips from hers and his fangs distended, hovering over her neck. He plunged them downward, piercing the soft skin -- she screamed as feelings of undiluted erotic pleasure coursed through her as he drank.

"Nicholas!" she cried, as her body arched toward him one last time. She tasted of jasmine and he groaned as his own pleasure swelled into a violent orgasm, his hot fluid shooting into her and melting with her own.

He slowly removed his fangs and collapsed over her body. Then he kissed her neck gently, savoring her warmth as he lay in her arms.

As their breathing slowly quieted, she ran her fingers through his hair and touched his face as she whispered, "Nicholas, what happened?"

He was startled by the fear in her eyes. "Diabolos," he replied softly, and told her what had happened that morning.

"He did THIS to you???" she asked incredulously.

He nodded grimly.

"So, the game continues…" she murmured forlornly, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him even closer. "He'll never leave us alone, will he Nicholas?" she asked, her anxiety showing plainly.

"It will be all right," he reassured her, kissing her forehead and brushing back her hair. "You're truly MINE, now….Barnabas Collins won't touch you."

"You don't know that, Nicholas. He won't give up that easily….especially not now," she said quietly.

"I've already placed you under my control…..he CAN'T touch you now," he asserted.

"Nicholas…" She paused for a moment as she rose up again and gazed at him. "Nicolas, he'll think he has a prior claim."

"You're to keep wearing the crucifix, then," he said, concern suddenly filling his eyes. "Josette….it will work out!" He clasped her to him even tighter. "It will! We both know that Diabolos can UNDO what he's done….but if he doesn't -- if I have to stay a vampire, then you can join me….you can still be with me always!" He paused. "Josette, no one can keep us apart….no one!" he whispered savagely. "I'll never let you go."

She held him even tighter, silently praying that he was right as a tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

A thin mist clung to the wharf area, giving an ethereal appearance to the flashing red lights atop the squad car and the ambulance. Sheriff Patterson looked on grimly as his men zipped up the vinyl bag which now contained the body of a young woman…..one of the docks prostitutes that frequented the area, even on chilly nights like this. After a few moments, the coroner approached with one of Patterson's deputies.

"Well, Henry?" the sheriff asked.

Henry Porter looked at him and shook his head. "I'm sorry, George," he said quietly. "I wish I could tell you what the hell did this….it looks like an animal bite, but it's the strangest damn thing I've ever seen. Two puncture wounds in the side of the neck, perfectly matched in size…perfectly matched in depth. It's like somebody took a drill bit to her."

His deputy spoke up. "Sheriff, they looked an awful lot like those bite marks that were found on some of the women in town about a year ago…remember?"

Patterson froze. He certainly DID remember. A dozen women attacked in a three month period -- all with bite marks exactly one and one half inches apart and a half-inch deep….and a quarter-inch in diameter. Every single one exactly the same. He'd let the story persist that they were animal attacks, since he didn't know of any other way to explain it….but he knew that no animal could ever have been that precise. Wolves had fangs like that, he thought….but a wolf would have torn the skin and made much more of a mess of things. The women were missing a lot of blood....and yet there was remarkably little blood on or near any of the victims.

Patterson also suddenly remembered that Maggie Evans had been a victim of the bites just before she'd disappeared last year. Sam Evans and Doc Woodard had contacted him about the puncture wounds and he'd gone over to take a look. Then -- that night -- she'd vanished, and wasn't seen until weeks later when she turned up near the beach, half naked and delirious. Because of her reaction when he'd mentioned Barnabas Collins, he'd done some checking and found that all the attacks started around the same time that Barnabas Collins had come to town. He'd kept an eye on Collins, but had never been able to pin him down….he was either innocent, or too well protected. Then, suddenly, the attacks had stopped, about nine months before…..stopped as abruptly as they'd started, and without his being able to tie Collins to anything….but his suspicions had never gone away.

The sound of Henry Porter's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Wait a minute…..you mean this has happened before?" Porter asked.

Patterson nodded. "Started about a year ago…..same bite marks. This is the first death, though. But the other attacks fit the same mold….they were all on young woman, some prostitutes….some runaways. All found dazed and incoherent from blood loss, but with no real memory of what had happened to them." He paused. "Henry? What size were the puncture wounds?"

"One and a half inches apart, quarter inch diameter….half an inch deep," Porter replied.

"The same as the ones last year. Shit!" He kicked the tire of his patrol car and heaved a great sigh of frustration. "Henry, have you ever even HEARD of anything like this before? Even rumors??"

"Sheriff?" A young man approached quietly and tapped George Patterson on the shoulder. "May I speak with you a moment?"

Annoyed at the interruption, Patterson turned and glared at him. "Who the hell are you?" he asked sharply.

"My name is Evan Tillery….I'm a student at the university. My studies involve the supernatural and paranormal, and I'm here doing research on the attacks from last year. I couldn't help but overhear--"

"Research??? Supernatural and paranormal???" Patterson guffawed. "Let me guess……aliens did it."

Even though he was nervous, Evan Tillery matched Patterson's glower with a steady gaze. Aliens would be easier to explain, he thought, but he continued in a steady voice, "Sheriff, I have a theory about what's behind these attacks."

"Oh you do??" Patterson finally gave in to his irritation. "Sonny, I had my top men looking into this last year…..even had a couple of "statie" hot shots come up from Augusta. They went through all the evidence….compared the medical reports…..compared the victim's statements…and I'll be a son of a bitch if NONE of 'em could do better than "animal bite."

"I don't believe they're animal bites," Tillery asserted. "I overheard you talking just a minute ago, and you're right that no animal would leave bites that matched that precisely." He paused. "These aren't isolated attacks, sheriff. I've done a lot of research over the past two years, and the attacks I've documented so far all follow a definite pattern….and I wanted to see if the Collinsport attacks fit the profile." He paused. "They do."

Patterson looked thoughtful for a moment, and Evan Tillery quickly pressed his point. "Sheriff, my theory couldn't be any sillier...or any worse....or lead to any more dead ends that what you've already got."

Patterson pursed his lips together, but nodded slowly. It couldn't hurt to listen to what the boy had to say. He was right on one account, anyway….he sure as hell had nothing to go on right now.

Barnabas sat in the darkness of the Old House drawing room waiting for dawn to break. The blaze in the fireplace cast a warm glow over his face and eliminated his customary pallor, but his skin was like ice…..just like his heart, he thought miserably. What was the point of being awake without her, he thought? What was the point of being alive? At least in his human form, he had looked forward to death some day…..and the hope of joining her somewhere in eternity.

His countenance was grim as he thought of Josette and the confrontation at Blair House the night before. How could she possibly want to remain with Nicholas Blair? Especially now, when he, Barnabas, was again what she'd wanted…..what she'd waited for all those years. Their love had been matchless.....feelings like that didn't just die. They couldn't.

He WOULD have her, he thought. She was HIS…..she had been his since he'd taken her nearly two centuries before, that night at the Collinsport Inn, piercing her neck and her virginity at the same time -- branding her….and making her his. He'd never let her go. She HADN'T forgotten….it was nearly all she talked about when she'd returned. He'd recreate that night for her….he'd recreate it over and over again, if he had to. First, though, he had to get her away from Blair….but how to do that while she wore that damned crucifix?

Then his eyes widened and a tiny smile touched his lips. He stood, suddenly resolute, and shouted, "WILLIE!!!"

Go To: Part 1 | Part 2

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