6: Thing-in-the-Box

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id109.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Stolen Memories"><U><B>1:  Stolen Memories</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id110.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Complex Puzzle"><U><B>2:  A Complex Puzzle</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id111.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Peeling the Onion"><U><B>3:  Peeling the Onion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id112.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Secrets Revealed"><U><B>4:  Secrets Revealed</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id113.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Going Home Again"><U><B>5:  Going Home Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id116.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Challenging the Leviathan"><U><B>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id117.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Circling the Wagons"><U><B>8:  Circling the Wagons</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id118.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Jebs Curse"><U><B>9:  Jeb's Curse</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id119.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Spell of Jealousy"><U><B>10:  Spell of Jealousy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id120.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Carrying the Weight"><U><B>11:  Carrying the Weight</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id121.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: A Fiendish New Year"><U><B>12:  A Fiendish New Year</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id122.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Barnabas Crisis"><U><B>13:  Barnabas' Crisis</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id123.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: Barnabas in Parallel Time"><U><B>14:  Barnabas in Parallel Time</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id124.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: Clues to Disaster"><U><B>15:  Clues to Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: Demons Possession"><U><B>16:  Demon's Possession</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id126.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Breach of Trust"><U><B>17:  Breach of Trust</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id127.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Labyrinth of Emotions"><U><B>18:  Labyrinth of Emotions</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id128.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: The Amanda Dilemma"><U><B>19:  The Amanda Dilemma</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id129.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Ziganas Cure"><U><B>20:  Zigana's Cure</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id130.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="21: The Approaching Storm"><U><B>21:  The Approaching Storm</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id131.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="22: Enigma at Collinwood"><U><B>22:  Enigma at Collinwood</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id132.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="23: Reunion in Hell"><U><B>23:  Reunion in Hell</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id133.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="24: Scattered Through Time"><U><B>24:  Scattered Through Time</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id107.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Alternate Destiny"><U><B>Alternate Destiny</B></U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> Amanda chatted about how surprised she was to be recognized by so many people.  She expressed some sympathy for Carolyn, losing her father in such a tragic manner.  She was still talking generally as they undressed and got into bed.  When Quentin reached for her, however, she put her hands on his arms and pushed him back.  "No, my dear, now I want you to tell me what is <I>really</I> going on around here.  And if you want to get anywhere near me tonight, you'd better start talking-now!"</div> <div> Quentin sighed.  "Where do you want me to start?"</div> <div> "Start with the weird stuff going on here and work your way back to the second wife," Amanda answered, her eyes glittering.</div> <div> Quentin considered.  Either way I'm dead, he thought.  He tried to judge which would make Amanda less angry and decided the weird monsters would be easier to deal with.  He said, "Look, it would be better to go the other way, all right?  It's a long story."</div> <div> "I told you my story," Amanda pointed out.  She got out of the bed and drew on her robe.  She picked up her purse and began rummaging through it.  "Put your robe on and crack the window a little, would you?"</div> <div> "What for?" he asked, bewildered.</div> <div> She turned around, looking unhappy.  "A long story needs something to go with it."  Slowly she opened her hand and showed him a marijuana cigarette.  She gave him a very troubled look.  "I didn't know what you would think of this.  I've seen you drink but not do anything else."  She gave him a pleading look.  "You don't think I'm a junkie, do you?"</div> <div> "Because of <I>one</I> joint?" he asked incredulously.  He burst out laughing.  "Amanda, for God's sake!"  He put his robe on and opened the window one third of the way, letting in the cold air.  At this hour, he doubted anyone would notice the smell of pot burning.</div> <div> "Well, I have more than one," she admitted as he returned to the bed.</div> <div>  "Look, Amanda, I've smoked grass before.  It's not a big deal."</div> <div> She looked very relieved and lit the joint.  "Good," she said.  She plumped up the pillows and settled back, taking a long, slow puff from the joint.  He watched her as she expertly drew the smoke into her lungs, holding it there.  She handed him the cigarette.  "I'm listening," she said as she blew the smoke out.</div> <div> "Well, let me tell you what I did after I left New York," he began.  He'd gone south, to New Orleans first.  He'd heard there were people there who practiced voodoo. He didn't know much about it and wanted to see if there was anyone there who could help him.  It took a while to gain the trust of the community; he was white and the people he wanted to talk to were not.  He was fascinated with the music as well as the voodoo lore.  This music was completely different than the melancholy waltz he'd listened to.  It was lively and had an odd name-ragtime.  He found he could play the tunes on the piano and was delighted.  "I don't know if that was a talent I always had or if it was just a left over residue of an encounter I had with Count Petofi," he explained wryly.  </div> <div> "What are you talking about?" Amanda asked.</div> <div> "Well, after you left, the count played a little trick on me and switched his mind into my body-and it turned out he could play the piano rather well."</div> <div> "He did!" Amanda exclaimed, in a surprising tone of admiration.</div> <div> He wasn't sure he was hearing her right.  "It was a nightmare trying to get people to believe me," he told her.  "I might have been stuck in that old goat's body forever if Barnabas hadn't helped me."</div> <div> Amanda pursed her mouth in a show of sympathy.  "My God, you poor thing.  Thank heavens Barnabas was able to help you."  Well, he thought, maybe I did hear her wrong.</div> <div> He traveled to the islands-Martinique, St. Maarten, the Virgin Islands, the Bahamas, and Barbados.  Because he wasn't afraid to go into the back alleys and mix and mingle, he got along well with the natives.  During the years he spent there, he learned how to cast minor spells.  He didn't learn anything useful about a cure for lycanthropy, but he had a wonderful time.  He decided not to tell Amanda he'd learned a great deal about sexuality from the natives-it was beneficial to them both now, but he had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate hearing about it.  He heard where some of the roots of ragtime began-it had to do with African music.  Here on the islands, he heard the steel bands and calypso music.  All the hotels had pianos he could play on after the musicians left for the evening, and that became one of his habits.  He went to South America as well before making his way back north, drawn back to New Orleans.  Still, there was no cure for him there.</div> <div> He thought he would try the gypsy tribes and went to Europe. Most of the tribes lived in Eastern Europe, and language was a real barrier, especially because the gypsies were suspicious of the <I>gauchos</I> and refused to talk to him about their ways-even when he offered to pay.  He drifted back to different cities in Germany and Austria, Amsterdam, and then to London, seeking out libraries and poring over anything he could get his hands on.  He talked to the gypsies he found in Holland and in England but he found that they didn't trust him either.  While he was in London, he found pianos to play and learned how to fly an airplane.  Duke Ferdinand was assassinated while he was there; on a drunken whim, he joined the RAF when England went to war against Germany.  He met Jamison there midway through the war-Jamison had also joined the RAF on a whim and after an argument with his father.  "Hmph!  I'm not surprised!" was all Amanda said.</div> <div> Afterwards, he came back to the United States in time for Prohibition.  He told Amanda about his friend Dave Fisher.  He and Dave met in New Orleans.  They became friends through a shared love of jazz music and blues-Dave played the trumpet in an all black band playing at a white club, and Quentin would stay in the club after hours to play the piano.  Dave had a ramshackle club out in the country, serving rotgut liquor in a smoke filled cabin crowded with customers who wanted to drink, dance, and listen to blues or jazz.  He'd taken Quentin along with him a few times before his new friend broached him with the idea of travelling to Puerto Rico and buying good liquor there and transporting it back to New Orleans.  At first, they only served local shack owners, like Dave, but soon the demand began to grow.  Their second large run landed the two partners in a Mississippi jail, robbed of their money, liquor, and truck-and almost of their lives.</div> <div>      New Orleans wasn't safe for them anymore.  Dave's family lived in New York--Harlem, and he decided to go home for a while.  Quentin had been in contact with Jamison on and off again over the years and decided to go along so that he could see his nephew there.  A few other members of the band decided to move on to New York, feeling that they'd have a better chance to play more prominent clubs there.  Once in New York, Quentin began to dream up more schemes involving running liquor into the country.  The operation was exciting and the profits were good.  In addition to that, he met people like Duke Ellington and frequented the speakeasies of gangsters.  There was no end to the supply of women, liquor, drugs, and music-it was all there for the taking.  Quentin reveled in it, and even Dave and his other friends were caught up in the exhilaration of outrunning the police and outsmarting the small time mobsters.</div> <div>      The mob watched and waited, biding their time to slap down the upstarts.  Quentin and Jamison started out their operation by investing in a schooner; pirates took it from them.  A gangster trying to go straight took a liking to Quentin and his friends' music.  He helped Quentin, Jamison, and Dave start up a new operation, using a taxicab to drive liquor into the country from Canada.  It was during this time that Quentin made a serious blunder, unintentionally intruding into gangster territory.</div> <div>      Quentin had no inkling of the danger he was in. He'd never intended the little experiment to come to such a disastrous end. He was very happy.  He'd reunited with his nephew Jamison, who was happily married to a wonderful and loving young woman named Ruth.  They had a delightful little girl, Elizabeth, a new baby, Roger, and thought they might be expecting a third child.  Quentin and Jamison made a holiday run to a friend who normally got his liquor from the gangsters.  They went on to the resort where Dave and his friends were playing the weekend to celebrate.  The two of them became too drunk to drive, and so Ruth had driven out to pick them up.  Quentin, who was on the verge of passing out, decided to stay behind with Dave.  </div> <div>      The gangsters struck again, to teach Quentin and his friends a lesson.  They shot out the tires of Jamison's car, not realizing that Quentin wasn't in it.  Ruth was killed instantly when she lost control of the car and hit a tree.  Jamison was seriously injured; his hip was shattered and he walked with a permanent limp.  Quentin didn't learn of the gangsters' involvement until after he was reunited with his estranged brother, Edward, and it was Dave who let him know that the gangsters were still looking for him.  There was, however, a "fixer"-a man of importance who wanted to intervene on Quentin's behalf and stop any further acts of vengeance.</div> <div> That benefactor was none other than Count Andreas Petofi, who had lived on through the fire at Charles Delaware Tate's cottage in the body of Garth Blackwood.  Garth Blackwood was not a gangster's name and so Petofi had prudently chosen the name Geraldo Bartelli. "My God, that is unbelievable," Amanda gasped.  She'd been listening wide-eyed throughout Quentin's story.  Now she took the joint and took a long hit, handing it back to Quentin.  "What did he do?  Did he stop the mobsters?"  She found a roach clip and handed it to Quentin to use.  Again, Quentin thought he detected a tone of admiration in Amanda's voice-perhaps she thought the bastard was very clever and had no idea how evil he really was.</div> <div> "Yes, he did," Quentin answered, closing his eyes.  He didn't want to think about the assault.  Only Angelique, Beth, and CaraLinda knew what had really happened to him that night; he had never been able to bring himself to admit it to Dave, his best friend, or to anyone else.   The truth was that Petofi had an ulterior motive to helping Quentin-he wanted to possess and control him, much as he had other young men and women.  Petofi was a sexual predator; when Quentin didn't cooperate, Petofi took him by force.  Quentin still had nightmares from that experience.  He didn't want to tell Amanda about it.  Instead, he told her that he realized Petofi wanted revenge on his family and that he managed to get away.</div> <div> After escaping from Petofi, Dave and Quentin hitchhiked into New Jersey.  He called his brother Edward, aware now of the family's accidental involvement with rumrunning and gangsters, and his brother suggested he go to the family's summer home in Cuddebackville, New York.  Edward arranged for both Dave and Quentin to play at the Buck Head's Lodge.   Quentin had spent most of his time drinking and fighting, unable to rid himself of the tormenting memories of Petofi.  </div> <div> In desperation, Quentin summoned Angelique.  His one time co-conspirator enemy/friend helped him find the one gypsy who would be able to bring about Petofi's downfall.  She was in Chicago, a singer named CaraLinda Romano-and, by happy coincidence, Quentin's niece Nora lived there with her family.  An even better coincidence was that Nora's attorney husband advised Al Capone, local thug, and owner of the club at which CaraLinda was singing.  That was the reason Quentin conspired to entrap Phillip Billings-to blackmail him into bringing Petofi to Chicago so that Angelique could steal the evil man's portrait from his lair in New York.   </div> <div> This was the tricky part.  While plotting to lure Bartelli to Chicago, he met Beth again-reincarnated as Kristin Ryan, a widow with two small children.  CaraLinda helped Beth remember her past life; Kristin Ryan was born on the day that Beth fell from Widow's Hill.  She and Quentin married.  He paused, watching Amanda's reaction.</div> <div> "I see," she said quietly.  "What happened to her?"</div> <div> "I'll get to that," he answered.  Relieved that she hadn't had a tantrum, he went on to tell her about luring Petofi to Chicago so that the gypsies could reclaim his hand. Before arriving in Chicago, however, Petofi retaliated by striking back at the Collins family, killing Edward.  </div> <div> "I remember Edward-he was a pompous ass!" Amanda exclaimed thoughtlessly.  </div> <div> She'd made mention of that before, and now it irritated Quentin.  "He was my brother, Amanda!" he snapped, and she was immediately contrite.</div> <div> "I don't know why I said that," she apologized.  "It was mean and spiteful!"  She stroked his face, trying to mollify him. Still, her eyes were alight with excitement.  "What did you do then?"</div> <div> In a final confrontation with Petofi, Quentin contrived to have Charles Delaware Tate-who was still with Petofi after all these years--sketch Beth's portrait and Petofi supposedly infused it with immortality as well.  They really believed that Petofi was gone…but was he?  There was the odd meeting with CaraLinda's brother-in-law; Quentin was sure it was Petofi himself.  Beth had once asked Quentin about evil-what if it just continued, moving from body to body?  Quentin thought about it now, thinking that Petofi was some particularly malignantly evil parasite, preying on one host body after another.</div> <div> "Is it possible?" Amanda wondered.  "Could he be that brilliant to be able to do that?"</div> <div> "I hadn't ever thought of it quite that way," Quentin replied, disturbed by the passionate expression in her eyes-it was almost lustful.  "Amanda, you didn't know Count Petofi did you?"</div> <div> "No, I only spoke with him a few times," Amanda answered.  "He seemed to be a brilliant tactician-he could have been a general or something."</div> <div> "Odd that you should say that," Quentin said.  He was frowning, remembering the grandiose plans Petofi had, bragging of his connections in the underworld and with bigoted, criminal politicians like Adolf Hitler.  "Amanda, he was a monster."</div> <div> The glow faded from Amanda's eyes; she seemed contrite and ashamed of herself. "Oh, please!  Don't misunderstand me-I think what he did to your family was horrid!  He deserved to die!  I hope you're wrong!"  Her tone became fervent.  "I hope you're wrong, Quentin, I hope he did die in that barn!"</div> <div> "No, he didn't.  He didn't die," Quentin told her.  He still felt disturbed but went on with his story.  Philip Billings was a corrupt lawyer, involved in gangster business and dallying with whores; he was shot and killed by mobsters who mistakenly believed he'd set them up to be betrayed. Nora was very depressed and suicidal.  Once he suspected that Petofi was still alive, Quentin and Beth fled Chicago with the children, Katie and Peter, Nora and her daughter, Mary Jane, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Cleary.  He talked about meeting officials in Washington, DC and being trained to do undercover work in Vienna.</div> <div> "Why there?" Amanda asked.</div> <div> "They had the most humane psychiatrists," Quentin explained. Nora desperately needed help; she made another attempt to kill herself.  He learned to speak German fluently from Beth.  They went to Vienna under the aliases Joe and Anna Fisher.  Joe was the name of Dave's troublesome brother, and Anna was Beth's sister-in-law's name.  He was supposed to be a journalist; she was a nurse.  They were very happy in Vienna until Adolf Hitler came to power.  Quentin paused, reflecting.   He remembered again Petofi's words about the political power he wielded.</div> <div> He had another memory-that of little Katie playing in the yard with her redheaded shadow from next door, a child several years younger than Katie who seemed to worship her and followed her everywhere.  After the Anschluss, Quentin and Beth decided it would be safer to send their family home.  At the same time, they smuggled their neighbors out, having them pose as cousins.  The father, a skilled psychiatrist, was Jewish. The mother, a Christian, had already experienced discrimination and bigotry from her Austrian neighbors and the German invaders. There had been many incidents that made the little family realize that if they stayed any longer, they would be in mortal danger. Quentin didn't tell Amanda that the family's name was Hoffmann.</div> <div> "After that, we left Vienna and went to Germany," Quentin told her.  "I was gathering reports and smuggling them out of the country with a German minister, a guy named Dietrich Boenhoefer."  No one seemed interested in Quentin's reports of death camps; they wanted to hear more about the munitions factories.  Beth was working as a nurse again and had undertaken a dangerous operation.  When a Christian patient died, she took the papers and gave them to a Jewish citizen so that he or she could get out of the country.  If a family was involved, Quentin or Boenhoefer would take the family to the border, smuggling them out under blankets in the back of a truck.  Resistance soldiers, who would take the refugees and disappear into the forests, met them at the border.</div> <div> "And then Beth was caught."  Quentin stopped here.  Amanda put her hand on his arm.  They were all arrested.  "And the ironic thing is, the war was almost over.  They were bombing all the time; the Allies were getting closer and closer."  Quentin sighed.  "Boenhoefer went to a concentration camp; so did most of the others.  Beth and I were Americans-and we were `special' so we were held over for special handling by one of their top S.S. officers.  The reason why we were special was because of the portraits-the ones that absorb all the injuries? The soldiers would beat us with these canes when they questioned us, and we'd heal miraculously.  This S.S. officer-his name was Frederick Dorn-- was very interested in that.  Amanda, he was one of Petofi's people.  Petofi told me about this mad plan he had for controlling people like Hitler, and apparently he'd gotten himself into Germany.  He was still mad at me, though-and Beth.  I would hear Beth screaming for me and it nearly drove me crazy, thinking it was my fault-I'd demanded that Tate draw her portrait.  She was suffering, and she couldn't die and it was my fault.  I couldn't die, either, although I wanted to."</div> <div> "Did you see Petofi?" Amanda asked curiously.</div> <div> "No, I only dealt with Dorn.  I know the name Petofi was using, though-you'd know it too if I said it."</div> <div> Amanda bit her lip and shook her head no.  She didn't want to know but asked Quentin to go on with the story.</div> <div> There was a young guard who would smuggle messages between Quentin and Beth so that they could encourage each other and let each other know that they loved each other.  It was young Rolf Baumgartner who broke the news to Quentin that Beth had been removed from the prison and taken elsewhere; he didn't know where.  He knew that Quentin was to be moved that evening.  Before that could happen, underground soldiers arrived and rescued Quentin and his guard, Rolf.  They had no idea where Beth was taken.  They got Quentin and Rolf out of Germany.  "I never saw Beth again," Quentin said softly.  He looked for her-after the war.  He looked in refugee camps all over Europe.  There was no trace of her.  He returned to Chicago and looked for her there. What was left of his little family was there; there was no sign of Beth.  </div> <div> Beth's daughter Katie met Rolf Baumgartner in Chicago, and they ended up getting married.  Rolf wanted to farm and so they'd bought some property near Hunter Mountain in New York.  It reminded Rolf of his hometown.  Still, there was no word from Beth.  He'd been back to Eastern Europe several times and encountered the same language barriers and suspicion that he had fifty years earlier; worse a Communist regime was in place.  He was escorted out of several countries and finally forbidden to return.  He asked too many questions. He shrugged.  "So I ended up coming back to the States.  The last time I was over there was in 1967 or  '68."</div> <div> "My God," Amanda said softly.  "What happened to your niece, Nora?  And Beth's son, Peter?  You haven't said anything about them."</div> <div> "Nora slipped over the side of the boat sometime after it left London back in 1938," Quentin answered flatly.  "She didn't want to go home.  I made her go-she wanted to stay in Vienna with us, where she was happy.  She didn't realize that way of life was ending anyway.  She didn't say anything to anyone.  Just-climbed up and jumped.  They never found her-or Peter.  Peter stayed behind in London and joined the RAF-as I had done in the first war.  His plane was shot down over the English Channel in the summer of 1940."</div> <div> Amanda looked at him silently, her eyes filling with tears.  He was feeling depressed but touched at her compassion and reached out to take her hand.  He was glad he wasn't alone right now.  "Quentin, what happened to Beth's portrait?" Amanda asked.</div> <div> "I don't know," he answered forlornly.  "We had it in a safe in a bank in Vienna.  I went back there after the war-when I was searching the camps.  It was gone."</div> <div> "Is she still alive?" Amanda wondered.  "You haven't seen her since 1945?"</div> <div> "She might as well be dead," Quentin answered, feeling despair.  If she was alive, what would she be like?  Where had she been?  What had her life been like?</div> <div> Amanda sniffed sharply, wiping her nose.  Quentin looked over at her and put his arm around her.  She wasn't crying, although her eyes still had tears standing in them.  "Excuse me," she said, sniffling.  "I'll be right back."  She slipped off the bed and went into the bathroom, while Quentin stared up at the ceiling moodily.  She was composed when she returned.  "What brought you back to Collinsport?" she asked.</div> <div> "Oh-there was an article about you," he answered.  It wasn't entirely a lie, and it pleased her.  She got back into bed again, rubbing her nose again, sniffing.  "Are you cold?  I can shut the window.  I don't think anyone's smelled the grass."</div> <div> "All right-unless you want another one."</div> <div> "Not right now."  Sometimes pot made him feel depressed, and this was one of those times.  He got up and shut the window.</div> <div> "What's going on in Collinsport?" Amanda asked next.</div> <div> He sighed.  He hoped his sad story would distract her and make her forget, but she hadn't.  He told Amanda about the Leviathans-that they were ancient inhuman creatures who lived on earth before the time of man.  They were shape-shifters and very dangerous in their "natural" state.  As he talked, Amanda's eyes became larger and larger.  She lit another joint without bothering to ask him to open the window.  "What does this have to do with you?" she asked.</div> <div> "My family is in the middle of it all.  They've been using Barnabas as a kind of puppet leader to make them seem legitimate.  They've indoctrinated and brainwashed some of my cousins.  And the plan is to have Carolyn mate with that-that thing," Quentin explained.  She didn't offer the joint to him this time; he had to reach for it.  "Chris is mixed up in this, too, but he doesn't know it yet-because of the curse."</div> <div> "So you've put yourself in danger, too, haven't you?" Amanda asked, almost angrily.</div> <div> "Well, after everything I told you tonight, is that any surprise?" he asked, trying to kid her.  When that didn't work, he said firmly, "Look, this is my family I'm talking about.  I'm tired of losing my family to evil people-evil creatures-evil things-in-the-box!"</div> <div> "Evil can't be beaten," Amanda pointed out in a practical tone.  "I think we should get on the next flight back to New York."</div> <div> "Oh, you do?"  He got up angrily.  "You go ahead.  I'll catch up with you later."  He'd forgotten her earlier admiration of Petofi; it all came back now and he was fed up.</div> <div> "No, Quentin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" Amanda said immediately.  She'd begun to cry again, very conveniently, Quentin thought angrily.  Still, he listened.  "I don't want anything to happen to you, you see?"  She paused and then went on, "Of course I understand that you want to help your family.  I guess you've got to-what other choice have you except to abandon them?  I don't think I would love you if you abandoned them, but I just hate all of this."</div> <div> He got back on the bed with her.  "This isn't my idea of fun, either."</div> <div> She laughed a little at his tone.  "Oh, please, give me some credit!  I have no idea what it's like to feel family ties the way you do.  I'm trying to understand, I really am."  She looked at him.  "Do you really think they liked me?"</div> <div> "Yes, they did-how could they not?"  He moved closer to her, putting his arm around her.  She snuggled closer to him and took the joint back from him.</div> <div> "You must stay then, and I'll do whatever I can to help," she whispered.</div> <div> Relieved, he began to cover her face with kisses until she stopped crying and began to laugh.  "Oh, stop, please!"</div> <div> He stopped.  "Are you sure you want me to?"</div> <div> "No-don't stop."  She moved, laying back, and opening her robe.  "Don't stop."   He took the joint from her and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the nightstand.  She reached up for him, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.  He put his hands on those perfectly rounded breasts, kneading them as he kissed her.  He felt mellow and pleasantly high, and now that she was being so supportive about the whole mess, he felt a burning desire for her.</div> <div> "I won't stop," he told her.  "I couldn't if I wanted to."  He'd become aroused and pressed himself against her so that she could feel his erection.  She reached down with her hand to stroke him, and he groaned.  He kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth before moving down her throat toward her breasts.  She arched her back in anticipation.</div> <div> "I've been wanting you since you started telling me your story," she told him huskily, moving her hand on him.  "Especially the parts of the story where you put yourself into so much danger.  Smuggling liquor, smuggling people--Quentin, please."  She was pulling him toward her, opening herself to him.  He was more than willing if she was ready, and slid into the warmth of her, his eyes widening as she maneuvered to make herself seem tighter and smaller.</div> <div> He moved with her, not thinking about anything except their joining; he began to move faster.  She was so tight-she was doing it on purpose, and he liked it.  They began to rock together, holding on to each other tightly.  They lay entwined together for a while, feeling comfortably cozy.  Slowly, Quentin became aware someone was rapping at the door.  "Is that really someone knocking?" Amanda asked, sounding offended.  "At this hour?"</div> <div> "This is what happens when you send the help on vacation," Quentin said dryly.  He got up, reaching for his robe.</div> <div> Amanda pulled on his shoulder.  "Oh, don't!  They'll go away!"</div> <div> "No, I'm up now.  Besides-what if it's someone who smelled all that illicit grass wafting out the window?"</div> <div> "Don't joke!  It's not funny!" Amanda exclaimed, sounding frightened.</div> <div> "Don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing.  I'll be right back.  Stay here and wait for me."  He went barefoot out the door and shut it behind him.  He switched on the light in the sitting room so that he could see his way to the door.  It was Barnabas, looking pale and grim.  "What's the matter?" Quentin asked, instantly alarmed.</div> <div> "Quentin, I need to talk to you for a moment," Barnabas answered. Quentin stepped back to let his cousin in and shut the door.  "I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour."  Quentin waved his hands to indicate it wasn't a problem.  "I don't know what to do-Jeb has killed Sheriff Davenport."  Quentin was so shocked, he couldn't speak.  He indicated that Barnabas should come in and sit down.  "No, it's late-I don't want to do that."</div> <div> Quentin finally found his voice.  "What, do you think you can just announce Sheriff Davenport is dead and retire for the evening?  Come on, I'll pour you a drink."</div> <div> "Very well, thank you." Barnabas gave in, beginning to remove his cape.  Always so polite, Quentin thought.  He looks like shit.  He took the cape, draped it over a chair, and went to the bar to pour a brandy for Barnabas.  He didn't think to ask him if that's what he wanted, but he had a feeling his cousin wouldn't care.   </div> <div> Barnabas accepted the drink and they sat down.  "Quentin, what is that odd smell?"</div> <div> "Oh, it's nothing-I set some paper on fire by accident," Quentin lied smoothly.  "What happened?" </div> <div> "Well, as you know, I had a disagreement with Jeb about his appearance at the funeral parlor.  Then, after we dropped you off, you said that a little knowledge could be dangerous.  I thought I had better go to the sheriff's office.  Much as I did not want to involve him, it appears he was already in the thick of things and wasn't aware of it.  However, when I got there, it was already too late.  He died the same way Paul Stoddard did."</div> <div> "Jeez," Quentin muttered.</div> <div> "Well, that's not the end of it---that's why I felt I had to talk to you," Barnabas said.  "Jeb was still there when I arrived.  He was suspicious-he wanted to know what I was doing there.  I told him that I was there to retrieve the cufflink but that obviously it was no longer a problem.  He is out of control.  He wasn't supposed to kill Paul Stoddard; Paul was supposed to give Carolyn to him in marriage.  He doesn't care about the book.  He says he will do what he wants when he wants."</div> <div> Whose side is he on? Quentin wondered.  "Barnabas, you weren't really intending on allowing this marriage to take place, were you?"</div> <div> "I was trying to think of a way to stop it," Barnabas answered softly. He sighed.  "I came to tell you to take you lady friend and get out of Collinsport.  I want you to go away."</div> <div> "You can't be serious!" Quentin exclaimed, but he saw very quickly that his cousin was nothing but serious.  "You want me to run away?"</div> <div> "I want you to be sensible," Barnabas urged.  "What is the use of staying here and putting yourself and that young woman in danger?  They cannot be stopped, Quentin.  I tried to discipline that boy and when Haza and Oberon found out, they punished me.  They made me experience again what it was like to be a vampire.  They are going to do what they will."</div> <div> He was filled with despair, Quentin noted.  "I can't believe you'd just give up," he said quietly.</div> <div> "I am not giving up.  I am going to fight them with every ounce of strength that I have left."</div> <div> "Well, then, why are you trying to send me away?"</div> <div> "Because I want you to be safe, Quentin.  I am going to tell Julia the same thing!"</div> <div> As if she'd listen, Quentin thought.  "What about Elizabeth?  Roger? The others?"</div> <div> "I have a plan to send Elizabeth and Carolyn away.  The other family members are in no immediate danger at the moment."</div> <div> "Neither am I, Barnabas."</div> <div> Barnabas gave him a stern look. "Well, I can't be sure how long that will last, can I?"  Quentin already had an argument in mind, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his cousin said:  "There is something you can do to help me."</div> <div> "What's that?"</div> <div> "Have you heard of Little Windward Island?"  He hadn't.  Barnabas went on, "I thought perhaps if you had some business you needed to take care of in the area of Portland, you might give me a ride to the ferry there.  The funeral isn't until the day after tomorrow.   You and Amanda can leave after the funeral."</div> <div> "What's at Little Windward Island?" Quentin asked curiously.</div> <div> "I will confide in you, but I don't want you to tell anyone else.  Not even Amanda, do you understand?"  When Quentin nodded, Barnabas said:  "Angelique."  Again, Quentin was shocked into speechlessness.  In fact, he began to choke on his brandy.  Barnabas pounded him on the back.  "Are you quite all right?"</div> <div> Well, I knew it was going to happen-it was inevitable, he thought.  He remembered sitting with Angelique on the side of a bed at the summer home trying to reassure her that they might as well enjoy their affair; she wouldn't have to worry about seeing Barnabas for another forty years.  He'd been so grateful to her for helping him begin to recover from Petofi's attack on him.  The years had passed a lot more swiftly than he'd ever guessed they would.  "What is she doing there?" he asked, when he'd stopped coughing.</div> <div> "Apparently she is happily married to a business magnate named Sky Rumson," Barnabas explained.  Quentin had heard of him; he wondered why Angelique hadn't tried to contact Barnabas.  He was about to ask when Amanda came into the room, tying her robe around her.  Barnabas stood up instantly, looking at Quentin with obvious surprise.  "I do apologize for this late night visit," he said politely to Amanda, his face reddening.  It was obvious to Quentin that Barnabas didn't realize that he and Amanda were sharing the same suite.</div> <div> "Why, Mr. Collins!  That's quite all right!" Amanda exclaimed.</div> <div> "Please, as I said earlier-if I am to call you Amanda, I must insist you call me Barnabas."</div> <div> Amanda fluttered her lashes, and Quentin nearly laughed aloud.  He wondered if Barnabas realized how gallant he appeared to women.  "Why, of course-Barnabas.  Please, sit down."</div> <div> "Oh, no!" Barnabas exclaimed.  "I was just going.  Quentin has kindly consented to allow me to accompany you part of the way to-to-"</div> <div> "Portland," Quentin put in.</div> <div> "Portland!" Amanda exclaimed.</div> <div> "Yes, my dear, remember?  I wanted to get my photo albums from my room at Mrs. Bailey's," Quentin said.  "Besides, we wanted to do some Christmas shopping.  If we wait too long, Santa won't have anything for us."  Amanda looked confused but made no objection as Quentin got up and escorted his cousin to the door.  Barnabas turned and clasped his hand tightly; it was warm and firm.  "I'll see you tomorrow morning, cousin," he said.</div> <div> "Yes, thank you, first thing," Barnabas answered, looking first at Quentin and then at Amanda.   He began to flush again.  "Good night Amanda, Quentin."</div> <div> "Good night," Amanda said faintly.  Quentin waved as he closed the door.  "Well!  What is going on, Quentin?"</div> <div> He kissed the top of her head.  "Come on, love, I have a feeling that Barnabas' idea of `first thing in the morning' is a lot different than ours.  I'll explain it to you in bed."</div> <div> Quentin had contacted the bank in Portland to wire money to him in Collinsport.  He knew Amanda would not want to ride on his motorcycle, but he'd gotten weary of being chauffeured around and rented a car. Early the next morning, they drove Barnabas to a ferry stop part way between Collinsport and Portland.  "How will you get back?" Quentin asked.  "Do you want me to come back and pick you up?"</div> <div> "Thank you, no, I have arranged for Julia to do that," Barnabas answered.  "Go and enjoy your trip to Portland.  Stay there until the funeral service."</div> <div> Yeah, right, thought Quentin.  He knew Barnabas was just trying to keep him safely out of the way.  "I like him," Amanda said brightly, as they drove away.  Quentin looked up in the rearview mirror, watching Barnabas grow smaller.  Help him, Angelique, please, he thought fervently.  He was just as worried about Barnabas as his cousin was about him.</div> <bR> <div>      The group that went from the church to the cemetery was considerably smaller than had shown up for the viewings and the service, Quentin noted.  He hung back from the rest of his family, uncomfortably aware of both Elizabeth and Roger's icy reserve.  Carolyn stood closer to Barnabas and Julia; she seemed to be upset with her mother. Interestingly enough, Philip and Megan Todd had come; Julia had introduced Amanda and Quentin to them.  Nervously, Mrs. Todd explained that Mrs. Stoddard asked them to come for the service.  She kept glancing over at a deputy sheriff, a young man named Lonnie Sirkis.  He'd come to pay his respects, he said.  Quentin suspected he wanted to see if the killer would show up.  Amanda looked around and nudged him.  "Your great-grandson is here," she whispered.</div> <div>      "Ssh!" Quentin whispered back.  They were several feet away from everyone else; still, he didn't want to take any chances on being overheard.  He looked around in surprise.  Sure enough, Chris Jennings had arrived and was standing with a nervous looking young woman.  <I>What is he doing here?</I> He wondered.  He doubted that Chris killed Stoddard; still, he was sure the Sirkis was wondering why he was there, too.</div> <div>      He didn't listen to the pastor speaking over the coffin of Paul Stoddard; he was too busy staring at Chris and wondering who the brunette was.  Chris realized he was under scrutiny and met Quentin's eyes, his jaw tightening.  He looked resentful which was understandable under the circumstances, Quentin reflected.  His attention was drawn back to the little group standing near the coffin.  Carolyn was throwing some dirt on her father's casket.</div> <div>      The service had ended; Barnabas and Julia were speaking words of comfort to Carolyn.  The officer stared over Quentin's shoulder.  For a moment, Quentin thought the Sirkis was looking directly at him.  He half turned and realized that someone else was there-someone watching from the thicket. Sirkis walked by at a leisurely pace.  Barnabas followed at a discreet distance.</div> <div>      Quentin itched to go too, but Carolyn and Julia approached him.  "Quentin, thank you for coming," she said softly.  It was plain that she had been crying recently.  Carolyn turned to Amanda.  "Thank you, Miss Corey."  Amanda put her arms around Carolyn and gave her one of those polite hugs that always looked so phony to Quentin.  He half expected her to kiss the air near Carolyn's cheek.</div> <div>      "I'm really sorry, Carolyn," Quentin told her.  He hugged her as tightly as he could under the circumstances.  He was very much aware of the two pairs of eyes boring into him, and so he let go of Carolyn and took her hand.  "I'll be around for awhile.  You can always call if you need to talk."</div> <div>      "Thank you," Carolyn said.  Julia put her arm around Carolyn and began to turn her toward her mother and uncle.  "No!" she protested suddenly.  "I think I'd like to stay a minute."</div> <div>      Quentin took the opportunity to turn toward Chris, bringing Amanda with him.  "Chris," he began, holding his hand out.  Chris only looked at him. "I don't blame you for being mad," Quentin said softly, letting his hand drop.  "I'm surprised to see you, to tell you the truth."</div> <div>      "You are, are you?" Chris answered.  "I dated Carolyn for a little while-I have some feelings for her even if things didn't work out.  I wouldn't just not show up."  Quentin was sure that his words were intended to be a barb directed at him.</div> <div>      "I wanted to talk to you.  I was going to come and see you."    Quentin still hoped to get things on a friendly basis with the young man.</div> <div>      "You don't have to," Chris replied coolly.  "Excuse me-I'd like to talk to Carolyn."  The young woman he was with gave Quentin and Amanda an agonized look of embarrassment as she followed Chris over to Carolyn.</div> <div>      "Well, I like that!" Amanda snapped, glaring at Chris' back.  "How rude!"</div> <div>      Quentin sighed, disappointed but not yet ready to give up.  "I can't blame him-it's my fault."</div> <div>      "As if you planned all this to happen to him personally!" Amanda continued as if Quentin hadn't said anything.  It was nice that she was coming to his defense, he thought, but he still couldn't bring himself to be angry with Chris.  Julia came back over to them, leaving Carolyn with Chris and the young woman.  "Well, Julia.  I would say your patient is fully recovered, wouldn't you?"</div> <div>      Julia smiled.  "I'd say that now isn't the time to decide that."</div> <div>      Quentin didn't want to listen to this.  "Excuse me-I want to talk to Barnabas a minute," he said abruptly and walked off in the direction the sheriff and Barnabas had taken.  He had a feeling that Amanda was going to be angry with him for leaving her, and he was willing to put up with her ire if he could find out who the mystery man in the woods was.  He met Barnabas on the way back.  "Where is the cop?" he asked.</div> <div>      "I believe he is on his way to Collinsport-to investigate Jeb Hawkes' background," Barnabas replied, looking angry.</div> <div>      "So he had the nerve to come here?"</div> <div>      "The nerve!" Barnabas spat.  "He feels he is above everyone's authority-and he doesn't care.  He isn't concerned with Carolyn's grief at all.  He is only thinking about when he can marry her-and he is putting the pressure on to do that."  He was controlling himself with a great deal of effort.  "Quentin!  He actually wanted to come and speak to Carolyn!"</div> <div>      Quentin could understand Barnabas' fury; he felt angry himself.  "Barnabas, why do you think he'd listen to reason when he hasn't up to this point?" he asked.</div> <div>      "You are right, of course," Barnabas agreed, his anger appearing to dissipate and turn to depression instead.  "Why do I keep believing that I would be able to make him listen?"</div> <div>      "I don't know, but you ought to give it up," Quentin advised.  He thought it was rather like hitting your head against a wall.  "We've got to get Carolyn out of here.  What did Angelique say?"</div> <div>      Barnabas slowed as they approached the mourners.  "She was unwilling at first, but I managed to talk her into it.  Angelique is a very complex person."  He cast a sidelong glance at Quentin.  "And `we' are not getting Carolyn out of here-I am.  You are returning to New York."</div> <div>      Quentin knew what Barnabas was trying to do.  "No," he said.</div> <div>      Barnabas looked immediately angry again.  "Now, Quentin, I don't want you to argue with me!  I want you to go back to New York-this afternoon.   You must!  It's not safe for you here and not for Amanda, either, especially if the two of you are carrying on an intimate relationship."</div> <div>      Quentin didn't see what difference that made, but he did concede that Amanda was safer elsewhere.  "I'll take Amanda back to New York," he agreed.  "Then I'm coming back."</div> <div>      "Quentin--!" Barnabas stopped himself, looking frustrated, as Elizabeth approached them.  Elizabeth looked very worried.  "We'll talk later!" Barnabas muttered under his breath.</div> <div> "Barnabas, would you please help me persuade Carolyn to come back to the house?"  Elizabeth asked, barely acknowledging Quentin with a glance.  "She won't listen to reason."</div> <div>      "Young people can be difficult," Barnabas agreed, sounding aggravated, and shooting a look at Quentin.  He continued in a softer tone, "She is grieving so, Elizabeth.  Would it hurt to let her stay a bit longer?  Julia and I will stay with her; we'll bring her home."</div> <div>      "Well," Elizabeth hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave her daughter. "All right, Barnabas."  She glanced at Quentin again. "Thank you for coming-Quentin," she added with just a trace of hospitality.  She turned and walked back toward Roger, the two of them putting their heads together.</div> <div>      "They hate me," Quentin said miserably.</div> <div>      Barnabas but put his hand on Quentin's shoulder and squeezed it.  "It will take time, I suppose.  I'm sorry, Quentin.  I'll talk to them again."</div> <div>      Quentin watched Chris and his lady friend walk off together.  "They all hate me."  He felt very depressed.</div> <div>      "All the more reason to stay in New York with Amanda," Barnabas said persuasively.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at him sharply.  "No."  He could see that Barnabas was about to remonstrate with him and decided now would be a good time to make his exit.  "I'll take Amanda back to New York, and I'll see you later."  As he walked away he wasn't sure who was madder at him, Amanda or Barnabas.  He wasn't sure which one he would prefer to deal with, either.  Amanda and Julia were still together which was encouraging until he saw the look on Amanda's face.  "I'm sorry I took so long," he said pleasantly.</div> <div>      "Can we go now?" Amanda asked, in a tightly controlled voice.</div> <div>      "Yes, let's go," he said, turning to Julia.  "I'll talk to you soon, Julia."</div> <div>      They hadn't gotten ten feet from Julia before Amanda began to berate him in a soft voice that became steadily louder.  "Just what made you go off and leave me alone like that?  What was so damn important, Quentin?  I don't have any friends to stand around and chit-chat with while you have little secret meetings with your cousin!"</div> <div>      "Listen, can we wait on this until we get into the car?" Quentin took her elbow and tried to hurry her along.  "I'd rather the whole town not hear."</div> <div>      "You have some nerve!" Amanda snapped, pulling away.  However, she kept her peace until they got into the car and then lit into him again.</div> <div>      "Look, Amanda, just stop it, will you?" he finally demanded, tired of being yelled at.  They'd arrived back at the Inn, and he jumped out of the car without waiting for her.  He went in to the desk clerk for the key.  Amanda stormed up the stairs, and he followed.  Well, she's mad as a wet hen already, he thought, might as well really infuriate her and tell her she's going back to New York today.</div> <div>      To his surprise, she seemed pleased.  "Good!  We have so little time to shop-and I have to start taping right after the holidays, too!  And we have to find an apartment."</div> <div>      He looked at her a moment, wondering if he should give her the bad news now-or wait.  If I wait, I won't have her tearing my head off while we're flying back, he realized.  Better to wait, he decided.  "All right, let's pack and get going, then," he said.  If they moved fast enough, he might even be able to fly back late this evening.  </div> <div> In the end, however, he spent hours arguing with Amanda and then cajoling her, trying to convince her that she would be safer in New York.  He promised to come back to her before Christmas, now just a week away.  He'd been fully prepared to leave her in spite of anything she said, and he suspected that she knew it deep down.  It made him feel like a heel, but he was confused right now.  He was supposed to be getting Julia and Barnabas to help him cure Chris so that he could be reunited with Beth.  Now he was mixed up in some monster mess and he had another woman to boot.  As soon as Amanda gave up, she wanted him to make love to her and he did.  As Amanda lay in his arms, he looked up at the ceiling and reflected that Jenny hadn't come to haunt his dreams lately.  He wondered where she was hiding. </div> <bR> <div>      Quentin called Collinwood from the airport the next afternoon, cursing Barnabas for being so set in his ways that he wouldn't even get a phone for the Old House.  Anyone who wants to talk to him has to call Collinwood and make someone trek out to the house to get him, he fumed, and then began to laugh.  He had a feeling Barnabas didn't have many callers.  Mrs. Johnson told him to hold on, and soon after Julia picked up the phone.  "Can you come pick me up?" he asked.  "I'm at the airport.  I could take a cab, but I thought we could talk."</div> <div>      "Good idea," Julia agreed.  "Barnabas is angry because you didn't listen to him.  Stay there.  I'll be there soon."</div> <div>      Fine, he thought.  We'll hang together from the same oak tree.  He had a feeling that Barnabas wasn't having any luck prying Julia out of Collinwood either.  He paced as he waited for Julia.     After awhile, she pulled up in her car, tossing a cigarette butt out the window as he walked toward her.  "Did Amanda give you a hard time?" she asked.</div> <div>      "Does a bear shit in the woods?" he answered.  Julia looked at him in wide-eyed surprised and laughed until the tears came.  </div> <div>      "Oh, Quentin!" she gasped.  "You are a pissa!"</div> <div>      "I'm a what?" he asked.  That was a new one on him.</div> <div>      "Oh!" Julia exclaimed, still laughing.  He hadn't thought it was <I>that</I> funny and decided Julia must be under a lot of stress.  Finally, she answered, "That would be a very unique person-I guess that is the best way to describe you."</div> <div>      "Is that good?" he asked, amused.</div> <div>      "Well, it depends-it can mean you're a pain in the ass or that you're irreverent or amusing or whatever.  It's relative, I suppose.  It's an expression I used when I was much younger-with my friends.  Before I became a doctor."</div> <div>      "Julia!" he exclaimed in mock horror.  "You used slang!"  Julia laughed again as she began to drive off.  "What's the latest on the thing-in-the-box upstairs?"</div> <div>      Julia looked at him quickly and laughed.  "Apparently he contrived to meet Carolyn already because Barnabas wasn't moving fast enough for him.  Barnabas was trying to convince him that Carolyn is grief-stricken, but he wouldn't listen."</div> <div>      "I thought Barnabas had given up trying to reason with that thing."</div> <div>      "Barnabas is being threatened by the Leviathans," Julia answered grimly.  Ah, thought Quentin.  That explains the nervous hilarity.   "He's being very stubborn, you know that.  He wanted you to leave; he wants me to leave.  He would like to take on the Leviathans alone."</div> <div>      "Who's he think he is, David?" Quentin asked irritably.  He realized that Julia might not understand his reference and might confuse King David with David Collins, so he added, "The One is not going to stand still and let Barnabas sling a rock at him.  We couldn't get that lucky."</div> <div>      "No," Julia agreed, "and it isn't helping that Elizabeth is pushing for Barnabas to bring Carolyn and Jeb together, either."  She sighed.  "Sheriff Davenport is being buried tomorrow-so many funerals."</div> <div>      Quentin sighed.  "So you say Barnabas is still angry, huh?  He won't talk strategy with us?  What about this Professor Stokes?"</div> <div>      "Well," Julia began and then stopped, puzzled, frowning.  They were in Collinsport now, driving toward the Inn.  A crowd of people was gathering in the park.  Quentin followed her gaze and saw a bike lying on its side.  "It looks like there was an accident," she commented.  "I'm going to pull over."  </div> <div>      Julia got out of the car with her bag, and she and Quentin walked toward the crowd of people.  They could see someone on the ground, being comforted by Mrs. Todd.  "My God!" Julia exclaimed suddenly.  "That's David!"  They pushed through the small crowd of people who were babbling about what had happened.</div> <div>      "It was an accident, I'm sure it was!" Mrs. Todd was saying in a frantic voice.</div> <div>      "Lot of accidents near that shop!" someone muttered.</div> <div>      Julia knelt down beside Megan and the boy, who seemed calm.  He looked up at Quentin, his eyes becoming guarded.  "David," Julia said.  "What hurts?"</div> <div>      "My leg," David replied.  His head was in Megan's lap, and he started to sit up, but Julia gently restrained him.  She turned to examine David's legs.  Quentin was no doctor, but he could see that David's leg was fractured.   He winced at the sight of bone protruding through the boy's jeans.</div> <div>      "Well, David, it looks like you're going to get a cast for Christmas," Julia told him, smiling and patting his shoulder.  It was obvious she was trying to keep him calm and comfort him.  She looked around.  "Has anyone called for the ambulance?"</div> <div>      "I did," Mrs. Todd answered.  Already they could hear the siren from an approaching ambulance.</div> <div>      "Oh, man!" David complained, looking put out.</div> <div>      "Did you slip on ice, David?" Julia asked.</div> <div>      "No, I was riding through with the stuff I bought for Carolyn and Amy-for Christmas-and this guy jumped out in front of me.  I didn't want to hit him and I ran into the water fountain," David explained.  "I must have flipped off.  I really don't remember now."</div> <div>      "A guy jumped in front of you?" Quentin repeated, intrigued.  "What did he look like?"</div> <div>      David looked up at him again and then away.  "I never saw him before.  He had blonde hair and a leather jacket and jeans."</div> <div>      "I'm sure it was an accident," Mrs. Todd repeated.</div> <div>      "Didn't look like no accident to me," someone in the crowd objected.  "From where I stood, the guy stopped when he saw the kid coming.  Then, as he saw him approaching, he jumped right into the kid's pathway."</div> <div>      "Oh, why would someone do that to a child?" Mrs. Todd argued.</div> <div>      Quentin and Julia exchanged glances.  Why indeed?  "I'd better go with David," Julia told Quentin.  "You'll be all right, won't you?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I'll get my bag out of your car and walk to the Inn," Quentin assured her.  "Is there anything I can do?"</div> <div>      "Well, you might call Collinwood and speak to Maggie or Carolyn," Julia suggested.  "Let them know what happened."</div> <div>      Great, thought Quentin.  "All right, I'd be glad to."   He looked down at David, who had become pale with shock.  "Hope it's not too serious," he told Julia, and she nodded in agreement.  He got his bag from the car and walked the short distance to the Inn.  After checking into his room, he called Collinwood and asked Mrs. Johnson (who never seemed to be in a good mood) for Maggie or Carolyn.  He hoped for Carolyn, but got Maggie instead. "Miss Evans, you don't know me," he began.  "I'm a distant relative of the Collins' family."  He stopped, confused.  He didn't want to get into that.  "I was with Dr. Hoffman and she asked me to call because David was in a little accident."</div> <div>      The governess immediately became excited.  "What!  Is he all right?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I think his leg is broken, but I'm not sure.  Anyway, Dr. Hoffman and David are on the way to the hospital.  Would you get in touch with his father, please?"</div> <div>      "Yes, of course I will!  And thank you for calling, Mr.--?"</div> <div>      "You're welcome," he answered softly, and hung up.  What now?  He thought about it and decided to walk to the Old House and talk to Barnabas.  If his cousin was still angry with him, they'd better have their argument and get it over with so that they could move on and do something to stop the Leviathans.</div> <div>      </div> <div>      He took the short cut to Collinwood.  Along the way he passed the caretakers' cottage and stopped short, surprised.  There was a little car parked alongside it, and he felt a little indignant.  That had been his love nest, and he and Beth had taken refuge there after Edward died.  Who was there now?  He walked on.  Barnabas would be able to tell him.</div> <div>      The walk was invigorating; it was cold outside, but the sun was warm once he'd started moving.  As he approached the Old House portico, he hesitated again.  He really wasn't eager to argue with Barnabas and hoped that maybe his cousin had changed his mind in the last twenty-four hours.  Right, he thought, and I'm the Statue of Liberty, too.  Resigned, he went up the steps to the door and knocked.</div> <div>      After a few moments, the door opened.  Barnabas stood in the doorway, looking grim.  "So you chose not to take my advice," his cousin said, sounding annoyed.  "What are you doing here?  Do you really think you can help?"</div> <div>      "Do you want to hear about what happened to David?" Quentin countered, knowing he'd get in the door this way.  Barnabas' eyes widened and he stepped back to admit his cousin.  He was full of concern, as Quentin knew he would be, and the fight had gone out of him-for the moment.  Barnabas led him to the drawing room, and Quentin realized this was the first time he'd been in the Old House since he'd lived at Collinwood.  He was impressed with the changes Barnabas had effected here.  A new portrait of Barnabas was over the fireplace.  There was, however, no Christmas tree.</div> <div>      Barnabas was pouring two glasses of brandy.  "Sit down, Quentin."</div> <div>      "I like what you've done with the Old House, Barnabas.  No electricity, though?  No phone?"  Quentin sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace, which had a nice warm fire going.</div> <div>      Barnabas turned around.  "No.  This is my refuge from the world-and technology.  I understand it has its uses and its conveniences; however, sometimes I think the noise and intrusion will drive me mad.  Here I am not bothered with all that."  He handed a glass of brandy to Quentin. </div> <div>      "No Christmas tree?" Quentin asked, arching his brows.</div> <div>      Barnabas looked exasperated as he answered. "Never mind that!  What has happened to David?"</div> <div>      Quentin didn't want to irritate his cousin any further, so he quickly explained what happened.  Even though he assured his cousin that Julia was with the boy and that David would be all right, Barnabas' eyes darkened with fury.  "What has that boy done to make Jeb do such a cruel thing?" he wondered, brooding.  "It is probably just to prove that he can do whatever he pleases-even to a loyal follower.  Quentin-he wants to marry Carolyn on Friday.  It's positively obscene!"</div> <div>      Friday!  That was the day after tomorrow.  "Of course it is, but he means it, Barnabas-you know he does."</div> <div>      "Yes, yes, of course I know it."  Barnabas looked into the fire, his features set in harsh, grim lines.  "He rants like a maniac.  He's already threatened to kill Julia, Maggie, and even little Amy because he doesn't like them.  He's decided that he and Carolyn will move into Collinwood once they've married and Carolyn becomes-like him."  Barnabas grimaced in disgust.  "He plans to convert Roger, and if Roger cannot be converted then he is expendable too.  If only I hadn't allowed Haza and Oberon to convince me that they held Josette in their power!"</div> <div>      "Well, you can't blame yourself for that," Quentin said.  "They're pretty powerful themselves, Barnabas.  You're human now.  You don't have any powers against them."</div> <div>      "Yes-and neither do you."</div> <div>      "But the portrait will protect me," Quentin argued.</div> <div>      "You don't know if you are immune to their power.  What if you can be brought under their influence?"</div> <div>      "I don't think they can do it."  As Barnabas began to disagree, Quentin raised his voice a little.  "I think we're just wasting time arguing back and forth like this, don't you?  Shouldn't we be trying to think of a plan?"</div> <div>      "I have thought of a plan," Barnabas replied sharply, "and it doesn't involve you.  Now please do as I asked and go back to New York."</div> <div>      "Why won't you let me help?" Quentin burst out, becoming annoyed himself now.  "Barnabas!  I read that damn book! Do you know what can hurt Jeb?"  At the stubborn look on his cousin's face, Quentin realized that Barnabas didn't know and didn't want to ask.  "I can tell you-do you want to endanger everyone because you want to be the only one to bring Jeb down?" Quentin jumped up furiously.</div> <div>      "It's not that way at all!" Barnabas burst out angrily.  "I don't want you involved because I don't want anything to happen to you!  It is the same with Julia-and with Maggie."</div> <div>      "Well, at least listen to what his weaknesses are, dammit!"</div> <div>      "Sit down and stop shouting, and I will listen!" Barnabas snapped back, so Quentin sat back down.  "All right-what are his weaknesses?"</div> <div>      "If a Leviathan has killed a human enemy, the spirit can come back and cause harm-more so than if the enemy was still alive," Quentin said, pausing significantly.  Barnabas' eyes shot up.  "The other enemy the book mentions is a `wolf who walks like a man.'  Now, Barnabas, it seems to me we have one of each of those kinds of enemies."</div> <div>      "Paul Stoddard and Chris Jennings," Barnabas said thoughtfully.</div> <div>      "Sheriff Davenport, too," Quentin added.  "I'd rather not get Chris involved in this, though."</div> <div>      "Agreed," Barnabas said immediately.  "But Paul Stoddard-I suppose we could call him back."</div> <div>      "He may not even be at rest," Quentin put in, feeling excited.  He felt hopeful for the first time.  Barnabas looked at him and smiled a little.  "We could have a séance, Barnabas.  Call him back."</div> <div>      "Stop saying `we'!"   Barnabas objected immediately.  "I will call Paul Stoddard back."</div> <div>      "Would you stop being so stubborn!" Quentin exclaimed.  "Paul Stoddard didn't trust you, did he?  What if he won't respond to you?"  Barnabas didn't answer; he steepled his hands together and glared at Quentin.  That must mean that his cousin agreed with him and didn't want to admit it.  "I think I should call him back," he said, pushing the point.</div> <div>      "You are very persistent aren't you, Quentin?" Barnabas grumbled.  "Perhaps I can summon Sheriff Davenport."</div> <div>      "Look, Stoddard has more of a stake in this than Davenport does," Quentin argued.  "He loved his daughter, didn't he?  Didn't he die, trying to protect her?"</div> <div>      "That's true," Barnabas conceded reluctantly.  "Very well, Quentin.  You call Stoddard back.  Come back here this evening.  We'll hold the séance with Julia."  He smiled grimly at Quentin.  "I am not able to convince her to leave, either.  If anything happens to one or both of you, I will have your blood on my head as well."</div> <div>      "Not really," Quentin answered, trying to alleviate the guilt Barnabas was carrying.  "We're doing this of our own free will-you can't say you didn't try to stop us."</div> <div>      "Ineffectively."  Barnabas sounded and looked frustrated.  Quentin supposed that after being a vampire for so long and being able to wield such power, it must be infuriating to be circumvented over and over.  Barnabas used to get his way by a look or by a command.  Quentin would have found it amusing if he didn't care so much for his cousin.</div> <div>      "Who's in the caretaker's cottage now?" he asked to change the subject.</div> <div>      Barnabas looked surprised.  "You didn't know?  Chris is living there."</div> <div>      "Oh!"  Quentin exclaimed.  Well, that wasn't so much of an intrusion.  "I wanted to try to talk to him."</div> <div>      Barnabas looked at him with compassion.  "Would you like me to go with you?  I must tell you, though, that I might be more a hindrance than a help.  I as much told Chris I thought his case was hopeless."  He sighed.</div> <div>      "I'll try to talk to him," Quentin decided.  He thought Chris might be angered by the appearance of two people he was mad at.  "I just wish I knew what to say to him.  I've been around the world a couple of times, Barnabas.  I haven't been able to find anything at all.  I tried talking to some gypsies, but they don't trust <I>gauchos</I>-people like us."</div> <div>      Barnabas heard the unhappiness in his cousin's voice.  "I'm sorry, Quentin-I understand how you must feel.  I do."  Quentin knew that Barnabas really did understand; he'd been cursed himself.  "If we can get through this, you must sit down with Julia and me and tell us everything that you know.  Perhaps there is something that has been overlooked.  Perhaps there is something Julia can try."  He looked fatigued.</div> <div>      "Thanks, Barnabas," Quentin said gratefully.  His cousin was under a great deal of strain and he didn't want to add to his burden, so he stood up.  "I'll come back later-dusk maybe?  And we can do the séance."</div> <div>      "That would be fine," Barnabas agreed, getting up to walk Quentin to the door.</div> <div>      Quentin walked back along the path to the caretakers' cottage.  The car was still there, so he knocked at the door and then stood there.  He waited a few minutes and then knocked again, beginning to feel foolish.  He thought he saw a curtain move in the bedroom.  No one came to the door.  He turned and began to walk through town when he caught a glimpse of blonde through the trees.  It was Carolyn, walking in the opposite direction.  He caught up with her quickly; she heard him coming and stopped.  "Carolyn, how are you?" he asked.</div> <div>      "I'm all right, I guess," Carolyn replied, pushing her hair back from her face and behind her ears.  She was very pretty, he realized, like her mother-but she had her father's coloring.   He realized he'd never seen Paul Stoddard up close and didn't know if he'd been blonde, blue-eyed, or polka-dotted.  "I was just going for a walk."  She looked mildly surprised.  "What are you doing out here?"</div> <div>      "Oh, I was visiting Barnabas.  I was walking back to town and I saw you," he answered.  She looked sad, and he knew she missed her father.  "Hey, if you're going for a walk, why don't you come back to town with me?"</div> <div>      She drew back a little.  "I don't want to go back to town!"  She seemed upset about something.</div> <div>      "Why not?  Did something happen there?" he asked.</div> <div>      She shook her head and laughed nervously.  "Oh, it's nothing, really."  After a moment, she must have realized she really did want to talk about it because she went on, "It's just that I went back to the antique shop today to help out-I thought it would help me take my mind off things.  And I met the most horrid young man there."     </div> <div>      "Oh?" Quentin asked, feeling a sense of dread.</div> <div>      "Apparently he's taken a room with the Todds.   He is the most self-centered, conceited, arrogant man I've ever met!" Carolyn went on.  "He stared at me as if he'd known me a long time and told me he was going to take me out tomorrow night!  I told him no, thank you, very politely and he just laughed!"</div> <div>      "You can't be polite to some people," Quentin told her.</div> <div>      "You're telling me!  He was quite insistent that we were going out!  He even suggested what color dress I should wear!  And do you know what was the craziest thing of all?  He said we were getting married and that he had to get to know me!"</div> <div>      "He sounds like a real as-er, jerk!"  Quentin felt his anger building.  "Listen, Carolyn, it sounds like you've been through a hell of a time.  Why don't you just stay away from there for awhile?"</div> <div>      "Well, I would-except it has been helpful to me.   I don't think about my father all the time when I'm distracted."</div> <div>      She looked so sad; Quentin again felt moved.  "Look, I'll tell you what.  Why don't you come into town with me just to get my bike?  We can go up to Bangor.  Do you need to do any Christmas shopping?  Or maybe we can take in a movie or something."</div> <div>      Carolyn smiled and then frowned.  "Are you asking me out on a another date?"</div> <div>      "No," he answered, surprised.  "I'm just asking you out."</div> <div>      "Well," Carolyn began, considering.  "Where is Miss Corey?"</div> <div>      "She's in New York.  She's going to start taping for some soap opera she's appearing in."</div> <div>      "Why did you ask me out on a date when you first came to Collinsport?" Carolyn asked.  "Especially if you were already friends with Miss Corey?"</div> <div>      "I didn't know you were my cousin when I came here, Carolyn," he explained.  "I didn't even know for sure that Olivia would be here.  She's an old friend of mine-I hadn't seen her in years."</div> <div>      "An old friend?" Carolyn asked, a little coquettishly.</div> <div>      "From my adolescent days, yes," he answered.  He thought that was the truth.  He supposed just because he was physically a man didn't make him one-not then.  "So-do you trust me?  Want to go to Bangor?"</div> <div>      "All right!" Carolyn exclaimed decisively.  She smiled up at him.</div> <div>      "Good!"  He walked Carolyn into town, avoiding the antique shop.  His bike was still parked in the Inn's parking lot.</div> <div>      Carolyn was delighted.  "I haven't been on one of these in at least a year!"</div> <div>      He got on and slid forward to give her more room to get on behind him.  She put her arms around his waist snugly.  He put all un-cousinly thoughts out of his head.  "So you were on a bike before, huh? You know where to put your feet and everything, huh?"  He released the brake and backed the bike out with his feet until he was facing the exit to the parking lot.</div> <div>      "Oh, my mother was so angry!  I was being rebellious and dating a guy named Buzz.  He had a Harley, too.  He wasn't a bad guy, though-like mother thought.  He just wasn't going anywhere.  He could have though-he wasn't stupid."</div> <div>      "So what was up with him?"</div> <div>      "He was too heavy into drugs.  He kept trying to get me to try things I didn't want to take.  I didn't mind the grass, but he was also dropping acid, and I just couldn't get into that."</div> <div>      "You're better off," he agreed, relieved, starting the motor.  He'd seen what a bad trip could do at Woodstock.  They didn't get a chance to talk much on the road because the roar of the cycle was too loud.  </div> <div> Once they got into Bangor, though, they decided to go Christmas shopping.  As they walked along the street, Carolyn began to pepper him with family questions that made him uncomfortable.  He told her part of the truth-about Mary Jane, Phil Jr., Ed and their families.  They were from Nora's branch of the family.  He always thought it was too bad that the cousins never saw each other; Jamison's bitterness must have driven everyone away.  As for himself, he told Carolyn that his parents and all his siblings were dead-that was the truth. </div> <div>      "So you're all alone?" Carolyn asked.  The extra word "too" hung in the air.</div> <div>      "No-not really.  I have my cousins in Chicago.  Then there's you-and your family.  You're not alone, either, Carolyn."</div> <div>      "I miss my father," Carolyn said and sighed.  "I only just met him again a few weeks ago.  He was gone my whole life-but I miss him.  Does that sound crazy?  He really was a nice man."</div> <div>      "I'm sure he was," Quentin agreed kindly.  "Want to stop for a drink?  Or hot chocolate or something?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I'm cold!" Carolyn agreed.  They went into a little restaurant and ordered coffee.  Quentin listened as Carolyn talked about how restless she felt.  She wanted to do something with her life, but she didn't know what.  She admired him because he was a writer and had traveled.  She was impressed that he was close friends with a beautiful actress like Olivia Corey.</div> <div>      "Well, Carolyn, you're beautiful and smart," he told her.  "You can do whatever you want.  What about college?" She smiled and shrugged.  She just wasn't sure.  "You have plenty of time, you know.  You're still young.  You'll find yourself, don't worry."</div> <div>      "Oh, really?" Carolyn laughed.  "And have you found yourself?"</div> <div>      He snickered, laughing at himself.  "I'm still looking."  They both laughed.  They returned to Collinwood in good spirits.  He dropped her off at the main house, declining her offer to come in and have dinner with her family.  "Hey, listen, why don't you come have dinner with me tomorrow night?" he asked.  At Carolyn's puzzled look, he went on, "Well, this way you won't have to worry about Mr. Obnoxious-you'll be out with me."</div> <div>      "All right!" Carolyn agreed, smiling again.  "I'm really glad you came to town, Quentin.  And thanks for spending the afternoon with me."  She turned and walked toward the house, and he started the cycle again.  That was probably an error in judgement on his part because the door opened, and he saw Roger standing there staring at him.  Elizabeth joined him very quickly.  He hoped he hadn't made more trouble for Carolyn and considered turning the bike off to go talk to them.  The truth was, though, he was afraid to, and so he roared off back toward town.  He wanted to get something to eat before going back to the Old House for the séance.</div> <bR> <div>      He and Julia met on the portico of the Old House later in the evening.  Barnabas let them in, looking grim and tired.  Quentin guessed he'd been wasting his time trying to reason with Jeb again.  Barnabas said he had gone to Collinwood to see David and found Jeb wandering around the house looking for Carolyn.  "He walked in, just like that?" Quentin asked, outraged.  He told Barnabas and Julia that he'd taken Carolyn with him to Bangor.</div> <div>      "I'm glad you did," Barnabas admitted.  "He is bold as brass, but the problem is that Elizabeth won't stop him.  She's given him the run of the place.  Maggie found him talking to David."</div> <div>      "Oh, let me guess-he was the one that caused David's accident, wasn't he?" Quentin asked sarcastically.</div> <div>      "Who else?" said Julia.</div> <div>      "Maggie said that Jeb gave David a watch," Barnabas continued darkly.  "As if that should make up for causing such a severe injury!  Maggie senses something about Jeb, and she asked me questions that made me worry about her safety.  Jeb hates her, as you know, and is just looking for an excuse to kill her."</div> <div>      "Well, let's see if we can't get rid of Jeb first," Quentin said.  "Are you both ready?"</div> <div>      "Come into the drawing room," Barnabas said.  He'd already set up a small table with chairs so that they could conduct their séance.  Once they sat down, he allowed Quentin to take the lead.</div> <div>      Quentin made sure that all their fingertips were touching and asked them to concentrate on Paul Stoddard.  He began to call out to Carolyn's father, asking him to appear to them.  Quentin felt heat in the room; it was more than just the fire that was brightly lit in the fireplace.  There was a crackling of electrical energy in one corner of the room, behind Barnabas' chair.</div> <div>      "Paul Stoddard?" Quentin called.</div> <div>      Slowly, the crackling sound faded and in its place, the air started swirling in circles; a form was taking shape.  "Who are you?" the form asked.  "Why are you calling me?"</div> <div>      "I'm Quentin Collins-are you Paul Stoddard?  I'm calling you because we need your help to save Carolyn."</div> <div>      "Carolyn!" the voice cried out, as if in pain.  "I betrayed her!  I have to help her, but I don't know how!"</div> <div>      "Let us help you," Quentin said.</div> <div>      "Who else is there?"  The form began to move from the corner of the room.  After a pause, there was a snarl of rage from the figure.  "This is a trick, a trick!  Barnabas Collins is here!"</div> <div>      "No!" Barnabas called out, anguished.  "I never intended for him to kill you!  I want to help!"</div> <div>      "You think I would trust any of you?" the figure spat.  "The only thing I have to thank you for is helping me find my way here, but I will not stay any longer!  I will find my own way of protecting Carolyn!"</div> <div>      "No, please wait!" Quentin cried, standing up.  The form moved right through him and disappeared.  Quentin felt as if he'd been hit in the stomach, hard, and flew against the wall.  Slowly, he slid to the floor, clutching his abdomen.</div> <div>      "Quentin!" Julia cried.  He'd hit his head and felt enormously dizzy.  He was aware that both Julia and Barnabas were kneeling beside him.</div> <div>      "I'm all right," he gasped.  "Man, he packs some wallop-do you think he can do that to Jeb?"</div> <div>      "I have no idea what he can or cannot do to Jeb," Barnabas answered harshly.  "The séance was a mistake-or at least, my presence here was.  We are no better off than we were before!"</div> <div>      "We've got to get Carolyn out of Collinsport," Julia said, examining the back of Quentin's head.  She smiled at him.  "No bump."</div> <div>      "No, but my head's going to hurt like hell for awhile."  He looked at Barnabas.  "Angelique said she'd let Carolyn come to her place?"</div> <div>      "Yes-I'm taking her Friday morning or afternoon," Barnabas answered.</div> <div>      "Elizabeth agreed?" Julia asked, surprised.</div> <div>      "She doesn't know yet.  However, she will agree," Barnabas answered in a very determined way.  Quentin knew that tone.  Elizabeth would have to be a very strong woman to get around Barnabas on this one, and he didn't think she would.  The séance might have failed but he felt relieved anyway, sure that Elizabeth and Carolyn would be safely out of Collinsport before Friday night.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>           <A HREF="id113.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Going Home Again"><U>5:  Going Home Again</U></A>  <A HREF="id116.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Challenging the Leviathan"><U>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>