7: Challenging the Leviathan

<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><A HREF="id114.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: ThingintheBox"><U><B>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</B><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>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</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>      Quentin met the "thing-in-the-box" at Collinwood the following day.  He spoke to Amanda on the phone in the morning; she sounded out of sorts and irritated, telling him she was going apartment hunting and he would just have to live with whatever she picked out.  She seemed even more annoyed when he was so agreeable about it.  He wanted to visit Chris and Barnabas, too, so he rode his motorcycle to Collinwood, turning down a side path.  He didn't want Elizabeth or Roger to see him coming.</div> <div>      He wished he knew what to tell Barnabas about Paul Stoddard.  The spirit had vanished entirely.  Perhaps he would know how to fight with Jeb instinctively-Quentin hoped so, anyway.  After the first little disaster, he had managed to persuade Barnabas to try a second séance, summoning Sheriff Davenport. That hadn't gone well, either.  There was no response to the summons; Quentin wasn't sure why.  He went to the Old House first, but Barnabas wasn't there.  </div> <div> Leaving the motorcycle, he walked to the cottage and had better luck-Chris was working on his car.  Chris heard him coming and looked up, giving him a hostile glare.  "What do you want?" he asked.</div> <div> "I just wanted to talk to you," Quentin said, feeling the resentment practically radiating from Chris.  "Look, I just want to let you know that I want to help you somehow."</div> <div> "Yeah?" Chris said.  "Hand me a T-bar, would you?"</div> <div> Startled, Quentin went into the toolbox and pulled out the tool.  He gave it to Chris, looking over his shoulder as Chris began loosening a stubborn lug nut.  "I wasn't talking about fixing your car."</div> <div> "Yeah, I know," Chris grunted.  He glanced briefly at Quentin.  "I can't think what other use you could be, though-unless you're going to be my new zoo keeper."</div> <div> Quentin sighed.  "I don't blame you for being mad."</div> <div> "Really? That's considerate of you, Quentin.  Thanks."  </div> <div> Quentin didn't know what to say to that.  Man, I'm just making everything worse, he thought miserably.  I don't change anymore, but it's my fault he does.  No wonder he's mad.  He thought about inviting Chris to take a punch at him.  At that moment, Chris stopped what he was doing and looked him in the face.  He could see that Chris was just as miserable, if not more.  "Chris, I'm sorry.  I know that's pretty useless, but I am sorry."</div> <div> Chris sighed.  "Ah, man, I know you didn't have all this in your mind when you got cursed."  He put his hand out, and Quentin gratefully took it.  "I'm glad you came out.  Now I don't think you're so much of a son of a bitch, but I don't think there's anything else that can be done-unless you want to shoot me."</div> <div> "No!" Quentin exclaimed, shocked.  "Look, you had the same dream I did, didn't you?  With Jenny?  Your great-grandmother?  There's a way to beat this thing; we just need to find it.  That's all."</div> <div> "That's what Julia says, too," Chris said.  "I'm just getting tired of nothing working-and the body count growing, you know?"  Quentin winced and Chris saw.  "Did you kill any people?"</div> <div> "Yes," Quentin answered, remembering his shame and horror.  "I know how it feels."</div> <div> Chris nodded.  "You want to give me a hand with this thing?" he asked, moving over to make room for Quentin.  Quentin immediately joined in, pleased--this was the cautious beginning to a relationship with his great-grandson.</div> <div> As they'd worked on the car, Quentin told Chris about Jenny and how the curse started.  He regretted it all; if he could go back and change things, he would.  He would do it all differently.  Chris nodded and didn't say anything, but Quentin thought Chris believed he was sincere.   He asked Chris about the young woman who came to the cemetery the other day and found out this was Sabrina Stuart, Chris' fiancee.</div> <div> "When are you getting married?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "I'm not," Chris answered shortly.  "How can I?  I got engaged to Sabrina when I was still in school-before I underwent the first transformation.  She saw it happen.   Thank God I didn't attack her or hurt her-not physically anyway.   She was-I don't know, catatonic after it happened.  She only started coming around recently.  Julia and Professor Stokes have been working with her."</div> <div> Those two names again, thought Quentin.  He saw the pain on Chris' face as he spoke of Sabrina and felt miserably guilty for it.  "I'm sorry," he muttered.</div> <div> "Well, she's better," Chris said, resigned, in some attempt to make Quentin feel better.  "She'd still like to get married.  I'm the one who's dragging my feet now-it was the other way back then."  He wanted to change the subject so he asked what Quentin had been up to lately.</div> <div> Relieved, Quentin talked about his free-lance writing.  Sometimes he wrote articles on his own; sometimes he was assigned stories.  He found out Chris liked rock music and began telling him about Woodstock. "So you were there?" Chris asked.  "Cool.  Who'd you see?"  He listened as Quentin talked about the Who, Janis Joplin, and many of the other bands he'd seen and heard.  He told Chris about waking up to Jimi Hendrix playing "The Star Spangled Banner" on the guitar. </div> <div> After they'd worked together another hour or so, Chris decided he was done for the time being and invited Quentin to come in and wash the grease off himself.  When Chris invited him to join him for lunch, he said, surprised, "Is it that late?  I'd like to, but I really need to talk to Barnabas.  Another time?"  When Chris nodded, he felt relieved.  </div> <bR> <div> Barnabas had bad news all around.  Dourly, he let Quentin into the Old House.  He wasn't interested in eating which was unfortunate, because Quentin was hungry.   "Are you sure I can't buy you something to eat?" Quentin urged.  "You've been out since early this morning, haven't you?  You should eat something."</div> <div> He lost his appetite, though, when Barnabas told him what he'd been up to and what happened at Collinwood.  "I went to see Jeb this morning," Barnabas explained.  "I hoped to stop him."</div> <div> "More persuasion?" Quentin asked, exasperated.</div> <div> "No," Barnabas replied irritably.  "I brought a peace offering-a bottle of wine."  Quentin's eyes widened with surprise.  "I also brought a poison-arsenic.  I hoped that would do the trick in his human form."</div> <div> "Arsenic?" Quentin repeated, trying not to laugh.  He doubted Barnabas had seen the movie `Arsenic and Old Lace.'  "Where'd you get the idea poison would work?"</div> <div> "It was the only thing I could think of to try," Barnabas answered.  "I didn't think shooting him would work."  He sighed.  "He was favorably impressed with the wine.  However, I think he is still suspicious of me.  When he finished the first drink, he was perfectly fine.  He asked me to join him in another."</div> <div> "And you didn't?" Quentin asked, his eyebrows going up.</div> <div> "I didn't want to drink with him, I wanted to kill him," Barnabas replied, sounding offended.  Quentin laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation.  His cousin didn't find it amusing.  "What is so funny?"</div> <div> "I'm sorry," Quentin apologized.  He was thinking that Barnabas would make a very poor spy but decided his cousin would not appreciate the observation.  "Look, if you want to fool him next time take the second drink even if you don't want to."</div> <div> "Well, I don't know if that would have helped in any event because he told me that he does not like me.  When I suggested it might be because he objected to authority, his response was no one had authority over him and that I would do well to remember that.  He reminded me that he intends to have this-this ceremony with Carolyn tomorrow night and wants me to make the arrangements."</div> <div> "But Carolyn and Elizabeth will be leaving tomorrow, right?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "I intend to make sure of it," Barnabas said adamantly, "in spite of what Jeb Hawkes tries.  I went to speak to Elizabeth today.  While I was there, a dozen roses arrived for Carolyn from him.  There was a note of apology-and he asked to take her out, tonight."</div> <div> "Well, he can't do that!" Quentin exclaimed.  "She agreed to go to dinner with me."</div> <div> Barnabas smiled at him.  "Oh, really?  Well, I should tell you that Carolyn got on the phone to call him and thank him very much for the flowers.  She did tell him she had a dinner date; I had the impression he wouldn't take no for an answer and is planning to come and see her later."</div> <div> Quentin fumed.  "Fine.  I'll take her to the movies then."</div> <div> "I would appreciate it if you would," Barnabas said.  "I think she is planning on seeing him after dinner."</div> <div> "I'm glad you warned me," Quentin said.  "Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"  If Barnabas didn't want to eat, he was going to go back into town.</div> <div> "No, I've rather lost my appetite," Barnabas said.  "Elizabeth has gone into town to that infernal antique shop.  It's fortunate that Maggie was able to persuade Carolyn to go for a walk with her first; otherwise, I am sure she would have gone too."</div> <div> "Is Roger home?" Quentin asked.  He had an idea.</div> <div> "Not at this time of the day, no.  He would be at the yards or at the cannery.  Did you want to talk to him?"</div> <div> "Not him, no.  Thanks, Barnabas.  I'll talk to you later."</div> <div> "And what about Paul Stoddard?" Barnabas asked.  "He appeared to David and told him he'd been murdered.  The boy was upset."</div> <div> "He did?"  Quentin was thoughtful.  "Maybe I'll try to talk to him-David, I mean.  It sounds like Stoddard's trying to figure out what to do, but he shouldn't be appearing to David."</div> <div> "I don't want him to appear to Carolyn," Barnabas said sternly.</div> <div> As if I could control what that ghost does, Quentin thought.  "Did it occur to you that it might be helpful if he did?  He could tell Carolyn what happened to him."</div> <div> "Don't you think Carolyn has suffered enough?" Barnabas objected.</div> <div> Quentin sighed.  Well, that was true.  "Maybe I can get him to appear to me in my room-alone," he said thoughtfully.  "I'll see what I can do.  I'll talk to you later."  </div> <div> "And where are you going?"</div> <div> "To make sure I don't get stood up!" Quentin called over his shoulder.  He walked to Collinwood swiftly.  If Elizabeth was in town and Roger was away, that meant Carolyn was alone with the governess and the children.  He didn't know how the governess felt about him and hoped he could make things right with the children, but he really wanted to talk to Carolyn and convince her it would be a bad idea to go out with Jeb.</div> <div> The woman who opened the door to him might have been pretty if her hair wasn't pulled back so severely into a bun.  She wore a black dress and heavy-duty nurse's shoes.  This had to be Mrs. Johnson, Quentin thought.  She goggled at him with shock and he groaned inwardly.  Apparently he'd scared the stuffing out of her, too.  "We've talked on the phone a number of times," he told her.  "When I would call Julia?  Is she here?  Or Carolyn, maybe?"</div> <div> "Come in," the woman said, a little breathlessly.  As Quentin entered the foyer, he could hear the sound of a piano playing and it instantly brought back memories of Ruth Collins.  He felt suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of coming here with his friend Dave.  He played on the piano and Dave played on the trumpet, watching Ruth and Jamison dance together.  Little Elizabeth, not wanting to be left out, pirouetted around the room.  My God, he thought, it's like it happened yesterday.  He struggled to control his emotions, feeling his eyes fill up with sudden tears.</div> <div> "It's still here," he said softly.</div> <div> "Excuse me?" Mrs. Johnson asked nervously.  She'd taken his coat and had turned away to hang it up.  She turned back toward him, looking at him as if she expected to find him holding up a butcher knife.</div> <div> "Oh, I said I can hear it here," he lied swiftly.  "The piano, I mean."</div> <div> "Yes, it's right this way."  Mrs. Johnson took the lead, but he could have found the room himself.  He knew it would be the very same piano that Ruth Collins had brought to this house when she married Jamison, scandalizing old Judith and eventually humanizing Edward.  Mrs. Johnson opened the door and said, "Oh, Carolyn, Dr. Hoffman, a visitor!"  She took her leave as quickly as she could.</div> <div> "Why, Quentin, what a surprise!" Julia exclaimed, standing up from where she'd been sitting.  He saw that she was reading a book about lycanthropy and was surprised, wondering how she managed to cram so many things into her day.  </div> <div> Carolyn was sitting at the piano, playing a Beethoven piece moodily.  Her features brightened when she saw Quentin.  "You're early!"</div> <div> "I'm hungry," Quentin said.</div> <div> "For dinner?" Carolyn exclaimed, amazed.  "It's just lunch time."  She realized.  "Oh!"  She looked at Julia.  "Well, we haven't eaten, either.  Maggie took the children out a little while ago, and we were going to wait for them.  Do you want to stay?"</div> <div> "If it's not too much trouble," he said.  Good.  He was feeling hungry again after all.  He sat down on the piano bench next to Carolyn.  "Beethoven, huh?  No Beatles? No Monkees? No Doors?"</div> <div> Carolyn laughed.  "My family wouldn't approve of that.  I don't have the sheet music.  Can you play the Beatles, Mr. Jazzman?"</div> <div> "Here, move."  He had her scoot over and began to pick out `I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends' on the piano.  Carolyn's eyes widened, and then she laughed with delight.  She hummed along with the song until he stopped.  "What did you learn first?" he asked.  "Chopsticks?"  She nodded.  "Come on, play with me."  Carolyn and Quentin began to play "Chopsticks" together, laughing as they moved faster, trying to outpace each other.</div> <div> "Well, isn't this a cozy sight?"  The voice was harsh and sneering.  Quentin looked up and saw a tall young man leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.  He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, so Quentin knew who he was immediately even before Carolyn said his name.</div> <div> "Jeb!  How did you get in?"</div> <div> "The door wasn't locked."  The man had curly blonde hair and light blue eyes.  He really didn't look too much different than the pre-adolescent Quentin had seen just days earlier.  He sauntered into the room and leaned on the piano.  Quentin realized they were alone; at some point, Julia had gotten up and left.</div> <div> "Do you just make yourself home anywhere?" Carolyn asked incredulously.</div> <div> "When I intend to make it my home I do," Jeb answered, staring intently at Carolyn, who blushed.</div> <div> "Who the hell do you think you are barging in like this?" Quentin roared, angrily.  "And what kind of crap is that-making this your home?"</div> <div> Jeb stood up and looked him up and down coldly.  "And who the hell are you?"</div> <div> Quentin stood up, his face flushed and angry.  Alarmed, Carolyn stood too, putting a restraining hand on Quentin's arm.  "Jeb, this is my cousin, Quentin Collins."</div> <div> "Cousin Quentin?" Jeb spat incredulously. "Why haven't I seen you before?"</div> <div> "Why would you?" Quentin snapped back.  "You don't rate, junior!  And I asked who the hell you think you are barging into someone else's house?"</div> <div> "I'm a good friend of Carolyn's `Cousin Quentin'," Jeb answered in a sneering, contemptuous tone.  "And I needed to tell Carolyn something important about tonight."  When he turned back to Carolyn, his demeanor changed entirely.  He was a man enchanted and entranced.  "I want to pick you up tonight at the Old House.  When do you think you'll be finished with dinner?"</div> <div> "Late," Quentin snapped before Carolyn could answer.  "In fact, I think going out later is a lousy idea.  There's a killer on the loose-did you know that?"  He and Jeb glared at each other.  He wished Jeb would take a swing at him; he was itching to punch him in the nose.</div> <div> "I'll take good care of her," Jeb said softly.</div> <div> "Quentin, please," Carolyn pleaded.  She looked upset; obviously, she didn't want them to fight.</div> <div> For her sake, Quentin backed down.  "Well, I'll drop you at the Old House then," he said grudgingly.  He had no intention of doing that but there was no reason to advertise that fact to Jeb.  Jeb smirked, and Quentin counted to ten.  </div> <div> Jeb turned back to Carolyn and looked at her affectionately. "I'll look forward to seeing you later," he told her softly.</div> <div> Mrs. Johnson came to the door and seemed about to speak, but when Quentin shook his head <I>no</I> at her, she stopped and froze.  "Oh, how nice," Quentin said.  "Mrs. Johnson is here to escort you out-Jeb."</div> <div> Jeb looked at him angrily.  "Nice meeting you, cuz."  He turned and sauntered toward Mrs. Johnson, who looked every bit as frightened of Jeb as she did of Quentin.  </div> <div> As soon as they were gone, Quentin turned to Carolyn and said, "He's not good enough for you."</div> <div> "How do you know?" Carolyn asked, sounding slightly annoyed.  "You don't know him!"</div> <div> Quentin realized that Carolyn was not someone who took advice easily.  "Isn't he the guy that came on to you so strongly?  You were really upset just yesterday."</div> <div> "He apologized," Carolyn answered in a contrary tone.  "He sent me beautiful roses.  He's brash and impulsive-and I find that exciting."  Great, Quentin thought with an inward groan.  She's like me.  She's not thinking straight.   Julia came to the door, looking upset, and said lunch was ready.  "Is Jeb staying for lunch, too?"  Carolyn asked.</div> <div> "Er, no, he had to go back to town," Julia answered.  "Maggie and the children are going to eat later, but our lunch is ready now."</div> <div> Quentin began to wonder if Jeb had put a spell on Carolyn as he accompanied them down the hall to the dining room.  He couldn't imagine that it was any charm on Jeb's part that caused Carolyn's sudden change in attitude toward him.  She hardly seemed to be listening when, after the meal, he told her he'd come around six to pick her up.  She nodded in a vague way that left him worried.</div> <bR> <div> At six sharp, Quentin was back at Collinwood, knocking at the door and praying Mrs. Johnson was still on duty.  He was very happy to see her and asked for Carolyn.  "Oh, I'm sorry," Mrs. Johnson said, looking at him oddly.  "Miss Stoddard left a few minutes ago-she went to the Old House to meet you.  Weren't you to meet there?"</div> <div> "Silly me," Quentin said, feeling his heart thud suddenly.  "Thanks, I better get right over there."  He'd gotten off his bike and walked it up the driveway so that Elizabeth and Roger wouldn't hear it.  He could walk to the Old House in less than fifteen minutes, but he decided to take his bike down the path instead, and the hell with the noise.  As he roared off down the path, he had a glimpse of Elizabeth standing in the doorway again.  He barely put the brake on and turned off the ignition before he was off the bike and running up the steps to pound on the door of the Old House.</div> <div> "Quentin!" Barnabas exclaimed, pulling the door open.  "What on earth is the matter?"</div> <div> "Is Carolyn here?"</div> <div> Barnabas looked surprised.  "Why, no.  Isn't she at Collinwood-?" He broke off, looking alarmed at the expression on Quentin's face.  "What is it?" Quickly, Quentin told his cousin what happened that afternoon.  "Oh, God!  Jeb has her-he didn't trust me, and he's made his move!"</div> <div> "Well, then we have to get her!" Quentin turned to go, but Barnabas pulled him back by the shoulder.</div> <div> "What do you think you're doing?"</div> <div> What a stupid question, Quentin thought irritably.  "Come on-we have to go to the antique shop.  If they're there, we've got to get Carolyn back!"</div> <div> "You can't go!" Barnabas objected.  "You've no idea how powerful Jeb is when he is in his natural state."</div> <div> Quentin stared at his cousin.  He couldn't believe Barnabas was arguing about this when Carolyn was in danger.  "I don't think he'd be in his natural state," he declared.  He couldn't imagine that Jeb would take Carolyn to the antique shop and suddenly change forms without some sort of ceremony-and that couldn't have taken place yet.</div> <div> "I will go," Barnabas argued.  "I will go and borrow Julia's car."</div> <div> "There might not be time!"  Quentin jumped off the steps and ran back to his bike.</div> <div> "Quentin!" Barnabas yelled.  "Don't go to the antique shop-do you hear me?"</div> <div> Quentin ignored him.  Barnabas could catch up with him and help if need be, but he wasn't go to sit around and give Jeb any extra time to change into whatever beastly form he took.  Barnabas came down the stairs and was running toward him when he started the bike and roared off toward Collinsport.  He thought he heard Barnabas yelling at him, but he couldn't make out the words.</div> <bR> <div> The antique shop was almost completely dark when Quentin pulled up in front.  There was a light on in there somewhere, though, and he could see the figure of a man with something-or someone-in his arms.  The door was unopened, and Quentin went in without a thought to his own safety.  He nearly slipped on what he assumed was glass; it was all over the floor.  He could see now that the man was Jeb and that he had Carolyn in his arms.  He was about to take her upstairs.  "What are you doing here?" Jeb yelled at him, outraged.  "Get out!"</div> <div> "I don't think so!" Quentin yelled back, advancing carefully.  The last thing he needed was to slip and fall on glass.   "Put her down, you son of a bitch!"</div> <div> "This is not your business!  You're going to regret getting involved in this!"</div> <div> "Not half as much as you're going to regret putting your dirty hands on my cousin.  I said put her down, you chicken-shit!"</div> <div> With that, Jeb set Carolyn down on the lower landing of the stairs and turned to meet Quentin.  "Oh, you're going to be sorry, my friend," he threatened softly.</div> <div> "I'm not your friend.  Come on, you sissy!" Quentin snapped, goading him.  Jeb rushed him, swinging.  Quentin almost laughed.  Young and strong like a bull Jeb might be, but he had no experience fighting as a human.  Quentin had the experience of street fighting and boxing, and he evaded Jeb's swinging fists easily, while driving his own fists into his opponent's abdomen and ribs.  </div> <div> Jeb had never been hit by anyone in his young life.  He grunted and groaned, apparently shocked that Quentin was not only hitting him but also that it hurt.  This is too easy, Quentin thought, enjoying himself immensely.  This guy is pathetic!  He hit Jeb on the jaw, knocking him to the floor.  This was not a time to play fair.  Once Jeb hit the ground, Quentin gave him several solid, well placed kicks in the ribs.  Jeb screamed.  "You want something to yell about?  Eat this!"  The next kick landed somewhere on Jeb's face.  The back of his head hit the bottom of the stairs, hard, and blood spurted up from his injured face.  He collapsed backwards.  "Fucking wimp!" Quentin spat at him contemptuously.  </div> <div> Realizing that Jeb was unconscious, he quickly turned toward Carolyn.  Jeb must have drugged her, the cowardly bastard, Quentin thought angrily.  He lifted her easily and carried her carefully through the debris on the floor of the shop.  He wondered briefly what the hell they'd been up to.  When he got outside, he felt a little dismayed.  What now?  How could he get Carolyn home? At that moment, Julia's car pulled up, and Barnabas got out of the front passenger seat.  "Thank God!" Quentin exclaimed, carrying Carolyn to the car.</div> <div> "Is she all right?" Barnabas demanded.</div> <div> "I don't know, Barnabas, she was like this when I found her!"  Barnabas pulled the back door open and helped Quentin get Carolyn into the car.  Julia's face was blanched of all color.</div> <div> "Should I take her to the hospital?"  Julia asked.</div> <div> "No, no!" Barnabas snapped.  "There are too many outsiders involved now as it is!  Jeb is after the deputy sheriff as it is."</div> <div> "She's breathing," Quentin informed them.  He put his hand near Carolyn's nose and mouth and felt her breathing; her chest rose and fell slightly.</div> <div> "Where's Jeb?" Barnabas demanded.</div> <div> "In there-he won't be moving around for awhile," Quentin declared.  He felt Barnabas staring at him and looked up.  "What?  Do you want to go check?  I suggest we get Carolyn somewhere where Julia can examine her-quickly!"</div> <div> "He's right, Barnabas," Julia agreed.  "Let's go."</div> <div> "Yes."  Barnabas got back into the front seat and slammed the door.  "We'll take her home, Julia.  Perhaps I can convince Elizabeth to let me take them to Little Windward Island tonight."</div> <div> Quentin thought that would be a very good idea but didn't say anything. No one spoke the rest of the way back to Collinwood.  Julia got out of the car and ran to the door, presumably to get her bag.  Barnabas opened the back door, and Quentin managed to get Carolyn out and into his arms.  She felt like a sack of potatoes; she was totally out cold.  Barnabas preceded Quentin into the house and grabbed Elizabeth by the arms.</div> <div> "My God, what's happened?" Elizabeth cried, panicking.  Behind her was a slim, good looking young woman with long brown hair.  Quentin assumed this was the governess.</div> <div> "Here!" the young woman exclaimed, opening the door to the drawing room.  Quentin carried Carolyn into the room and gently laid her onto the sofa.  He could hear Barnabas talking to Elizabeth in the foyer.  "Did this happen at the antique store?" Quentin looked up at the young woman with the soft voice and nodded.  "That horrid man-Jeb-did this, didn't he?"</div> <div> "That's right," Quentin agreed.  "He was just carrying her up the stairs when I came in."</div> <div> "All right, Quentin," Barnabas said harshly.  "Here is Julia."  Quentin got up, making room for Julia.  His eyes met Barnabas'.  There was some kind of warning in his cousin's eyes-he didn't want the governess to know what happened.  Julia bent over Carolyn, opening her eyes and flashing a light into them.</div> <div> "Oh, Carolyn!" Elizabeth cried out.  Barnabas took her by the arms and led her from the room.</div> <div> "Is she drugged?"  the governess asked.</div> <div> "It appears that way, Maggie," Julia replied.  "I think she'll be all right-it's hard to tell without taking her to the emergency room.  I think she was given a strong sedative."</div> <div> "What can we do?" Maggie asked, looking very concerned.</div> <div> Julia grimaced.  "Wait.  I don't know what she was given.  Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't strong enough to really hurt her."</div> <div> Quentin agreed with that assessment.  Maybe she hadn't been cooperating and Jeb found it necessary to knock her out in order to get her up to that room.  If that was the case, he'd gotten there just in time.  He felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body.  He was ready to fight again, but he felt pretty good. I did something right and did it well for a change, he thought to himself, feeling cocky and proud of himself.</div> <div> "Quentin," Barnabas called softly from the doorway.  Quentin turned and saw his cousin beckoning.  He couldn't help any further here, so he went to see what Barnabas wanted.  Maybe they would go back and burn the damn antique shop down; that would be fun.  "Elizabeth is most upset about Carolyn.  Under the circumstances, I didn't want to tell her the entire truth.  I told her that Carolyn collapsed at the antique shop.  I want you to go and talk to her."</div> <div> That was totally unexpected.  "Why?" he asked, surprised and dismayed.  This was the last thing he expected Barnabas to say.</div> <div> "You were worried that the family hated you.  Well, Elizabeth sees now that you are not the ghost that haunted this family.  She has reason to feel kindly toward you now.  This is a good time to make a connection with this family again," Barnabas answered softly.</div> <div> "I don't know," Quentin began reluctantly.  The urge to fight had suddenly been replaced by a strong desire to run.</div> <div> Barnabas took him by the elbow stubbornly and pulled him into the foyer.  "She is in the study.  Go and talk to her!"  Quentin turned to argue again, but Barnabas snapped, "Stop wasting time!  She is waiting to talk to you-she is nervous about this, too!  Do as I tell you and I assure you everything will be fine!" Oh, all right, Quentin thought, aggrieved.  As he turned toward the study, he heard Barnabas say, "When you and Julia are sure that Carolyn is all right, I want you to come to the Old House."</div> <div> "All right," he said, resigned.  If he hadn't been distracted by the prospect of seeing Elizabeth he might have asked where Barnabas was going.  He walked down the hall and knocked softly at the door of the study.</div> <div> "Come in, the door is open," Elizabeth called nervously.</div> <div> Quentin opened the door and came into the room tentatively.  He realized that Barnabas was right.  Elizabeth was every bit as nervous as he was.  "Hello," he said, feeling timid.</div> <div> "Quentin," Elizabeth greeted him softly.  "Please come in and sit down."  She was seated in a chair by the fire, and he took the seat opposite her.  He was suddenly struck by her resemblance to Ruth-and to him.  He couldn't see any of Jamison in her at all.  Ruth's hair had been dark and her eyes a soft violet color.  "I wanted to thank you for what you did to help Carolyn."</div> <div> He wasn't sure he would be able to speak intelligibly, but he finally managed to say, "You don't have to thank me."</div> <div> "I'm afraid we haven't been very hospitable," Elizabeth began, looking uncomfortable.  "I feel that we should have invited you to come and have dinner with us-" she broke off, looking toward the window.</div> <div> "What's wrong?" he asked, looking around.</div> <div> "I thought I saw something," she answered faintly.</div> <div> Quentin got up quickly and went to the window, drawing back the curtain.  Part of the garden was lit with a spotlight-apparently the family had picked a tree and decorated it.  The spotlight was focused on the tree, but Quentin could see the area well.  He didn't see anyone skulking around.  "Might have been the shadow of a deer," he suggested.</div> <div> "Yes, I'm sure," Elizabeth agreed.  "Won't you sit down for a few minutes with me now?  I'd like to hear about your branch of the family."  Quentin came back and sat down across from her again, feeling uncomfortable.  She was looking at him kindly now, her eyes friendly and warm.  "Would you like to have a brandy-or coffee, perhaps?"</div> <div> Brandy-that sounded good.  He thought better of it and smiled at Elizabeth.  "Coffee-that would be perfect."  He talked to Elizabeth about Nora's family until Julia came to let them know that Carolyn was coming to.  He was sure he had Elizabeth thoroughly charmed now; she was talking about inviting him and Miss Corey to Christmas dinner as Julia came to the door.  Quentin was relieved not to have to commit himself.  He had no idea how Amanda would feel about that.  They got up to check on Carolyn.</div> <div> Carolyn was dazed and confused, but she felt fine otherwise.  "How did I get here?" she asked, looking at the three of them.</div> <div> "You fainted," Quentin explained.  "I brought you home." Carolyn frowned, obviously wondering how he'd gotten there.  He thought it would be best to talk to Barnabas before going any further with this story, so he took her hand and said, "Look, you probably need to rest.  I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"</div> <div> "All right," Carolyn agreed softly, still looking puzzled.  Elizabeth escorted Julia and Quentin to the door; Julia said she was going to take Quentin back to the Inn.</div> <div> Once they were outside, Quentin whispered, "We're supposed to go see Barnabas."</div> <div> "Yes, I know," Julia whispered back.  "But Elizabeth isn't supposed to know that.  Get in the car.  I'll take us down the driveway and then turn down to the Old House."  Elizabeth wouldn't notice, they were sure.</div> <bR> <div> Barnabas was waiting for them impatiently.  He was standing at his window looking out when Julia pulled up, and he met them on the portico.  He brought them into the drawing room.  Without preamble, he announced, "We are going to have to move Elizabeth and Carolyn tonight."</div> <div> "Elizabeth is agreeable?" Julia asked.</div> <div> "Yes, I was able to talk to her while you were tending Carolyn," Barnabas answered.  "It seems Elizabeth is terribly concerned because she has not yet met Jeb.  She is afraid she has somehow fallen out of favor with him.  I assured her this was not so.  She was afraid for Carolyn's safety-that Carolyn herself might be in some kind of danger."  Barnabas paused.  "Well, I had to lie to her.  I told her that she was not, but that I felt that her grief for her father had become too much for her and that it would be better if they left town for a few days."</div> <div> "That was probably wise, under the circumstances," Julia agreed.</div> <div> "Yes," Barnabas said flatly, looking at Quentin.  "Elizabeth doesn't know this yet, but  Roger has decided to take David to Boston.  The boy is having troubling nightmares, seeing Paul Stoddard everywhere.  I thought you were going to try and exorcise him, Quentin."</div> <div> "I'm sorry," Quentin muttered.  "He isn't responding to me."</div> <div> "Well, at any rate, it is better for David to be away.  I am hoping that Chris will be able to take Amy away for the holidays, too."</div> <div> The whole family is scattering, Quentin thought.  He only half-listened as Barnabas talked of taking Elizabeth and Carolyn to Little Windward Island in a few hours.  He wanted Quentin to get his motorcycle and follow them to the ferry.  "From there, you go to New York."</div> <div> Barnabas had Quentin's complete attention again.  "I'm going to New York?  What are you doing?"</div> <div> "Never mind that now, and don't argue with me," Barnabas answered abruptly.  He began to turn to Julia, who was trying to signal to Quentin to be quiet.</div> <div> Quentin, however, was angry to be dismissed so abruptly.  "I'm not going to New York!  What about that thing?"</div> <div> "I will deal with him," Barnabas answered with obvious irritation even though he was trying to sound patient.</div> <div> "If he finds out what you've been doing, your life is in danger!"</div> <div> "He knows what you've been doing, and your life is in danger now," Barnabas pointed out.  "Now, Quentin, I have had enough trouble trying to reason with Jeb-don't give me a hard time about this!"</div> <div> Quentin thought he understood.  Barnabas couldn't get Jeb to cooperate with him. He was determined to make someone obey him and that someone was Quentin.  However, even understanding didn't make Quentin tractable; his cousin's attitude only made him feel more contrary.  "I'm not running away with my tail between my legs and leaving you here alone, Barnabas!"</div> <div> Barnabas moved suddenly and swiftly, grabbing Quentin and swinging him around, forcing him into the chair by the fire.  Quentin was taken by surprise.  Barnabas' face was only inches from his, and he looked positively ferocious in the firelight.  "Oh, yes you are!  I will make you go if I have to!"</div> <div> His cousin's intensity was intimidating, but Quentin set his jaw stubbornly.  What did Barnabas think he was going to do to make him go?  Looking into Barnabas' eyes, Quentin realized that his cousin meant business and would fight him if he felt it was necessary.  I don't want to fight him, he thought, but I don't want to leave either.  He thought, trying to figure a way out of this without seeming to give in like a cowed child.</div> <div> Julia seemed to realize that the confrontation was about to become physical.  She said, "Quentin, I am going away for the holidays-I'm going to see my aunt in Providence.  I agreed to it because I think it would take the pressure off Barnabas if we were safely away."</div> <div> Quentin glanced at her.  "Oh, yeah?"  He wasn't sure he believed her.  As Julia spoke, Barnabas let go of Quentin and straightened up, taking a deep breath.  He gave Julia a look of gratitude.</div> <div> "Look, sweetie, with everyone out of town, the pressure on Barnabas would be reduced considerably.  I think Jeb would be trying to find Carolyn, and the less of us who are around to tell him or to let something slip, the better."</div> <div> "Well," Quentin grumbled.  This was the best way out of the confrontation without looking silly so he grudgingly took it.  "When do we all come back?"</div> <div> "After Christmas," Julia answered, looking at Barnabas.</div> <div> "Yes, I'm sure I can hold Jeb off that long," Barnabas said.  </div> <div> "All right, maybe I can summon Paul Stoddard from New York and tell him he's haunting the wrong person."  Quentin stood up.  "Julia?  You want to give me a ride into town-I'll get my bike."</div> <div> "Sure, come on," Julia said, smiling with obvious relief.</div> <div> Quentin and Barnabas exchanged looks.  Barnabas looked relieved, too.  Quentin had a feeling he was being had and didn't like it.  "If you run into trouble, I hope you'll call me," he said finally.  "I'll leave my number here."</div> <div> "Thank you, Quentin," Barnabas said, putting his hand on Quentin's shoulder.  "I appreciate that-you may not realize how much, but I do."</div> <div> "Aren't you worried about the thing attacking me when I go to get my bike?" Quentin wondered as Barnabas walked with him to the door.</div> <div> Barnabas smiled.  "I rather think he will be occupied the rest of the night in his natural state mending himself."  He patted Quentin on the back approvingly, and Quentin smiled back.  Good, he thought.  He hoped it took all night for the pretty boy to mend himself.</div> <bR> <div> Quentin pulled up to Julia's car, which was parked at the ferry stop.  He'd followed a discreet distance behind her car so that Elizabeth and Carolyn wouldn't realize he was coming along, too.  Julia lit a cigarette and was smoking.  He got into the passenger side to wait with her.  She'd left the car running because it was so cold outside.  "How long do you think he'll be?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Not very long," Julia answered.  "He's just going to leave them there and come right back."  She sighed.  "Carolyn kept asking why she was being sent away."</div> <div> "I think she's under a spell, don't you?" Quentin asked.  "Do you have another of those, Julia?"</div> <div> Julia looked at him, surprised.  "Of course," she answered, fumbling around in her large purse for her pack of cigarettes.  "I didn't know you smoked."</div> <div> "Once in a while."  He shook a cigarette out of her pack and used the tip of hers to light his own, taking a deep puff. He handed her cigarette back.  Too bad it wasn't grass, he thought.  That was more relaxing.  Still, he found an occasional smoke calmed his nerves sometimes.  "Are you really going to Providence, Julia?"</div> <div> Julia smiled.  "Don't you trust me?"</div> <div> He laughed.  "Implicitly.  Come on.  Are you?"</div> <div> "I can give you the number if you like," she said, very seriously.</div> <div> He considered.  He was about to say no and then changed his mind.  What if she was telling the truth?  What if he needed to talk to her?  "Okay," he said.</div> <div> Again Julia rummaged into her purse, looking for a pencil and a piece of paper this time.  She scrawled out a name and phone number and gave it to him.  "I'll get there sometime tomorrow evening," she said.</div> <div> "So you have an aunt, huh?" he asked, curious now.  "What about your parents?"</div> <div> "They both died," Julia answered.  "My aunt is my mother's youngest sister.  My mother's family is from Providence, you see.  My father's family is Austrian.  She met him overseas.  She was studying in Vienna, and they married there.  They moved to Providence before the war started."</div> <div> Quentin didn't say anything, wondering if he should tell Julia that he remembered her mother and father very well and had liked them very much.  He decided it was a bad idea.  "I'm sorry your parents died," he said finally.</div> <div> Julia smiled self-consciously.  "Don't be.  They had a long life together."  Before he could ask what happened to them, she changed the subject by asking, "Are you going to Amanda, then?"</div> <div> "Yes, I guess so," he answered.  "I don't have anywhere else to go right now.  I haven't had any more messages from Jenny."</div> <div> "Jenny?" Julia's voice was curious.  "Yes, you mentioned that you were having dreams-that's why you returned."</div> <div> He smoked moodily, staring out the window.  "I haven't gotten very far with helping Chris.  I saw you reading a book.  Did it tell you anything useful?"</div> <div> "Not really.  I was just reading up on it.  You traveled all around, Barnabas said.  You weren't able to get much information, either?"</div> <div> "Nah, I need to find a gypsy interpreter I guess," Quentin said glumly.  "No one wanted to talk to me over there."</div> <div> "You know, I wanted to ask you about something you say Jenny told you," Julia began.  Before she could finish her question, though, Barnabas appeared on the next to the car, and she gave a frightened gasp.</div> <div> "Jeez, Julia!" Quentin exclaimed, his cigarette dropping from his hand.  He caught it before it hit the floor.</div> <div> "Barnabas, you gave me such a fright!" Julia exclaimed.  "I didn't see you returning."</div> <div> "It's dark," Barnabas answered in a what-did-you-expect tone.  He came around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.</div> <div> "Did everything go all right?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "They are safe, and they are going to stay the week.  Mr. Rumson is away on business.  I persuaded Angelique to let them stay on even after she flies down to New York to meet him."</div> <div> "Oh, she's going to be in New York City?" Quentin asked, a little dismayed.</div> <div> "With her husband, yes," Barnabas said, emphasizing the word husband.</div> <div> Quentin nodded.  In a city that big, it was unlikely they'd run into each other.  He hoped.  He turned toward Julia.  "I guess I'll get going.  Merry Christmas, Julia."</div> <div> Julia put her arms around his neck and hugged him.  He hugged her back and she kissed his cheek.  "Merry Christmas, Quentin."</div> <div> He got out of the car and shook hands with Barnabas.  "Merry Christmas, cuz," he said.  "See you next year, I guess."  He laughed at the expression on Barnabas' face.  "That's if I don't get back until New Year's Day-get it?  It'll be 1970."</div> <div> Barnabas smiled, looking rather confused.  "I see."  Quentin wasn't sure that he did.  "Merry Christmas, cousin."  Quentin got out, waited for his cousin to get in, and then shut the door.  He watched Julia back up and then head back toward Collinsport.  He threw the cigarette down and ground it out.  When he got on his bike, the car was gone.  He started the bike, heading south toward Portland.</div> <div> It was late when he pulled up in front of Mrs. Bailey's house.  He still had his key; the room was still his through next month.  Mrs. Bailey's lights were out, but that was all right.  He had his own entrance, up the stairs in back of the house.  His room was actually an efficiency apartment.  He could have privacy if he chose but he also was welcome to come down and see Mrs. Bailey if he wanted to.  Sometimes they would play cards; he knew she didn't get out much because of the arthritis in her hips.  If it wasn't so late, he'd go down and say hello to her, but he could always do that in the morning before leaving for the airport.</div> <div> Feeling warmer, he picked up the phone and called Amanda.  "Oh, Quentin, I'm so glad to hear your voice!" she exclaimed happily, her voice sounding a little slurred.  There was music playing in the background.</div> <div> "Are you having a party?" he asked, amused.</div> <div> "Just a few friends from the show-for the holidays, y'know," she answered.</div> <div> "Listen, would you be able to pick me up from the airport?  I'm coming in tomorrow."</div> <div> "Oh!" she squealed loudly into his ear.  "Yes, of course!  What time?"</div> <div> He didn't know-he hadn't even made the reservation yet.  "Uh-I'll call and leave the information at the desk, all right?"</div> <div> "Oh, Quentin, I'm so happy!  I've got an apartment for us-that is, if you like it.  You can come and see it before we sign the lease!  It's so beautiful-I hope you'll love it.  And oh! We've been invited to a party at Martin Lord's-he's a producer, did you know that?"   Amanda chatted on happily for another few minutes before he was able to interrupt and let her know he wanted to get to bed.  "This early?" </div> <div> "Well, look at it this way," he said indulgently.  "The sooner I get to bed, the earlier I can get up.  The earlier I get up, the earlier I can get a flight to New York.  The earlier I do that, the sooner you can pick me up.  The sooner you can pick me up, the quicker we can get back to the hotel."  He paused and then went on suggestively, "The sooner we get back to the hotel…"</div> <div> "Yes?" Amanda giggled, prompting him.</div> <div> "The sooner I can get you undressed," he continued.</div> <div> "Mmmhmm," she agreed, "and of course, I'll be unbuttoning your shirt as you carry me to the bed.  And when you unhook my bra and you see my breasts-" </div> <div> "I'll suck on them," he continued, feeling very warm and very aroused.</div> <div> "I'll unzip your pants and reach inside," Amanda continued.</div> <div> "Amanda, are you alone?" he asked hoarsely.</div> <div> "Not exactly-we'll have to continue our conversation privately.  I'll be thinking about you tonight-right here, where I'm the most warm, you know what I mean?"</div> <div> "I'll be thinking about you, too," he said to her, feeling all the blood rushing below his waist.  He wished he had Amanda here now.  He hung up, unzipping his pants so that he was more comfortable.  He threw himself on the bed, thinking about Amanda, naked, stroking himself.  He shuddered with pleasure.  It would be even better tomorrow when he saw her.</div> <div> Later in the night, though, he dreamed again.  He was in a dark stairwell, being hurried along down the stairs.  He knew there was a car waiting to take him to safety.  "Wo ist Beth? Werden wir Beth erhalten? " He was speaking to Rolf as they ran down the steps.  Rolf's half-gasped answer filled him with despair: "Ich weiß nicht! Ich weiß nicht, wohin ihr sie genommen wird. Hast, müssen Sie sich beeilen!"  They weren't going to get Beth because Rolf didn't know where she'd been taken. </div> <div> <I>As Rolf pushed Quentin into the back of the car and jumped in after him, Quentin mumbled in abject despair, "Lassen Sie mich, dann. Ich möchte nicht ohne sie gehen!"</I></div> <div> <I>"Leave you?  Don't be a bluidy fool, then!" Quentin looked up.  The man beside the driver turned to glare at him.  "Ye don't think we've risked ourselves just to leave ye behind, then?  Are ye daft?  Have ye any idea what they're planning to do, then?"</I></div> <div> <I>"I don't care," Quentin muttered as the car sped off.</I></div> <div> <I>"There's others who do, so just sit back and enjoy the ride, then, eh?"</I></div> <div> <I>It was the bridge he saw then, Amanda on the other side.  He was coaxing her to come to him, but she was afraid, afraid.  She got part way across and the bridge broke.  This time, he touched her hand, her eyes widening with shock and despair.  She slipped from his grasp and went tumbling down and down, out of sight, out of his grasp…</I></div> <div> He bolted up in the bed, gasping for air.  He was drenched with sweat, and threw all the blankets off.  He got up and walked back and forth, shivering.  If only I could make those damned dreams go away! He thought.  If he wasn't dreaming about Beth, then it was Petofi, and if it wasn't that, then it was Jenny, haranguing him to help Chris, help Chris!  "I can't help anyone!" he shouted, hitting the wall with his fist.  It hurt, and he cursed and swore at himself for his own stupidity.  </div> <div> He hoped he hadn't disturbed Mrs. Bailey, although when he did have terrible dreams like this he noticed that she was extra kind to him in the morning.  She would usually call him up and invite him to come down for breakfast.  She understands about demons, he thought, and laughed helplessly.  What would she know about that-a nice lady like her?  </div> <div> Shaking his hand and then blowing on his sore fingers, his eye fell on the drawer by the bed.  He and Amanda had stopped here to pick up his photo albums, but they hadn't gotten them all.  He'd left the pictures of him and Beth behind.  He sat down on the bed beside the drawer and slowly pulled it open, pulling out the photo album and looked at it without opening it.  He sat for a long time and then gently returned the album to the drawer and closed it, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.</div> <bR> <div> When the phone rang about ten the next morning, Quentin wasn't surprised to find Mrs. Bailey inviting him downstairs for breakfast.  He went down, taking the opportunity to wish her a Merry Christmas and to let her know he was going to spend the holiday in New York City.  She was enthusiastic about the beautiful woman he'd brought-he was going to spend the holidays with her, then?  Mrs. Bailey seemed very pleased.  Quentin was very subdued on his flight down to New York.</div> <div> If Amanda noticed, she was too excited to care.  She flung herself on top of Quentin, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately.  He put his arms around her, returning the kiss and realizing that he was very glad to see her after all.  He put the dream and the photo album out of his mind and thought about their phone conversation.  He knew that was where Amanda's mind was.  He was surprised to feel her hand move down his back to grasp his backside.  He returned the favor and she giggled into his ear.  They totally ignored the cabdriver, who studiously ignored them as they groped each other in the back seat.  </div> <div> As soon as they got into the room, Quentin kicked the door shut, and they were stripping each other bare as they moved toward the bed.  "Slow down, darling, I have a surprise for you underneath my slip," Amanda whispered to him.  She backed away and slowly pulled the garment off.  Squealing, she backed up and fell on the bed as Quentin, thoroughly aroused by the red silk panties and bra she was wearing, practically leaped on her.  She didn't seem to mind, giggling and laughing as Quentin caressed her through the fabric.  Silk! He wasn't able to think rationally at all anymore.  Amanda's giggles changed to squeals of pleasure and then sighs of passion until Quentin finally moved between her thighs and slid into her.</div> <div> Quentin felt as if he was on fire.  He'd made sure he brought her to a climax at least once before entering her because he knew he would not be able to wait for her.  He moved her legs to his shoulders so that he could thrust into her deeply.  She encouraged him; she liked it this way very much.  When he finally collapsed on her, he told her, "You are so hot, Amanda."</div> <div> "It's just that I missed you," Amanda purred.</div> <div> He managed to chuckle.  "That puts me between a rock and a hard place, doesn't it?  I don't think I want to wait a couple of days to do this again-"</div> <div> "Well, we don't have to," Amanda sighed contentedly, putting her arms around him.  "I have something for you just for Christmas-something for me to wear, I mean."</div> <div> "But that's not until Thursday," he objected.  "You're not going to make me wait that long, are you?"</div> <div> "No, I plan on us making love every day.  But you have to wait until Christmas for your treat," Amanda replied, her eyes alight with excitement.  "I hope you'll get something nice for me."</div> <div> Oh, that's right, Quentin thought.  He still hadn't gotten anything for her but considering her reaction to the pearl earrings he thought he couldn't go wrong with more jewelry.  A gold charm bracelet, maybe, he thought she might like that.  "We're going to have so much fun," she whispered into his ear.</div> <div> "Mmmmm!"  He was anticipating more fun-more sex-with Amanda.  It's about time I had a little fun for a while, he thought, and put all thoughts of Beth, Chris, Jenny, Barnabas, Julia and the thing-in-the-box right out of his head.</div> <bR> <div> He liked the apartment Amanda had chosen.  It had eight light and airy rooms with a beautiful view of Central Park.  Amanda was delighted that he approved.  "We can move in on the first," she told him.  "Oh, I'm so excited!  I put a deposit down so that the apartment would be held for me!  Should we get just a one year lease?"</div> <div> "Uh, well, if you think you'd use it a year," he answered.  "Amanda, the lease ought to be in your name. You have your reputation to think about.  I mean, I know everyone would see me going in and out of here, but it's one thing to be able to say I'm a close friend; it's another to have it on paper that I'm living with you.  What about your career?"</div> <div> Amanda put her hands to her face.  "Oh!  You're right, of course!  How clever of you to think of that!" He held back a sigh of relief.  Then she said, "Why don't we get married?"</div> <div> He'd been dreading that.  "I think we should wait, don't you?"</div> <div> She looked at him suspiciously.  "You don't want to?"</div> <div> "Amanda, let's get to really know each other again first.  Don't you think that's a good idea?  What if we rush into marriage and then you decide you really can't stand me after all?"</div> <div> Amanda scoffed.  "That's just ridiculous!  I've always loved you!"  She looked at him doubtfully.  "You're not sure you love me, are you?"</div> <div> "I do love you," he told her.  That was true.  He did feel love for her, or maybe it was lust-or were they the same?  He definitely felt touched and grateful that she'd been searching for him all this time.  "This just isn't the time.  You're starting this new soap, and you don't know how long that's going to last.  I may be sent away on an assignment-and I did want to help you find your family first.  If you have family wouldn't they want to come?"</div> <div> She looked at him steadily, and he hated himself for lying to her like that.  Worse, she knew he was being evasive and lying.  He thought she was going to cry, but she bit her lip and nodded.  "You're right, Quentin," she said very softly.  "You are so very clever, you know that?"</div> <div> "Too much for my own good," he answered miserably, and she looked at him sharply.</div> <div> "We can start moving in between Christmas and New Year's-that's what Mr. Reingold said.  I want to stop off and talk to him-sign a lease in my name.  I'll get some movers for my things."</div> <div> "I can do that for you," he offered.  "You won't have to pay anything.  Where are your things?"</div> <div> "I have an apartment in LA," she answered, "but I think I want to keep that.  You never know.  Most of my things are in storage."  She paused.  "I haven't wanted to put roots down," she finally continued.</div> <div> Now he really felt awful.  "Give me the address and I'll arrange for the movers," he offered.  "I have lots of friends, lots of connections.  It won't cost anything."</div> <div> She smiled and then kissed him lightly.  "You're sweet."  She turned and walked toward the living room window, which had the prettiest view.  "You'll marry me-I'll make you see that you can't live without me.  You'll see."  She went on in a determined way.  He walked to her side and put his arm around her, pulling her to him.  She held on tightly.</div> <bR> <div> After that one uncomfortable incident, Amanda didn't mention marriage again.  She wanted to hear everything about the thing-in-the-box and as soon as he told her, she seemed to lose interest immediately, chatting over her hopes that her role would continue past the first six weeks.  Over the next few days, she teased Quentin unmercifully, arousing him over and over.  They were in bed more often than they were out of it.  He was thoroughly sated two days before Christmas.  Amanda was telling him all about the party they'd been invited to.  She'd mentioned it earlier-it would be at the home of some producer named Martin Lord.  He had a home out east on Long Island, she explained.  Looking at him carefully, she said, "It'll be an LA style party."</div> <div> "What's that?" he asked.  He'd never heard of it before.</div> <div> "Well," Amanda answered evasively, "think of it as a smorgasbord."</div> <div> He was intrigued now.  What did that mean?  Food?  Casual sex?  They dressed formally and went out to the producer's home in a rented limo.  The house was filled with the festive rich and famous-and not so famous.  Quentin recognized many of the guests but there were also many he didn't know.  Amanda introduced him around, and he began to mingle.  He wondered what Amanda meant by `smorgasbord' and almost asked when he noticed people going in and out of a room off the main dining hall.</div> <div> Curious, he left Amanda talking with a young man named Bruno Hess.  The guy looked like a real sissy, Quentin thought.  Besides, he wanted to see what was in the room.  It was a drug dealer's paradise, he discovered.  There were small bowls of pills and white powder set out on a serving table.  People helped themselves-mostly to the pills-and then left.  I get it, Quentin thought, feeling disappointed.  He'd thought it would be something more exciting. It figures that everything would be offered here-food, drinks, cigarettes,  and the illegal drug of your choice.  He wondered if there were any acid tablets around; he didn't see any.  He liked a little pot now and then; he'd tried other drugs throughout his years of wandering and didn't care for most of them.  Opium was all right but not readily available.  He didn't see any here.</div> <div> He went back into the main room, looking for Amanda.  She and the sissy had moved on.  "Hel-lo!" a woman's voice exclaimed in his ear.  He turned to find himself face to face with a chesty, attractive red head.  He never objected talking to a beautiful woman.  He mingled and talked to other people, too, recognizing a writer that he respected.  He talked to that gentleman for almost a half-hour.  He saw Amanda and Bruno Hess emerging from the drug store and made his way over to her.  </div> <div> "Hi, darling," Amanda said gaily, sniffing a little.</div> <div> Quentin suddenly put it together, remembering the night Amanda had gone into the bathroom at the hotel and then sniffled and rubbed her nose.  She was snorting coke.  He was shocked but this was not the time or place to ask her about it.  Cocaine was bad stuff, just about as bad as heroin.  He remembered his old friend Cholly, a skilled saxophone player, who'd tried so hard to quit his heroin habit.  Cholly died young, his good looks gone, just before Quentin left for Vienna.  "Hi, baby, having a good time?" he asked.  Obviously she was.</div> <div> The young man excused himself and walked off.  "Poor thing, he just can't make a go of it," Amanda said softly, with contempt.</div> <div> "Who is he, anyway?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "A would-like-to-be," Amanda answered, with the same contemptuous air.</div> <div> "A what?"</div> <div> "He wants to be important," Amanda explained.  "Famous.   Rich.  He'll never be.  He's just a lackey."</div> <div> Quentin looked after the young man in question.  "I thought he kind of looked like a sissy," he commented, and Amanda laughed.  He promptly forgot Bruno Hess.</div> <bR> <div> In the remaining days before Christmas, Quentin took Amanda to see "The Nutcracker" ballet one evening and to the Rockettes show the next.  He asked her if she wanted to go to a church for Christmas Eve service and was relieved when she said no.  He called Collinwood to see if anyone was there; Mrs. Johnson told him testily that the entire family was away except for Mr. Barnabas and Maggie.  If he liked, she would put on her coat and give him Quentin's message-or she would send Maggie to do it.  "No, don't do that," Quentin protested.  "Wait until he comes around.  Oh-and Merry Christmas, Mrs. Johnson."  She grumpily wished him the same.  Quentin fervently hoped Maggie had somewhere else to go for the holidays; he couldn't imagine they'd be very merry around Mrs. Johnson.</div> <div> "Everyone is safe," Amanda said, on her way in to take a leisurely bath.</div> <div> "So far," he agreed.  He thought he would call Julia's aunt just for the heck of it, but there was no answer.  He knocked on the door.  "You want some company?" he asked Amanda, beginning to pull his shoes off.</div> <div> "Sure!" she called back.  "Come on in!  The water's just perfect!"</div> <div> He grinned.  He hadn't looked forward to the holidays this much in years.</div> <bR> <div> They spent Christmas Day in bed, making love, opening presents, watching Christmas movies, and making love again.  Room service brought up their meals.  The only thing that marred the holiday was the cocaine Amanda brought out.  "Do you want to try a line?" she asked Quentin.</div> <div> "No, I tried that stuff before," he said.  He watched her use a matchbook to expertly shape the white powder into a straight line.  She leaned over and closed one nostril with her finger.  He grimaced.  </div> <div> She happened to catch his expression in the mirror.  "You don't approve, I know you don't," she said sulkily.  "You didn't care about the pot-that can give you lung cancer."</div> <div> He had to concede that was true.  "It's not as addicting as coke is," he pointed out.  "And it eats out your membranes," he added.  "That's why you do this a lot."  He made a sniffing sound, imitating her.</div> <div> "Oh, I don't do that!" Amanda objected irritably.  "Quentin, don't hassle me about this.  A lot of people in show business do this, and it's harmless."</div> <div> "I know a lot of people in show business do it, and it's not harmless."</div> <div> She put her hands on her hips.  "How do you know if you don't like to use it?"</div> <div> He told her about Cholly, his dead friend.  "He was better looking than me, Amanda," he said.  He didn't know if that was true or not, but Cholly had been a handsome guy.  When they went into speakeasies together, everyone's heads turned to watch them-and they always had women draped all over them.  Cholly's sexuality had nothing to do with his drug addiction Quentin believed and so he didn't tell Amanda about the experimenting they did with sex and drugs.  He did tell her that Cholly had trouble getting gigs in the late 20s.  </div> <div> He tried to kick the habit several times.  Once he stayed in Baltimore with Quentin and his family, locked in a room, violently ill and shaking with spasms from withdrawal symptoms.  Beth took care of him almost around the clock, sponging his face, cleaning him up, and always speaking soothingly to him.  Cholly was hallucinating and thought she was his mother.  It was a pity because Cholly had begun to reconcile with his family; his parents rejected him because he didn't marry and settle down and start a family.  Cholly was a homosexual.  Just when his parents were willing to see him again, they realized he was also a drug addict and gave up on him all together.  </div> <div> Amanda listened quietly, looking a little frightened, and then asked, "What happened to him?"</div> <div> "He died of an overdose, died in my other friend Dave's arms.  Dave called me to tell me-he was all choked up about it."</div> <div> "And this Dave-he didn't use drugs?"</div> <div> Quentin smiled with affection, remembering his old friend.  "He was too smart, ole Dave was.  He knew what that shit would do to you.  No, the worst Dave did was drink a little too much scotch."</div> <div> "And what happened to him?" Amanda asked.</div> <div> "Oh, he opened a music store," Quentin said with a sigh.  "He was shot and killed during one of the riots in Harlem a few years ago.  It was some kind of accidental shooting-his grandson was out on the street coming to the store when the trouble started, and Dave was afraid the police were going to think the kid was involved in it.  I hadn't seen him in years."</div> <div> The call came some time after the national news was over, and Quentin was pecking away at a typewriter, working on an article.  "Is this, um, Mr. Grant Douglas?" the feminine voice on the other end of the phone sounded blurred with tears.</div> <div> <I>"Yes, may I help you?" he asked impatiently.</I></div> <div> <I>"Mr. Douglas, I don't know who you are but I'm callin you because my brother wanted it this way.  My name is Mary Margaret Bayliss."</I></div> <div> <I>It all came back at once.  It was a hot evening, too hot to sleep, and he sat on the fire escape with Dave's youngest sister.  He remembered how beautiful she was; how sweet she tasted when he kissed her.  "What happened to Dave?" he asked, knowing that it must be bad.</I></div> <div> <I>Her voice catching with tears, Mary Margaret explained that Dave sent his grandson to the corner deli for some lunch when the rioting broke out.  The streets were filled with people running and the police.  Concerned, Dave ran out of his store, leaving it unattended and ran up the street to fetch his grandson and make sure that he was safe.  "Everyone done say it was an accident," Mary Margaret concluded, sounding a little bitter.  "There's gonna be an investigation, but I don't expect nothing will come out of it.  Anyway, there was somethin he wanted you to have, and I need your address so I can send it to you."</I></div> <div> Numbly, Quentin provided the address.  He went to the service but watched it from his parked car.  It wasn't just the fact that he would draw undue attention to himself. He was afraid Mary Margaret would recognize him.  He and Dave wrote to each other and spoke on the phone, but he hadn't seen his old friend in at least ten years.  Now it was too late.  Later in the week, the package came from New York. Carefully, he lifted Dave's shiny trumpet out of its case and began to cry, not for the first or the last time.</div> <div> "I'm sorry about your friend," Amanda said softly, touching her forehead to his.  She stroked his arm.  After a moment, she complained, "This is too depressing for Christmas."   She shook him a little. "Come on, darling.  If you don't want the coke, I have some pot.  That'll  cheer you up."</div> <div> He grimaced.  "No, thanks."</div> <div> Amanda became irritable now.  "I just thought it would help you forget your friend.  I'm not like this Cholly person.  I am not hooked on cocaine or pot.  I don't have to use it.  If you don't want me to, I won't."</div> <div> "I don't want you to," he said flatly, thinking that he didn't want to forget about Dave or Cholly.  </div> <div> "All right. I won't use it-with you," she said.  When he started to object, she said, "The day you put a ring on my finger I'll give it up forever-all right?"</div> <div> He looked at her curiously.  "How long have you been using this stuff?"</div> <div> "Not that long," she said, a little defensively.  "It's expensive."</div> <div> "Did you ever use heroin?"</div> <div> She didn't answer for a moment.  Then she said, "Not like your friend.  I would never shoot that stuff into my veins."  She pouted again.  "Oh, come on, let's not ruin Christmas, all right?  I love my new bracelet.  Put it on me."  She got back onto the bed, searching for the box.</div> <div> "All right," he agreed.   He didn't want to ruin the day, either.   She seemed to handle herself all right with the drugs and as long as she kept her promise, he wasn't going to worry about it when he had so many other things on his mind.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> "Psst, young man!  Wake up!" the man hissed.</div> <div> Quentin opened his eyes, startled, looking up into the face of an older man with white hair and moustache.  His face was lined with worry.  "Who are you?"  Quentin asked, puzzled.  He looked around.  "Where's Jenny?  Jenny's the one who comes and talks to me in my dreams."</div> <div> "Yes, well, she and I agreed that, since you called me here and since my need was more urgent at the moment, I should come and speak to you in her stead.  She hasn't forgotten about you, though.  She said to tell you that."</div> <div> "<I>Who</I> are you?" Quentin asked, wondering if he was finally losing his mind.  This man did not look familiar at all.  "You say I called you?"</div> <div> "Yes-at the Old House.  I'm Paul Stoddard."</div> <div> Quentin sat up abruptly.  "I've been calling you since the night of the séance, but you didn't answer!"</div> <div> "I didn't trust you," Paul replied ruefully.  "I was desperate though, and Jenny convinced me that you weren't in the conspiracy.  I need your help, Mr.-ah, who are you?"</div> <div> "Quentin Collins, a distant cousin."</div> <div> "Yes, that's right.  I watched you take care of my daughter, and I wanted to thank you.  I was filled with rage because I was unable to do anything to stop that fiend!  You called me-do you know what I need to do to stop that creature from taking my baby?"</div> <div> Quentin thought.  "You're supposed to be a powerful enemy because he killed you-and Leviathans aren't supposed to kill their enemies.  Don't you know what to do?"</div> <div> "I need to throw him from Widow's Hill," Paul responded, "but I can't seem to do it.  I don't have any substance."</div> <div> Great, thought Quentin.  This was my idea to call on Carolyn's father-how did I know he would be Caspar the Clueless Ghost?  Paul seemed to frown and Quentin immediately screened his thoughts. "Maybe I need to invoke a spell to give you more power-or substance."</div> <div> "I wish you would-I would love to be the one to put a stop to him," Paul said fervently.  "Quentin, you'll need to go back home tomorrow.  That creature is in a rage and Barnabas cannot control him at all anymore.  It seems Barnabas is weaker than I thought he was, too.  Anyway, Jeb has taken Maggie and he's holding her hostage.  He's trying to trap the werewolf."</div> <div> "<I>What?</I>"  Quentin prepared to jump up and get dressed.</div> <div> "No, no, not now.  Go in the morning," Paul said.  "Don't tell your lady love what it's really about-make up something."</div> <div> "Why?" Quentin asked.  "She knows what's going on."</div> <div> Paul hesitated a moment.  "Yes, I know.  You want to keep her safe, don't you?"  That was probably a good idea.  Paul was right.  If he told Amanda the truth, she would cry and fight with him, begging him to stay.  Maybe she'd even try to come with him.  He'd make up a story-maybe that he had to see his editor.  He wouldn't even tell her he was going to Collinsport.  Paul smiled faintly.  "Good, Quentin.  Watch your back-and watch who you talk to."  Before Quentin could ask about that, Paul began to fade.  His final words were:  "Find a way for me to stop that creature, Quentin."</div> <div> Quentin closed his eyes and went back to sleep. </div> <bR> <div> In the morning, he waited for Amanda to go in and take a shower, and then he called Collinwood.  This time, Mrs. Johnson sounded frantic.  No one was at home, she informed him, sounding very upset.  "May I speak to Maggie?" Quentin asked quietly.</div> <div> "Oh, dear, you might as well know," Mrs. Johnson confessed immediately, "no one knows where she is!  She disappeared sometime last night-after she went to bed.  She had a late night Christmas supper with Mr. Barnabas and so I went to bed.  I knew something was wrong this morning when I got up and found all the lights on-"</div> <div> "Is Barnabas there?" Quentin interrupted.</div> <div> "No!  He's out helping that inspector from the state police department look for her.  Mr. Sirkis called the state police after Sheriff Davenport was killed, you see-"</div> <div> "When Barnabas comes in, would you tell him I'm on my way back?"</div> <div> "Of course.  Would you like to talk to Dr. Hoffman?"</div> <div> "She's there?" Quentin asked, surprised.  I should have known, he thought.</div> <div> "She just walked in the door," Mrs. Johnson said, uncomfortably.  He could hear her whispering to Julia.</div> <div> "Don't let her put me off!" Quentin said loudly.  He heard the phone being handed over.  "Julia, this was a dirty trick!" he snapped.</div> <div> "What is?" Julia asked.  "I've just arrived.  What are you talking about?"</div> <div> "Maggie's gone-didn't you know?  Haven't you been there?"</div> <div> "What are you talking about?" Julia asked peevishly.  "What do you mean, Maggie's gone?  I just walked in here!"</div> <div> "I'm sorry," he apologized, not really sure whether he believed it or not.  He told her about his dream and that Maggie was missing.</div> <div> "Are you going to fly?" Julia asked.  He decided he would.  That would be the quickest way back.  "I'll pick you up.  Call me when just before you leave the airport."</div> <div> "All right," he said, mollified, hanging up.  Maybe she wasn't lying after all.  He heard the shower go off.  He could see Amanda in his mind, carefully toweling herself off.   She would be out in a few moments, so he thought quickly.  He was going to lie right through his teeth to her.</div> <bR> <div> "Roger and David are back," Julia said grimly as they headed back toward Collinsport.</div> <div> "So soon?" Quentin asked, surprised.</div> <div> "Roger really doesn't manage David very well," Julia explained, sighing.  "Chris couldn't-wouldn't-take Amy away.  He's afraid he might change again even if there's no full moon-it happened before-and he didn't want to take any chances.  So Maggie stayed with Amy, although Maggie has a hard time managing David, too."</div> <div> "He sounds like me," Quentin observed, and Julia glanced at him, surprised.  "He probably just wants attention, Julia, and he doesn't know how else to get it."</div> <div> "I would say you're right under normal circumstances.  I have a feeling, though, that he insisted on coming back to Collinwood because of Jeb-and maybe even Maggie.  He didn't seem surprised to find out that she was missing."</div> <div> "Have you heard anything from Barnabas?"</div> <div> "No-most of my information came from Mrs. Johnson.  She saw him last early this morning.  Roger is out searching, now, too."  Julia set her jaw tightly.  "I feel so guilty about it all-I knew that Jeb hated Maggie."</div> <div> "He hates you, too," Quentin pointed out.</div> <div> "And you.  Barnabas told me after we left the ferry that Jeb was wild with rage over what you'd done.  He wants to kill you."</div> <div> "He can't kill me," Quentin scoffed.  "He's a wimp, Julia, a sissy."</div> <div> "Don't underestimate him!" Julia warned sharply.  "He won't let you get away with that twice."</div> <div> That's true, Quentin thought.  He knew it was true that he got himself into the most trouble when he underestimated his enemy-as he had with Petofi, several times.  He shook his head.  I should know better, he thought, and this Jeb is a whole different kind of monster.  "You're right," he said finally.  He told her some more of the dream he'd had about Paul Stoddard.  "He knows what to do but he doesn't seem to know how to go about doing it."</div> <div> "Do you have any ideas?"</div> <div> "Well, if everyone is still out searching I'd like to get back into my old room at the West Wing and look at some of my books.  It's been years, but maybe there's something I can find there-" He broke off, shocked.  They were going up the main street now and had passed the antique shop.  He saw a familiar face on a passerby, headed toward the shop.  "I know him!" he exclaimed.</div> <div> "Who?" Julia asked, surprised.  She slowed instinctively.</div> <div> "No, don't!" he cautioned her.  He watched the man go into the shop.  "I just saw him in New York a couple of days ago."</div> <div> "<I>Who</I>?" Julia asked again.</div> <div> Quentin thought, trying to remember his name.  It was German.  "His name is Bruno Hess," he said softly.  "But how the hell did he get here?  And why?"</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id114.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: ThingintheBox"><U>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</U></A>   <A HREF="id117.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Circling the Wagons"><U>8:  Circling the Wagons</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> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>