12: A Fiendish New Year

<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><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><B>12:  A Fiendish New Year</B><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>12:  A Fiendish New Year</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>      Carolyn hadn't gone to the carriage house, so Julia and Quentin went into Collinsport to find her.  They'd finally managed to calm Elizabeth enough to leave her in the drawing room with Mrs. Johnson hovering and fussing over her.  Their first stop in town was to see Sheriff Sirkis who told them that Jeb had signed a statement and then left.  Jeb was alone at the time.  "We'll have to split up," Julia decided.  It was a small town and they each went to opposite ends to check out the courthouse, the Inn, the Blue Whale, the diner, and any other place they thought Jeb and Carolyn might have gone.</div> <div>      Quentin had no luck anywhere he tried.  With a feeling of dread, he went to the train station and asked if a couple had purchased any tickets; they hadn't.  He shoved his hands into his pockets and cursed them both.  Jeb was more to blame, though-Carolyn was under his spell and couldn't help herself.  What a way to start the New Year, he thought angrily.  He walked back toward the Blue Whale.  A drink would warm him up, and Julia would find him there.</div> <div>      Quentin was working on his second beer when Julia came in looking for him.  She had an odd look on her face and agreed to a beer, too.  When the bartender walked away, Quentin asked, "Did you find out anything?"</div> <div>      "Well, I talked to Angelique," Julia began.</div> <div>      "Angelique!" Quentin exclaimed.  He remembered the spell and was suddenly furious.  He began to get up.  "Where is she?"</div> <div>      "Quentin, not now!" Julia put her hand on his arm and squeezed, hard.  "We have to find Carolyn-I think they've run off to get married."</div> <div>      "Well, wasn't that what he intended all along?" Quentin demanded, wondering why Julia seemed so surprised.</div> <div>      "Yes, but I wasn't aware he'd be able to change into his other form without the box-and he can't.  Angelique told me so."</div> <div>      "And what else did she tell you?  Did you ask her about the spell?"</div> <div>      Julia sighed.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't bring it up because I was concerned about Carolyn.  Angelique has rented a cottage here.  She met Jeb on the street near the sheriff's office and enticed him back to her cottage."</div> <div>      In spite of his anger at her, Quentin was intrigued.  "Oh, did she?  And what did she do that for?"</div> <div>      "I think she did something to him, Quentin.  She told him she thought she recognized him as one of Sky's friends, and he did admit to that.  He denied being at Little Windward Island.  He told her he was planning to marry Carolyn, and she said she gave him a blessing."</div> <div>      "A blessing!"</div> <div>      "Yes, an old Irish blessing.  It goes like this: `And may ye have all the luck ye need.'  What do you think, Quentin?  Angelique would have every reason to set a curse on Jeb, not bless him."</div> <div>      "Maybe she did," Quentin answered thoughtfully, studying his beer.  Maybe it was just as well if he stayed out of Angelique's way for the time being.  "What else did she say?"</div> <div>      "She gave Jeb a gift-but she wouldn't tell me what it was.  She just said to be patient.  And she also said that Paul Stoddard is still around-that you didn't really know what you were doing and she's going to take care of it."</div> <div>      Quentin rolled his eyes.  "Does she know that Carolyn is missing?"</div> <div>      "Well, I told her, but she didn't seem to react one way or the other," Julia answered with a sigh.  "Well, what shall we do now?"</div> <div>      Quentin shrugged.  "Go back to Collinwood, I guess.  I want to stop by the Inn and pick up my messages."</div> <div>      "Who are you expecting to hear from?" Julia asked.  "Amanda?"</div> <div>      Quentin set aside the thought that this was really none of Julia's business.  She was being an interested, if nosy, friend.  "Who else?" he parried.  Julia's eyes narrowed a little, but she didn't say anything.  He thought it might be a good idea to talk to her about his dreams, but Julia pushed her beer aside and said she'd see him at Collinwood.  "Where are you going?" he asked.</div> <div>      "I had an appointment to talk to Elliot," Julia answered.  "Sometime I must introduce you two.  I'll see you later, sweetie."</div> <div>      An appointment? Quentin thought, shaking his head in amusement.  He walked back over to the Inn and found a report waiting for him from Dan Powell.  Curious, he took it up to the room he'd never totally checked out of and sat down to read it.  Olivia Corey was traced back to New York City-her birthdate was given as September 21, 1943.  She was adopted; both parents were dead.  How convenient, Amanda, Quentin thought with some admiration.  No siblings.  </div> <div> The next report was more disturbing. Lily Barnes was the name she was using when she married to her gangster husband, Vince DiAngelo.  There was more information about him than there was about Amanda, and he'd had more than a nodding acquaintance with Geraldo Bartelli.  Quentin felt his blood run cold.  It did anytime he saw that name, bringing back the dreadful memories of that evil man. Worse than that, though, he'd told Amanda about his encounter with Bartelli-and she hadn't said anything.  <I>She knew him, she must've known him-I can't believe Bartelli was just dealing with DiAngelo!  He knew all about Phillip's family, about Nora and Mary Jane and the boys…he'd have to know about Amanda, too!</I></div> <div>  The two men met frequently for a short period of time, and then suddenly Amanda and DiAngelo were on their way to Las Vegas.  They must have made some kind of deal, Quentin thought, wondering about Amanda's part in it.  Bartelli liked both men and women, and Amanda was beautiful. It was impossible to believe she hadn't had anything to do with Bartelli.  <I>Why didn't she say anything?</I>  He remembered Amanda had even seemed to show some admiration for Petofi's cleverness when Quentin talked about him.  He shuddered again, confused and repulsed.</div> <div> As for Amanda herself, she seemed to have no background before she appeared as saloon singer Lily Barnes in the early days before Prohibition.   There was no birth record of her anywhere.  Powell also noted that he was not coming up with a match anywhere for Amanda Harris, either.  He was unable to trace her any further back than the acting troupe she'd traveled with.  Powell had actually talked with an actress who'd been a member of that troupe.  She was very old but remembered Amanda.  She'd appeared out of nowhere one night, bewildered and confused.  Everyone thought she might have amnesia.  She was beautiful, though, eager to please and eager to learn.  She was a terrific actress, the old lady said.</div> <div> <I>There has to be something somewhere!</I>  Quentin thought, disturbed.  Maybe she did have amnesia-maybe Amanda Harris wasn't her real name at all.  <I>Maybe she was telling you the truth, too, </I>he thought suddenly.  He swallowed hard.  It was hard to believe that Charles Delaware Tate could just paint her into existence.  It was hard to believe she'd known Petofi as Bartelli, and that he continued to live on in different bodies.   It was hard to believe he'd just been battling with zombies and Leviathans. These were chilling thoughts.  <I>I think I want another beer.</I>  </div> <div> Quentin went back to the Blue Whale and found Roger at the bar, his face nearly purple with fury.  He was having a boilermaker.  Wondering what went wrong, Quentin joined his cousin at the bar.  "What's wrong?" he asked.</div> <div> "Wrong? What would possibly make you think anything was wrong?" Roger asked nastily.  This probably wasn't his first drink, Quentin thought.  "Everything is well, Quentin!  After all, my niece is getting married!"</div> <div> "You heard from her?  Where is she?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "I didn't hear from her, no.  I heard from my sister.  My niece kindly called her to let her know that she was about to marry that-that-" Roger began to splutter, unable to speak anymore.</div> <div> "Where is she?" Quentin insisted.</div> <div> "Somewhere in Portland.  I don't know where!" Roger snapped back.  "Don't you think I would have tried to stop her if I knew where she was?"</div> <div> "She's not married yet?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "I have no idea-" Roger broke off, as Quentin turned and sprinted for the door.  He would go straight to the town hall on his motorcycle.  He might be too late to stop it, but he could try.</div> <bR> <div> It was after dark when a dispirited Quentin pulled up in front of Mrs. Bailey's house.  She looked out the door when she heard the motorcycle's motor shut off and waved frantically to him.  Tiredly, he wondered what the trouble was.  He remembered Amanda sometimes used pot-and cocaine.  He hoped she hadn't caused any trouble, but from the expression on Mrs. Bailey's face, he thought maybe she had.</div> <div> "Grant, it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling him inside.  "Happy New Year!  You've been away so long!"</div> <div> "Happy New Year," he responded, wondering what day it was.  Was it New Year's Eve already?  He'd lost count of the days.</div> <div> "Would you like a brandy, then?" she asked.</div> <div> "No, I'm kind of tired.  I just thought I'd get something to eat," he answered politely.  He wanted to call and let Julia know he hadn't any luck finding Carolyn.  It was probably too late already, and she was probably already married to that bastard demon.</div> <div> "I just wanted to talk to you about your girlfriend," Mrs. Bailey began, looking uncomfortable but determined.</div> <div> "Is something wrong?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "She's not good enough for you," Mrs. Bailey advised him in a soft voice.  "She has a visitor-I think perhaps he is her, what do you call it?  Dealer?  After he leaves I smell the burning rope.  I've watched `Dragnet' enough times that I know what it is.  She might be cheating on you, too."</div> <div> <I>I guess I ought to show that I care, but I don't</I>, Quentin thought, feeling depressed.  <I>I just want to find Carolyn.  I don't care if Amanda is doing drugs or who she's fucking.</I>  <I>I don't even think I can trust her anyway.  </I>"I guess I should have her leave," he said.</div> <div> Mrs. Bailey misunderstood the expression on his face.  "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you with the news like that.  I think it would be better, too, if she left here."</div> <div> He smiled a little and squeezed her arm.  "All right.  I'll tell her she has to go."</div> <div> "She's not home yet," Mrs. Bailey confided.</div> <div> Quentin shrugged.  "Then I'll have time to eat before she comes in," he answered.  He patted Mrs. Bailey's arm again reassuringly.  He went upstairs to call Collinwood and see if anyone had heard from Carolyn.  Mrs. Johnson answered the phone, sounding as if she'd been crying.  He guessed that Carolyn had called and asked for Roger, Elizabeth or Julia.</div> <div> "Quentin?" Roger said, his voice sounding harsh and strained.  "Did you really go to Portland?"</div> <div> "I really did," Quentin answered.  "I haven't had any luck finding her though-"</div> <div> "It's too late," Roger cut in brusquely.  "We've heard from her.  She's married.  She and Jeb got married at the city hall.  There is some friend of his living there, I suppose-she was the witness."</div> <div> "She?" Quentin repeated dully.</div> <div> "I don't know who it was, Carolyn wouldn't say.  It's done, and they're married."  Roger sighed heavily.  "What are we going to do?  He is dangerous-he is going to harm her, isn't he?"</div> <div> "Where are they now?  Would she even tell you that?"</div> <div> "No," Roger answered, in a despairing voice.  "There are so many places she could be.  There's no use in looking for her.  Do you think we've lost her?"</div> <div> "I don't know," Quentin replied.  He had a feeling that she was lost, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Roger that.  "Is Julia there?  Has Barnabas come by?"</div> <div> "Julia went to see Barnabas," Roger explained.  "She gave Liz a sedative.  Well, I appreciate what you've done-going to look for Carolyn, I mean."  His voice sounded thick with emotion.  "I wonder what we'll do now," he repeated himself helplessly.</div> <div> "Wait for her to come home," Quentin answered, feeling as helpless and frustrated as his cousin did.  Well, Roger probably felt worse-he'd been around Carolyn all of her life.  He hung up and looked in the refrigerator to see what Amanda had in there to eat.  He was surprised to find it almost empty except for some celery, carrots, apples, orange juice, and a bottle of Irish Mist.  <I>She keeps this in the refrigerator? </I>It looked like the insides of an alcoholic Bugs Bunny's refrigerator.  <I>Pizza,</I> he thought.<I>  I'll go and get some pizza.</I>  He'd have to get some beer too.  </div> <div> Mrs. Bailey didn't reappear at the window when he went out to get pizza and beer.  There was a pizzeria about two blocks from the apartment, and the two owners were used to seeing him come in frequently.  They kidded him about being such a stranger, and he laughed and went along with them.  It was funny to think how many times he'd joked around with people, pretending to have a normal life, when supernatural hell was breaking loose all round him.</div> <div> When he got back to his apartment, he saw all the lights were on.  There was a sporty car parked in the driveway.  Amanda must be back, he thought, carrying the pizza upstairs carefully.  As he opened the door, he heard her cry: "Darling!" as she flung herself at him.</div> <div> "Amanda, the pizza!" he protested, trying to keep the box from sliding.  It was too late, the box landed upside down, unnoticed by Amanda. She had Quentin around the neck, placing kisses all over his face.  It was like being greeted by a puppy, he thought uncharitably.  "Amanda! The pizza!" he repeated, trying to disentangle himself and save the pizza before all the cheese stuck to the lid of the box.</div> <div> "What did you get <I>that</I> for?  Don't you want to go out?  Quentin, you can't be serious!"</div> <div> "I'm hungry, and there was nothing to eat.  Go out where?" he asked, turning the box over.  He lifted the lid and looked inside.  Ruined.</div> <div> "Did you forget?  It's New Year's Eve!"  At her petulant tone, he looked up at her.  <I>Dammit</I>, he thought.  <I>I did tell her I'd come for New Year's Eve</I>.  "For God's sake, Quentin, what on earth is the matter with you?"</div> <div> "It's still too early to go out," he answered sulkily.  "And I'm hungry."</div> <div> "Well, all right, I guess you've got a point there, but I don't want any of that," Amanda declared.  "I would be too stuffed to eat later."</div> <div> "It doesn't seem like you've been eating at all," he remarked, bring the pizza and the box over to the table.  He'd eat it anyway.  "What's with the bunny food?"</div> <div> "Oh, it's healthy, that's all," Amanda replied.  She got down two glasses and a plate.  He shook his head at the plate.  "You're going to eat it out of the box?" Incredulously, she wrinkled her nose and brought the two glasses over, sitting across from him.  "You wouldn't have done that at Collinwood."</div> <div> "I'm not at Collinwood," he replied.  "Speaking of not being places, where were you when I came this afternoon?"</div> <div> "What time did you come?" she asked uneasily.</div> <div> <I>What have you been up to?</I> He thought.  "Not that long ago.  But it seemed pretty clear you hadn't been here in a while.  And Mrs. Bailey's upset.  Who's the friend that has been visiting?"</div> <div> "Friend?" Amanda repeated, looking wide-eyed and playing stupid.</div> <div> He sighed.  "Look, I'm always going to be better at this than you.  Who was he?  Friend?  Supplier?  Who?  Mrs. Bailey doesn't like the pot here.  You'll have to leave."</div> <div> Amanda looked shocked, then angry.  "Why, the nerve!" she exclaimed.</div> <div> "It's her house," Quentin said mildly.  "If she doesn't want you to smoke pot here, that's the way it is.  Who's the guy?"</div> <div> Amanda's lips tightened.  "You don't know him."</div> <div> "It's not Bruno, is it?"</div> <div> "Bruno, Bruno, Bruno!" Amanda yelled suddenly.  "I am sick to death of that name, Bruno!  Besides, you fooled around on me-you didn't tell me her name, did you?"</div> <div> "Wouldn't you rather be with him?" Quentin asked, beginning to become angry himself.</div> <div> "Why-so you can be with her?  Look, Quentin, you said you loved me.  You <I>owe </I>me-you've as much said so.  I gave my life and my career for you-and now you're trying to get rid of me so you can move on your next pretty little face?"</div> <div> Quentin didn't like the way the conversation was going at all, especially Amanda's declaration that he owed her-what?   "What are you talking about?  What do you mean, you gave up your life and career?" he demanded.  He could guess what it was she wanted but wasn't going to voice it.  </div> <div> Amanda had gone pale.  "I shouldn't have said that-I was just angry.  Forget it."</div> <div> It didn't make any sense.  He could see that she was hiding something.  "How are we supposed to have a relationship if you're going to lie to me?" he asked, thinking how ironic it was for him to be saying that to her.  Her eyes widened with fright.  "That was Bruno who was here, wasn't it?  He gives you drugs? I thought you weren't going to use them, Amanda!"</div> <div> "How can I not use them when you leave me alone so much?" Amanda demanded, going on the defensive again.  "I have no one to talk to here, no job-what do you expect me to do?"</div> <div> "Call your agent if you want a job," he answered.  "You can't sit here alone and smoke dope or snort it up your nose."</div> <div> "You're right-I can't sit here alone," Amanda agreed.  "Can't I come to Collinsport?"</div> <div> "No-and it's not a matter of not wanting you, it's a question of your safety," Quentin answered, feeling like they were going over the same old thing again.  "There are some new people involved."  Amanda looked at him steadily but didn't say anything.  He, however, remembered something.  "What deal did you and your husband make with Geraldo Bartelli?"</div> <div> Amanda jumped as if she'd been prodded with an electric rod.  "My God!  Whatever made you think of him!  How did you know he had anything to do with Vince and me?"</div> <div> "I told you I had friends," Quentin began.</div> <div> "You had me investigated?" Amanda exclaimed, sounding outraged.</div> <div> "Not exactly, I was trying to find your family."</div> <div> "You haven't found anyone, have you?"</div> <div> "No," Quentin admitted.</div> <div> "You won't either," Amanda told him, her face going a deeper red.</div> <div> "It doesn't matter," Quentin said.  "I was just trying to help, so you wouldn't feel so alone."  Amanda looked mollified and touched by that.  He didn't want to make up, however-not while this huge lie was between them.  "Amanda, when I told you about Geraldo Bartelli, why didn't you tell me you knew him too?"  Amanda's face went white with shock, but she was either unable or unwilling to answer. "How involved were you with him?  And why didn't you tell me?"</div> <div> Amanda shuddered visibly and covered her face.  "I wasn't involved with him willingly," she whispered, sounding genuinely distraught. "He offered to help Vince, but there was a-a-price.  Please, I don't want to tell you.  It's been years since I thought about it."  She'd begun to cry.  "I was so afraid he would follow us to Las Vegas.  I was afraid he would continue to `collect his payment.'"  She was crying hard now.  "He was a perverted savage, Quentin."</div> <div> He stopped himself from trying to comfort her.  "I know.  I don't understand, Amanda.  You didn't cry when I told you about him.  I seem to remember you thought he was `brilliant'.  You told me you'd only had a couple of encounters with Petofi.  Why did you lie to me, Amanda?" </div> <div>  "Oh!  I didn't mean to-I didn't think you would understand!" Amanda exclaimed, weeping hard. "How could I tell you what he made me do?"</div> <div> "What do you mean, you didn't think I'd understand?"</div> <div> "Oh!"  Amanda tried to stop sobbing so she could speak.  "I had to do things to help Vince.  How could I tell you about it without you being disgusted with me?  You'd hate me, thinking I must be a-a-whore to do those things!  You don't understand, Quentin--he was vicious!"</div> <div> "I know he was," Quentin agreed softly.  He thought he could imagine what she was talking about and wanted to believe her.  He knew that things like pizza and dirt disgusted her-maybe she was telling the truth about this.  Now he did move to put his arms around her, if only to encourage her to talk more.</div> <div> "Oh, God," Amanda wept onto his shoulder.  "I know he hurt your family-I was just so afraid to tell you!  I didn't think you'd understand what he made me do!" </div> <div> "I would have understood," Quentin answered in the same gentle tone.  He understood Amanda's reluctance to talk about what had happened at Bartelli's hands.  He hadn't confided in anyone either-only Angelique and Beth.  He didn't think anyone else would understand, either, believing for a long time that if he'd fought harder he could have escaped Petofi's assault. </div> <div> "Do you think he would have recognized me then?" Amanda asked, sounding very frightened now.</div> <div> Quentin looked at her closely.  "Did he tell you he did?  He was delighted to let me know that he knew who I was."</div> <div> "No, he never said he was Petofi," Amanda answered, tears streaming down her face.  </div> <div> "What is it that's scaring you so badly?" Quentin asked.  "Are you afraid of what I think?"</div> <div> "What <I>do</I> you think?" she asked timidly.</div> <div> "I think he hurt us both.  What I don't understand is-why did you say he was brilliant?"</div> <div> "Because he is," Amanda answered simply.  "That doesn't mean I admire him-but he must be a brilliant, brilliant demon to be able to do what he does to people.  And-oh!  He's not gone!" She threw her arms around Quentin's neck and cried as if her heart would break.  "Oh! Oh! I didn't understand before, but I do now!  You should have left me, Quentin!"</div> <div> <I>This again?</I>  Quentin felt irritated, thinking she was being a bit melodramatic.   "Amanda, he may not be gone but he's not here now.  He's not a threat to you or he would've done something to you already," he told her. "It's me he wants-and my family.  What are you so upset about?"</div> <div> "I'm supposed to help-it was the deal," Amanda began, in a hitching voice.</div> <div> Quentin pulled back from her.  "You were supposed to help?  What are you talking about?  What deal?"</div> <div> Amanda only shook her head and sobbed, looking even more frightened if that was possible.  When she finally managed to speak, she said, "I didn't know it was him, Quentin, I swear!"</div> <div> "What in the hell are you talking about?" Quentin asked, shaking her to try and quiet her sobs.</div> <div> "Back then-with Vince," Amanda answered finally.  Quentin didn't think that this was the deal she was referring to originally.  He was going to challenge her when she moved her arms around his neck again and pressed her face onto his shoulder.  "Oh, please!  Quentin, hold me!"</div> <div> Quentin didn't feel like squatting on the floor anymore, so he picked her up and sat down with her on the kitchen chair, settling her on his lap as if she was a child.  He felt sorry for her in spite of the fact he was positive she was keeping a secret from him.  What could it be?  "Did Petofi make you promise something?" he asked her softly, cradling her against his chest.</div> <div> "A long time ago," Amanda answered dully.  "I don't want to talk about it, please-it had to do with Vince and me.  I didn't want to tell you that I knew him.  Oh, I feel so filthy!  Please, don't hate me!"  As he held her, Quentin could feel her moving so that she could reach up and touch his face.  She applied some pressure, obviously wanting him to bring his head down to kiss her.  He did, sensing that she could be comforted this way.  She became a little more demanding; he knew what she wanted.</div> <div> He picked her up and carried her over to the bed.  He didn't hate her. He could understand why she wouldn't want to tell him about her encounter with Bartelli. She hadn't done anything to hurt him, and there was time for answers later.  It was New Year's Eve, and he hadn't even known it.  Surely he deserved a few hours of carefree pleasure?  Amanda certainly seemed to think so, urgently pulling him down onto her.   Frustrated and lonely, it wouldn't have taken much to convince Quentin.  Later, they showered together, and as he felt Amanda soap him sensuously, he shivered with pleasure.  He deliberately put thoughts of everyone and everything else aside.</div> <div> After awhile, Amanda got up to take a shower and get dressed.  Quentin called ahead and was able to make reservations at a hotel hosting a New Year's Eve party.  While Amanda was in the shower, Quentin called Katie quickly and then Mary Jane to wish them both a Happy New Year.  They all sounded like they'd begun to party already.  He managed to finish both conversations before Amanda came into the room. He hung up, thinking that here was another New Year starting without Beth.  Amanda smiled at him, and he managed to smile back weakly. <I>I have my own secrets I'm keeping from her.  </I></div> <div> Quentin drove Amanda's car to the hotel.  They dined on lobster; Amanda delighted in selecting hers from the tank.  She was like a little girl, Quentin thought indulgently, deliberately putting Beth out of his mind tonight.  He didn't care one way or the other which lobster he ate as long as it was done right, but Amanda exclaimed and had to look over each one.  She could be quite charming, he thought.  Maybe that was what had drawn him to her in the first place.  He'd been so preoccupied with his dreams of Jenny and his family that he'd forgotten almost everything he'd enjoyed about Amanda.</div> <div> She danced beautifully, too.  Of course she would-it was what she did for a living, partly.  He'd never had such a graceful partner, not even Beth.  She almost became a part of him on the dance floor.  It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much on the dance floor.  The very last time, in fact, would have been in Vienna-but no, better not to think of that.  He looked into Amanda's face, flushed with sexual fulfillment and with the joy of being with him.  He smiled at her, realizing he did feel something for her after all.  He wasn't sure what to call it.</div> <div> Amanda smiled back, then shut her eyes in contentment and rested her head on Quentin's shoulder.  He could move with her all over the floor; she didn't need to see where she was going.  She trusted him implicitly and moved with grace and beauty.  They might have gone on dancing all night but the music stopped so that the count down to midnight could begin.  Amanda opened her eyes and clasped Quentin's hand tightly, excitement dancing in her eyes.  She looked at him and exclaimed, "I have never looked forward to a New Year as much as I do this one!"</div> <div> "You do?" He smiled indulgently again, feeling a warm sensation toward her.  </div> <div> "Because you're here with me," she explained, suddenly looking a little unsure of herself suddenly.  Then she smiled again, hopefully.</div> <div> He kissed her impulsively, feeling her put her arms around him to cling to him.  They were still kissing when the whistles and horns began to go off, ignoring the noise, the balloons, and the streamers falling around them.  When their kiss ended, the band had already begun to play another song and they began to move again, looking into each other's eyes.  <I>Maybe Julia's right,</I> he thought,<I> maybe we just need to spend more time together.</I>  There was no rush tonight; he'd already arranged for them to stay in a room at the hotel so that he wouldn't have to drive back to his apartment drunk.</div> <div> A few hours later, they were both tired from dancing and lightheaded from drink.  They made their way up to the room Quentin reserved for them, giggling and staggering a little; they helped each other stay upright, and Amanda helped Quentin fit the key into the doorknob.  It was all so ridiculously funny, they couldn't stop laughing.  There was no question about making love again; neither of them were sober enough to even contemplate it.  As it was, they had to help each other get undressed, snickering gleefully as each garment hit the floor.  Quentin looked at Amanda standing naked before him and said in a sentimentally sloppy tone, "You are sooo beautiful, y'know that, Amanda?  By all rights, I ought to be able to get it up and make love to you and I'm going to regret it in the morning that I didn't."</div> <div> "Well, that's all right, if we're not too hung over we can do it then," Amanda reassured him amiably, helping him pull his pants off.  "Oh, and you are well hung, too."</div> <div> He found that hilarious and fell back on the bed, laughing hysterically.  Amanda laughed, too, lying down next to him.  "We can't stay like this," he told her.  "We'll freeze."  They struggled to sit up again and managed to pull the blankets and sheet down.  Crawling under the covers, Amanda snuggled up against him.  "This is nice," he said truthfully, the drink loosening his tongue.  "I've been lonely for years, Amanda, did you know that?"</div> <div> "I've been lonely, too," Amanda answered softly, moving closer-if that was possible.</div> <div> "I won't let you go," he assured her with drunken bravado.  "I'll take care of you-you'll see."  <I>Sure, this could work if I could just spend a little time with her-and Beth would understand, I know she would.  If Beth is alive, I wouldn't expect her to be alone for all those years-with no one to love.</I>  He stroked Amanda's hair affectionately.  If he wasn't sick in the morning, they could do it again, and then again if they wanted.  He could call Collinwood later-later.  As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard someone's voice.  Whose was it?  Jenny's?  Beth's?  It was so faint, he couldn't tell.  He almost couldn't make out the words, but they came to him very softly: <I>Of course you'd need to love someone again, but not this one-you have to be very very careful of this one, Quentin….</I></div> <bR> <div> In the morning, thickheaded with a hangover, Quentin managed to get himself into the bathroom to shower.  As he tried to wake up under the steady spray of the water, he heard the door open, and the curtain slid back.  Amanda stepped into the shower with him, placing her arms around his waist.  She reached up and took the bar of soap from him and began to soap his back with a slow, languorous movement.  "Mmm," he sighed.  It felt good.</div> <div> "Turn around," Amanda told him, and he obeyed.  She moved the bar of soap across his chest in slow, small circles, moving slowly down his abdomen.  He was already aroused by her touch and by the nearness of her.  <I>She's so hot, I could slip it into her now, and she'd be ready…</I>  As if she'd read his mind, she asked, "Have you ever had a woman in a running shower?"</div> <div> In a bathtub, filled with water-yes.  In the river, yes.  In a running shower, no, but he was eager to try.  Amanda was, too.  They were pressed against the wall, the warm water running down Quentin's back.  He half lifted Amanda, and she partially braced herself on the tub so that he could move into her.  He was gratified to find that he was right-he was able to move into her easily.  Amanda gasped when he entered her; she had been nibbling at his ear and suddenly moved to his throat, biting hard in her passion.  That was too much for Quentin, who discovered he liked that kind of thing very much.  He began to thrust quickly, wondering briefly if the wall would hold up.  The noise of the water absorbed the sound of their cries, and he could feel Amanda climaxing just before he did.  He could feel his knees buckle a little.  </div> <div> He straightened up, leaned his head back into the water, shook himself and howled.  "Quentin!" Amanda exclaimed, jumping.  She began to laugh.  "I'm shaking all over," she said.</div> <div> "Lean against me," he told her.  "I don't think I'm going to fall over anymore."  He found the bar of soap and gently began to move it across her breasts.  "Amanda, it's always good with you."</div> <div> Amanda was quiet a minute, and he supposed she was enjoying being massaged with the soap.  Then she said in a small voice, "I'm supposed to be the perfect woman.  Maybe that's why it's always good."</div> <div> "Oh, Amanda, come on," he protested, turning her so that she faced him.  He kissed her.  "You're not some robot or something.  You're a beautiful, passionate woman."</div> <div> "Thank you for saying that, darling," Amanda said, returning his kiss.  "I do love you so much!"</div> <div> "You mean a lot to me, Amanda," he answered softly.  It was not quite what she wanted to hear.  She turned away slightly, moving so that the water would rinse her off.  He knew what she wanted him to say.  He wasn't ready to say it.  He did love her in a way-but he knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear either.  They finished rinsing off, and he turned the water off.  "Do you want to go out and eat-or have breakfast sent up?" he asked.</div> <div> "You don't want to be seen with me," Amanda said sadly, stepping out of the tub and reaching for a towel.</div> <div> "No!" he exclaimed, shocked.  "I just thought we could be alone, that's all.  If you want to go out, we'll go out."  People's feelings were so fragile, he thought.  He didn't want to lie to her and say he was in love with her, although he could have easily done it and because he wouldn't, she felt insecure.  Maybe that's why she used the drugs-she was insecure and confused.  He followed her out of the bathroom, drying himself off with his own towel.  "Amanda, listen, I know what this is about.  I know what you want me to say.  I do love you, but not the way you want me to.  It's not you-it's me."</div> <div> Amanda turned around.  "So if you'd known who you were when you came back to Collinsport, I would've had to return with Mr. Best.  You wouldn't have said you loved me then, either."</div> <div> "I don't know what the deal was," he answered.  "You know my story, Amanda.  I haven't kept anything back from you."</div> <div> "You wanted to marry me in Collinsport-you knew Beth then."  Amanda pouted.  "I should have stayed behind, Quentin.  My life is over anyway, especially if you don't want me."</div> <div> "I do want you, there's no doubt about that," Quentin answered, taking her into his arms.  "And just what do you mean your life is over?  You've said something like that several times now.  What does it mean?"</div> <div> "It means that I love you and I didn't do what I was supposed to do, so my career is over," Amanda answered flatly, pulling away.  She went to the drawers to pull out clothes.  They were only spending the night, but Amanda wanted her things out of the suitcase and hung up or put away neatly.  She dressed slowly, allowing Quentin to get a good look at her.</div> <div> He didn't notice because he didn't like what he was hearing.  "You know, I heard you say something like this before, too.  Maybe you'd better be a little more specific.  What do you mean, you didn't do what you were supposed to do?  What were you supposed to do?"</div> <div> "Quentin-" Amanda began, and then stopped.  She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.  "I'm in such trouble, and I don't know what to do.  I don't know what's going to happen to me now."</div> <div> He went to her, trying to take her hands away from her face.  "Amanda, look at me, please.  What are you talking about?"</div> <div> "If I tell you, you're going to hate me!"</div> <div> "No, I won't," he declared, not caring if that ended up being a lie or not.  He had to know what was wrong.  He grabbed her arms and shook her.  "Amanda, please tell me!"</div> <div> Amanda took her hands away and laughed suddenly.  "Oh, Quentin, I can't talk to you while you're naked!  Would you get dressed, please?  I'll tell you-I'll try, but I can't, you know-"</div> <div> Quentin dressed quickly, wondering if Amanda was using this as an excuse not to talk.  His suspicion increased when she asked him to call down for breakfast and coffee; she couldn't talk without having a cup of coffee first-or something else, and she knew he didn't want her to use <I>that.</I>  "Amanda, don't play games with me," he said irritably, after placing the room service order and hanging up.</div> <div> "I'm not-this is just so difficult," Amanda replied, her eyes filling with tears again.</div> <div> "Try," he insisted.  "I heard you say something about making a deal.  I thought you meant the one you made with Petofi."</div> <div> "Bartelli," she corrected quickly.</div> <div> "Same thing, he <I>was</I> Petofi."</div> <div> "My God, if I had known-Quentin, he was a clever, evil man when I met him in Collinsport.  I never would have let them-I would have left Vince if I'd known," Amanda said earnestly, sitting down at the little table.  Quentin sat down across from her.  "I just thought he was a pervert with high connections in the mob.   Do you believe me?" </div> <div> It seemed to be very important to her that he believe her, and he saw no reason not to.  "I believe you."  He wondered if Petofi had come across her before, during or after his encounter with him.   Quentin scowled.</div> <div> "Do you?" Amanda asked worriedly, seeing the scowl.</div> <div> Quentin looked at her.  "It's not you, it's him," he muttered.  "I'm not much different than you-I don't like to think about him either."  He reached over to take her hand.</div> <div> "Did he--?" Amanda began and stopped.  She blushed deeply.  "I shouldn't ask you, if I don't want to talk about him myself."  They looked at each other with understanding.  <I>He did something just as awful to her as he did to me,</I> Quentin realized, and knew that she was realizing the same thing.  There was a knock at the door that caused them both to jump.  It was just room service, with their meal.  "That was fast," Amanda commented, laughing nervously.  "I can have my coffee after all."</div> <div> Quentin tipped the waiter, who wheeled a tray into their room and left.  They sat down to breakfast and as Quentin poured a cup of coffee for Amanda, he asked, "Now that you've got your coffee, will you tell me what you were talking about before?" Amanda picked her cup up and started to bring it to her lips.  Her hand was trembling and she had to use both hands to steady it.  "That bad, huh?"</div> <div> "Our hands really did touch there, you know," Amanda whispered softly, and then she swallowed some of her coffee.  She looked at Quentin, her expression frightened and yearning.</div> <div> "Did they?" Quentin asked, the hair along his neck prickling.</div> <div> "Mr. Best let you leave with me," Amanda continued.</div> <div> "He's the one you made a deal with?" Quentin asked, surprised.  "What's the deal?"</div> <div> "I was supposed to help him-give him information," Amanda continued and then stopped.</div> <div> "Give him information?  About what?" Quentin asked, puzzled.  It made no sense, considering who Mr. Best was.</div> <div> "About you-and your family," Amanda answered in a very small voice.  "My career would go on as before if I did and if I refused, it would end-I'd be nothing."</div> <div> "<I>Mr. Best</I> wanted information about me?  About my family?" Quentin asked incredulously.  "Why?  What's he got to do with anything?"</div> <div> Amanda bit her lip.  "He's more than who you think he is, Quentin."</div> <div> "Enlighten me," Quentin said.  He thought Best was Death incarnate.  What did he need with information?</div> <div> "He's mixed up with these…creatures that are in Collinsport, Quentin," Amanda explained and then stopped again, watching his face fearfully.</div> <div> Quentin was confused at first.  Best was…a Leviathan?  Death?   No way!  It couldn't be-unless he wasn't what he said he was.  "He's a Leviathan?" he asked sharply.</div> <div> "Well, I don't know, but he's mixed up with them," Amanda began to cry, setting her cup down.  "Oh, now I know you're going to hate me.  Well, he hates me, too.  And you're going to throw me out, and I'll have no way to support myself-because I wouldn't do what he wanted, Quentin.  I wouldn't tell him the things he wanted to know.  He wanted me to tell him about your cousin so he could help that gaseous misty thing get her, and I said no, I loved you too much.  And he wanted to know about you, because you were fighting with the monster in the leather jacket, and I said no.  He said, `You'll regret this.' And the next thing I know, I lost my job."</div> <div> Quentin was stunned, trying to absorb it all.  That meant that Amanda had known all along what he was talking about when he was trying to explain the Leviathans to her.  Her great act of pooh-poohing everything was a great big act.  He found himself becoming angry.  "And the night of the fire?  What made you come to Collinsport?"</div> <div> "It really was Mr. Best.  He told me it was my last chance, but I just couldn't do what he wanted me to, Quentin."  Amanda had begun to cry hard, now.  "I lost everything and it's all my fault!"  She began to castigate herself, bemoaning the fact that she'd spent years searching for him, only to find him.  She still loved him, even after all these years and even though he didn't remember her.  She would have died happy, just for those precious days they'd spent together-she'd been so happy.  Then there was that accursed flight through Hell and the bargain, and now she'd lost everything.  "You know it was all a set-up, don't you?  The fact that he brought you to me?  You know that no matter what, he was going to let me go with you-with this damned bargain between us!"</div> <div> Quentin felt himself go cold, wondering if that was really true.  Mr. Best had seemed all too agreeable to his challenge.  What if it really was a set-up from the beginning?  Amanda was sobbing now.  Whatever she was, she seemed to be genuinely suffering.  He put his hand on her arm, and she covered it with her other hand.  "Ssh, Amanda, don't," he soothed her automatically, saying the words without really thinking.</div> <div> "You hate me," Amanda wept.</div> <div> "No, I don't," Quentin objected, and Amanda looked at him, tears streaming down her face.  He thought it was a good thing she hadn't put her make-up on yet; she would have looked like a clown.  Now she just seemed like a little girl.  "I don't hate you," he told her again and he meant it.  Except for the possibility of sending Bruno to Collinsport, she hadn't done anything to hurt him or the family.  Maybe she'd been fighting Mr. Best the whole time, just as he'd been fighting the Leviathans.  Maybe that's why she'd seemed so needy.</div> <div> Amanda got up and went to him, climbing onto his lap again.  He put his arms around her again and comforted her, feeling her tremble as she cried.  "I'm so scared, I don't know what I'm going to do now," she wept.</div> <div> "This is why you wished I left you behind?" he asked.  She nodded instead of answering.  "What's going to happen when you don't give him what he wants?  Is he going to take you away?"</div> <div> "No, he just said that my career would be destroyed and that you would leave me-that you would hate me," Amanda answered, sniffling.</div> <div> "Do you really think your career's been destroyed?" Quentin asked.  He remembered how tenderly he'd felt toward her last night and felt those feelings returning.  He felt sorry for her-she was all alone.  "Your agent would be able to find something else for you, wouldn't he?"</div> <div> "I-I c-called h-him and he-he said may-maybe I sh-should t-take my-my buh-business else-wh-where!" Amanda answered in a hitching voice.  She began to hiccup and then giggled.  "I f-feel s-so stu-stupid! I c-can't t-t-talk!"</div> <div> "It's all right," Quentin soothed her again.  "Look, if that agent is such an idiot he'd dump you, we'll find you another one."</div> <div> Amanda lifted her head.  "Really?"</div> <div> "Really.  We'll keep you in show business, Amanda, if that's what you want.  Mr. Best doesn't run <I>my </I>friends," Quentin answered empahtically.</div> <div> "Oh, darling!" Amanda threw her arms around Quentin's neck briefly and then kissed him deeply.  She paused long enough to say, "I've been a saloon singer before, I don't care where I sing as long as I can keep performing!"  She kissed him again, deeper this time.  </div> <div> He kissed her back.  He could feel himself responding a little, but he hadn't eaten yet.  They could spend all day in bed if they wanted, so he gently pulled back from her.  "Happy New Year Amanda," he said to her.  "Look, I want you to know that I'll always look out for you.  Believe that, would you?"  She smiled happily, nodding.  "I'm starving.  Let's eat."</div> <div> In between episodes of making love, they talked about what was happening.  He told Amanda that Carolyn had run off to marry Jeb.  Amanda's features froze and she looked at Quentin with either fear or dismay as he told her about the elopement.  "So who could have stood up for them?" Amanda asked.  "Does your cousin have friends here?"</div> <div> Quentin shook his head.  "I really haven't gotten to know her that well.  Or you, either, for that matter."</div> <div> "What do you mean?"  Now it was unmistakable: she looked frightened.</div> <div> "What's wrong?" Quentin asked, puzzled.  "I just mean that we haven't had much of a chance to talk or get to know each other."</div> <div> Amanda laughed nervously.  "But don't you think you know me?  After all the times we made love to each other?"</div> <div> "Well, yes, there's that, but I just mean I don't know what kind of music you like to listen to.  I don't know what your favorite food is, or your favorite book.  Things like that."</div> <div> Amanda looked visibly relieved.  "Oh!  Well, there isn't much to tell.  Call Collinwood, and I can tell you in a sentence or two what I like to listen to.  I don't read very much."</div> <div> Quentin's eyebrows went up a little, but he didn't comment.  He was thinking about what Julia had said about the two of them needing time to talk and learn about each other.  During the long lonely years, Quentin learned to appreciate a good book.  He wondered what Amanda did in her spare time.  He called Collinwood and got Mrs. Johnson as usual.  "Happy New Year, Mrs. J," he said cheerfully.</div> <div> "What's happy about it?" she responded grimly.  "No one is happy here.  Who would you like to speak to, Mr. Collins?"</div> <div> Someday he'd make that woman smile if it killed him.  "Julia, if she is there."  Of all the people in the household, Julia would be the most sensible about what was going on.  After a few minutes, he heard Julia say hello into the phone.  "Happy New Year, Julia," he said.  "Any word from Carolyn?"</div> <div> "Oh, Quentin!" Julia exclaimed, sounding glad to hear from him.  "Happy New Year, sweetie!  The only word we got from Carolyn is that she's married.  She and Jeb are going away on an extended honeymoon."  Her voice dropped a little.  "She didn't tell us where she was going or when they would be returning.  She said something about Jeb being a free spirit."</div> <div> "He should be a dead spirit," Quentin interjected.</div> <div> "He should be and he may be soon-I just don't know," Julia answered.  </div> <div> "But he really can't transform anymore without that box?"</div> <div> "He hasn't yet that I know of."</div> <div> Quentin sighed.  "I guess I could have some friends check the hotels for her.  I think I'll stay in Portland another day or two.  Barnabas is safe?"</div> <div> "Yes, and don't you dare tell Amanda anything either," Julia answered sharply.  </div> <div> "I wouldn't do that!" Quentin replied, stung.  He thought Julia knew him better than that, but he supposed love made friends blind, too.</div> <div> "I'm sorry."  Julia softened her tone.  "You know, I think Elizabeth and Roger would feel a lot better if they only knew where Carolyn was.  If you have friends that could find her, by all means-call them."</div> <div> "All right, Julia.  I'll call you before I come back then."  He hung up and looked around at Amanda.  "You've got me for a few days.  Want to stay here a couple of days until we find you another job?"</div> <div> Amanda clapped her hands together.  "Oh, that would be wonderful!  But are you really going to go looking for Carolyn yourself?"</div> <div> "No, that's what I pay other people to do for me nowadays," he answered with a laugh.  "We're going to go looking together for another agent for you, but I'll let my detective friends do the footwork to find Carolyn and Jeb."</div> <div> Amanda looked troubled again.  "Then what?  Will you confront them?"</div> <div> "Probably not.  Carolyn's old enough to marry."  He shrugged.  He was bitterly disappointed that he'd been unable to stop this travesty, but legally he couldn't do anything about it now.  He would have someone keep an eye on Carolyn, though-an armed man, just to make sure she remained safe.  He picked up the phone again.</div> <div> Once he was sure that enough people were looking for Carolyn and Jeb, Quentin turned his attention back to Amanda.  Before becoming entangled with her again, he learned that what she really enjoyed most about entertaining was singing and dancing.  Fame made her nervous because of the immortality "problem".  She just wanted to be able to perform.  As they were relaxing after another romp in the large bed, he suddenly remembered Buck's Head Lodge.  "Amanda!" he exclaimed, sitting up.  "How'd you like to sing at a resort?"</div> <div> "A resort? Oh, I've done that before!" Amanda answered, smiling cheerfully.  "Oh, I enjoy those!  You get your own room and all your meals are free, and every one of your needs are catered to right away."</div> <div> "Where?  Where did you perform?" Quentin asked, curiously.  It would be a good alternative.</div> <div> "In the Catskills," Amanda replied.  "It was a long time ago, Quentin.  If I thought about it really hard, I think I might remember the name.  We could look it up in the phone book!  Oh!  And doesn't your step-daughter live there somewhere?"</div> <div> "Uh, how about the Poconos?" Quentin countered quickly.  The Catskills! Quentin was sure he didn't want Amanda and Katie running into each other.</div> <div> "Oh, they're beautiful, too," Amanda said, distracted immediately.  "And they're not so far from New York City, either.  One thing about the resorts is that they're a little boring-there's no city life, you know?  I wouldn't be able to go shopping anytime I wanted to."</div> <div> She sure likes to chatter, Quentin thought.  She liked to talk about which hairstyle suited her best and which nail polish made her hands look the prettiest and which were best under a spotlight and clothes, clothes, clothes.  Sometimes he found himself tuning her out.  She really didn't like to read much except for the funny pages and didn't know very much about Vietnam or the antiwar movement or hippies or much of anything else.  She did like the Beatles, though.  He heard Amanda say Katie's name and tuned back in to her.  "I'm sorry, what?"</div> <div> "Oh, I just asked if you ever went to see your step-daughter any more?  Have you seen her recently?  It must be very hard to stay away, isn't it?"</div> <div> "It is hard," he agreed.  He thought he'd told her all about it.  He felt uncomfortable now with her sudden curiosity and interest.  She hadn't seemed so curious before, but that might have been because she'd been preoccupied with-what?  Herself?</div> <div> "You spent Christmas and New Year's with me," Amanda observed with some satisfaction in her voice.  "When did you see her last?"</div> <div> "Uh, Thanksgiving," Quentin answered.</div> <div> "Does she have children?  Is that why you don't go and see her more often?  Or is it because she reminds you of Beth?"</div> <div> Actually, it was because of the children; Katie looked almost exactly like Beth years ago. She was aging now, and he imagined that was what Beth would have looked like, too, at fifty.  "It's the children-they would wonder, you know?  Why I never seemed to get older."</div> <div> Amanda looked thoughtful.  "That's the same problem I have with show business, isn't it?"  Quentin didn't think a career and a family could be compared but elected not to say so.  "Have you met her children?"</div> <div> "I met them-the first time when they were all really little.  Then I met one of Katie's daughters in Chicago.  I was covering the convention, and Lisa was there.  She wasn't calling herself by her right name, though.  She was a hippie-or at least she dressed like one, and she called herself Zenith."</div> <div> "Well!" Amanda exclaimed, interested.  "Did you recognize her?"</div> <div> "No, I didn't know who she was.  I liked her, though-she was lively and friendly, and-" He stopped.  He almost said, `she reminded me of Beth' but realized that would be a big mistake.  Instead, he covered and said, "She taught me some passive resistance so that I didn't get hurt when the police came."</div> <div> "Police?"  Amanda wrinkled her nose, puzzled.</div> <div> "The riots, Amanda, remember? During the Democratic National Convention?"  Quentin felt slightly exasperated as Amanda shook her head, continuing to look puzzled.  "When the police came in and began throwing tear gas and clubbing people, the kids protesting began yelling `The whole world is watching.'  You didn't see any of that on TV?"</div> <div> "I think I might have.  That sounds familiar," Amanda answered, her eyes lighting up a little.  "There's just so much of that going on, you know, that it's hard to tell what is what.  So you were there?"</div> <div> "I was there, and I got arrested, too, because there came a point where the police didn't know who was protesting and who was the press.  I don't think they cared."</div> <div> "My God! You were in jail?" Amanda sounded horrified.  "Did you get hurt?"</div> <div> "No, thanks to Lisa, I didn't.  See, with passive resistance you go limp by relaxing your whole body.  This way the police can carry you away without dragging you on the ground and you getting hurt.  If they come at you with a club, you curl up on the ground, sort of like a fetus, and you cover your head with your hands and stick your butt up in the air."</div> <div> "What for?"</div> <div> "So that if they hit you they don't get a vital organ."</div> <div> Amanda's mouth dropped open.  "My God, Quentin, why would you <I>willingly</I> put yourself in the middle of something like that?  And you want to jail with all those hippies?  They don't take baths, do they?  It must have been awful!"</div> <div> He wanted to tell her that actually, it hadn't been bad at all-it had been fun, in fact.  He wanted to tell her that hippies did take baths and were actually bright kids with some good ideas when they weren't stoned.  He could see, however, that Amanda would never comprehend it.  What she would understand, though, is his real reason for accepting assignments like Chicago and Northern Ireland: to help him forget about Beth for a little while.  After all these years, he missed her terribly; they'd been one for many years, but it was just a fraction over his entire lifespan.  Still, he felt an integral part of himself was gone.  He needed to be with women, but no one had been able to erase Beth from his mind entirely.  He said, "If I want to win a Pulitzer Prize, I need to cover stories like this."</div> <div> "Oh, I see."  She did see, too.  It was the prize that was important, and she understood that in the same way she understood that an Emmy or an Oscar or a Tony award would be important.  "Well, you have a more difficult job than me.  I couldn't do all those nasty things-being arrested and sneaking in and out of countries.  I assume you do that on your other job?  All I have to do is sing."</div> <div> He sighed, but smiled at her at the same time.  "Yes, all you have to do is sing.  Let's see what we can do about that now, eh?"  This would be a good way to turn the conversation away from himself and Katie's family.  Quentin had friends and contacts that had friends and contacts of their own. By the end of the evening, Amanda had an audition for one of the resort clubs in Stroudsburg, in the Poconos.  Quentin thought it would have been wildly ironic if he'd been able to get her into the Buck's Head Inn.  Amanda was thrilled and excited.  This was exactly what she wanted.  They would go down to Pennsylvania the following day.  Quentin arranged for his motorcycle to be delivered back to Collinwood.</div> <div> The front desk had a report for Quentin from the owner of the detective agency he'd hired to look for Jeb and Carolyn.  They were behaving in a most peculiar manner.  In the 24 hours since they'd married, they'd checked in and out of three hotels already.  Quentin frowned, puzzled, wondering what the hell they were doing.  Did Jeb think he was being followed?  He called the agency and gave them the number of the hotel he was going to in Pennsylvania; then he called to let Julia know where he would be as well.  He told her about the hotel switching, and she was even more mystified than he was.</div> <div> Quentin and Amanda drove down to Pennsylvania the next day; her audition was scheduled for the 3rd of January.  As they drove, they talked a little more.  Amanda wanted to know more about Quentin's "secret" job; he didn't want to tell her.  He wanted to know some more of what made Amanda/Olivia tick, and his question brought on another very long conversation about how her hair needed to be just so when she was in public, how hard it was to find the right clothes for some of her photo opportunities and how difficult it was to know who her friends were and who were just people using her to get some favors from her-or to advance themselves in some way.  Oh brother, Quentin thought, trying to pay attention to what she was telling him.  At least it kept her off the subject of Katie and her family.</div> <div> They celebrated Amanda's new job with champagne.  It was the skiing season in the Poconos; the resorts liked to have night club acts for their guests.  Amanda would spend the winter singing at the Mountain Villa in Stroudsburg.  She would have a finely furnished cabin all to herself.  It had a magnificent view. The agency had called and left a report for Quentin that sounded somewhat ominous: after changing hotels another three times, the newly married couple appeared to be heading back to Collinsport. Quentin was flying back the next day; Amanda extracted a promise from him that he would be back with her as soon as possible, and he was determined to leave her satisfied.  He hoped that would keep her happy and off drugs-she would be singing and didn't need to be as lonely as she had been.</div> <bR> <div> Julia told him that very strange things had happened while he was away.  As she drove Quentin to Collinsport from the airport, she told him that Megan Todd was, indeed, a vampire.  She had victimized Roger before Julia and Barnabas were able to find her.  Because it was so close to dawn, Willie was left with the loathsome responsibility of staking her.  Remembering Barnabas' unnamed victim, Quentin shuddered with sympathy for Willie.  Jeb and Carolyn had arrived back at Collinwood.  They were staying at the carriage house, but Jeb was a markedly different person-especially at night. </div> <div> Just as Quentin was sure that nothing stranger could have possibly happened, Julia confided that she was worried about Barnabas.  He seemed to be hallucinating, insisting that he'd found a room in the east wing that changed from time to time.  It would go from being an empty, dusty room to the lavish bedroom of someone who looked remarkably like Angelique.  Barnabas claimed to have seen Julia in the room as well as other members of the family.  <I>Just what we need,</I> thought Quentin, <I>a psychotic vampire.</I>  Even wilder, Barnabas claimed to have evidence that the room was real: a book written by William Hollinshead Loomis.</div> <div> "Willie Loomis!" Quentin exclaimed, breaking up into a wild burst of laughter.  "Oh, come on!"</div> <div> "It doesn't help that Professor Stokes is encouraging him, talking about something called parallel time," Julia lamented.</div> <div> "Some friend," Quentin commented thoughtfully.  "Parallel time, huh?  That's science fiction, Julia."</div> <div> "Not according to Tim Stokes," Julia sighed.</div> <div> Quentin had heard enough.  They were approaching the Inn.  Because of Angelique's spell, Quentin and Julia agreed it would be better if he stayed at the Inn for the time being.  The story they would give Barnabas was that Quentin needed access to a phone for a story (or an assignment, which ever seemed more plausible) he was working on.  The story for the rest of the family was that Quentin needed easy access to the newspaper and its archives.  Julia implied she was an expert at thinking up good stories, and Quentin laughed in genuine admiration of her.</div> <div> Julia dropped him off, planning to come by after Barnabas had risen and bring him out to the Old House for a talk.  Quentin went inside to check in and thought he'd catch a nap.  He was surprised to hear a small, tentative voice say tremulously, "Quentin?"</div> <div> He turned.  It was Sabrina, looking like a terrified rabbit.  "Sabrina!  How'd you know I was here?" He took her by the elbow and guided her to a sofa in the lobby.  She looked like she was going to faint.</div> <div> "I saw you get out of Julia's car and so I came over to talk-I really need to speak to you, Quentin."  Her voice was urgent.</div> <div> "What's wrong?"</div> <div> "It's Chris-he won't let me be near him.  He won't let me help him.  He doesn't realize-" She began, her eyes filling with tears.</div> <div> "It's because of the curse, Sabrina," Quentin explained gently.  "He doesn't want you to get hurt."  At that moment, she seemed so much like the Beth he'd known in 1897 when Magda had cursed him.  </div> <div> "I know.  It's not just that.  It's this Bruno Hess," Sabrina persisted stubbornly, twisting her hands nervously.</div> <div> Quentin leaned forward.  "What about Bruno Hess?"</div> <div> "He's threatening to expose Chris," Sabrina said.  "He wants Chris to do something evil for him-something awful, but he won't say what.  I mean to stop him, Quentin.  Chris wants me to stay out of it, but I just can't."</div> <div> "What are you going to do?" Quentin asked.  Sabrina pressed her lips together tightly and didn't answer.  Quentin didn't like the determined look in her eyes; there was desperation in those eyes too, and murder.  It was a dangerous combination.  "Listen," he said firmly, "don't do anything without me.  I'll go with you.  When were you going to go see him?"</div> <div> "Tonight," Sabrina replied, looking hopeful.  "You'll help?  Really?"</div> <div> "Of course," Quentin declared.  "Let me make a phone call or two and then I'll come to your place.  Where do you live?"</div> <div> Sabrina explained how to find her apartment.  They made arrangements to meet later that evening.      Pleased that he'd convinced Sabrina to wait for him to join her in confronting Bruno, Quentin went to his room to place a call to his lawyer.  He'd had what he thought was a wonderful idea, and going to Pennsylvania had helped him think of it.</div> <div>  He wanted to liquidate some of his holdings to give him enough money to be able to take Chris, Sabrina, and Amy to the old family vacation home in Cuddeback.  That would be an ideal place for them-they would be safe and away from the Leviathans!  Quentin could stay with them as long as they needed to help them get settled in, and he could even drive to Stroudsburg to be with Amanda. He had a feeling he'd find the answer there--maybe not the way to find Beth, that was too much to hope for.  This would be doing what Jenny wanted-it was a way to help Chris...and even though he hadn't been there, he the family installed a bomb shelter in around 1959 or 1960.  It would come in handier than the family ever would have imagined.</div> <div>      His plan was to bribe or threaten Bruno to alleviate Sabrina's fears.  Then he wanted to approach them with his idea.  He wasn't sure how Chris would react.  He and Chris were getting along a little better, but it was sort of an uneasy friendship.  He really couldn't blame him for how he felt.  He was the cause of Chris' problems--why shouldn't Chris resent him for that?  He hung up the phone and knew he'd have to wait about a half-hour for the wire.  He considered going to the Blue Whale for a drink and then decided against it.  He wanted a clear head tonight.  </div> <div>      He hadn't had a chance to really sit down and talk with Barnabas and Julia about all this; he wasn't sure how they'd feel about it.  They'd been so distracted because of Barnabas' increasing cravings for blood.  During the drive to Collinsport, Julia really tried hard to listen to what he was saying about Beth and Chris, but he'd ended up listening patiently to her concerns about Barnabas, the curse, and that room.  He worried about her--she was spreading herself too thin and looked exhausted most of the time.</div> <div>      Instead of going to the Blue Whale, he walked along the main street window-shopping.  He found himself looking at women's clothes--the newest styles in dresses and shoes.  First he imagined Beth in this dress or that one.  He couldn't quite keep her imagine in his mind, and so he thought of Amanda instead.  When that began to depress him, he began to look at the dresses and wonder how Julia would look in them.  It wasn't that he was attracted to her--she was his friend and more like a motherly older sister.  She didn't pay attention to how she looked, and he could tell she was really a very attractive woman.  If she dressed differently, maybe Barnabas would look at her differently, he thought.  But how could he tell Julia something like that?</div> <div>      It was time to pick up the money and almost time to meet Sabrina.  He stopped at Western Union and then began toward Sabrina's apartment--the upstairs of a private residence.  He felt a little dizzy suddenly, and paused to steady himself.  He shook his head, puzzled. That was weird, he thought.  He went inside and up the stairs.  As he was about to knock at the door, he stopped himself. What am I doing here, he wondered, suddenly confused.  Staring at the hand that had been about to rap at the door, he thought, Maggie isn't here.  I should be with her.  Why am I here? He turned on his heel and left abruptly.</div> <div>      Annoyed with himself, he found his motorcycle parked nearby and roared off to Collinwood.  That was where he should've been in the first place.  He parked the bike near the garden and walked toward the gazebo.  He could see her there, beautiful as always, waiting for him.  He took her into his arms.  "I knew you'd be here," he said, pleased, and kissed her.</div> <div>      She put her arms around him and kissed him back.   He felt light-headed again.  They could sit in the gazebo out here in spite of the cold--it was dark, and no one would see them.  He began to move her in that direction when she stopped and protested weakly, "I have to go--I'm supposed to meet Barnabas."</div> <div>      "That doesn't matter now, does it?  Don't go, Maggie. Stay with me--you know you belong with me," he urged her.</div> <div>      "Yes, I know, but--" Her protest died in her throat as he put his lips on hers to silence her.  He pulled her closer to him, so that they stood belly to belly.  He knew she'd be able to feel him pressing into her.  She moved willingly with him to the cushioned bench in the gazebo.  They sat down together, and he leaned forward, pressing her back.</div> <div>      "Maggie, we need to talk to him about this," Quentin said, caressing her face.</div> <div>      "Not now," she whispered, reaching for him.</div> <div>      He leaned toward her, sitting as close to her as possible. He nuzzled her neck, running his fingers through her thick dark hair.  It was so long and beautiful, like Beth's had been when it was long--only she had blonde hair.  Almost instantly, Beth's image was gone and replaced with Maggie again, her features, her scent.  He felt intoxicated.  His other hand opened the buttons of her coat.  Once he got the buttons opened, he was able to move up under her sweater, pushing her bra up so that he could fondle her breast.</div> <div>      He felt someone grab his shoulder in a very tight, painful grasp.  He was pulled to his feet roughly and thrust aside.  Furious, he stepped forward to confront the intruder.  The intruder whirled on him with an angry snarl, baring his teeth. The teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and the canine fangs were long and sharp.  Quentin froze to the spot, terrified.  Barnabas!  His cousin turned back toward Maggie and his demeanor changed.  </div> <div>      Maggie was mortified.  She sat up, pulling her sweater down, pulling her coat closed, and crossing her arms over her breasts.  Her head was down, and Quentin thought he could hear her crying softly.  "Are you all right, Maggie?"  Barnabas asked in a very gentle voice.  "I was worried when you didn't show up."</div> <div>      "I--I'm all--all right, Barnabas," Maggie stuttered miserably.  "I-I'm s-so s-s-sorry..." Her voice trailed off and she began to sob.</div> <div>      Barnabas put his caped arm around her and helped her to her feet.  "Sssh, Maggie," he soothed her.  "I was worried about you.  I'm glad that you are all right.  Let me take you to the house--I'd like to talk to Quentin for a few minutes, and then I'll come back and we can talk.  Will that be all right?"  Quentin heard her indistinct assent as Barnabas led her away.</div> <div>      He felt as if his blood had turned to ice water. I must've been out of my mind, he thought, horrified.  What's he going to do to me?  There was no use running--Barnabas would be able to track him down no matter where we hid.  His only chance was if his cousin would let him explain what had happened.  Sometimes Barnabas was fair and sometimes not, depending on how angry he was.  "Quentin..." he heard Barnabas say, very softly, in a menacing tone.  He turned to face his cousin, guilt sweeping over him.  He never had a chance to say a word.  His last conscious thought was that pain was exploding inside and all around his head, and that he was falling to the ground.</div> <div>      He wasn't sure how long he was unconscious.  He stirred a little and then stopped moving because of the skyrocketing pain in the back of his head.  Even the thought of opening his eyes was painful. He must've hit his head on the bench when Barnabas hit him.  He could hear voices arguing back and forth: Barnabas and Julia.</div> <div>      "He's not dead; at least you don't have that to worry about," Julia was saying.  He could feel her hands on him, probing gently.  She lowered his head to the ground so that he was fully prone.  Silently he thanked her for helping him.  He didn't move and kept his eyes shut.</div> <div>      "I'm not worried about that.  You didn't have any business interfering," Barnabas said coldly.</div> <div>      There was a clicking sound, like a flashlight.  He felt Julia pick up his hand and turn it over.  "Here, Barnabas.  This is what I wanted you to see."  Barnabas drew his breath in sharply.  "Do you recognize this?"</div> <div>      "Angelique," he hissed.</div> <div>      "Yes, isn't this what she did to Jeremiah and Josette?"  There was a pause, and then Julia asked, "What are you going to do?"</div> <div>      "How badly is he hurt?" Now Barnabas sounded a little more concerned than angry.</div> <div>      "He's still unconscious, which isn't a good sign.  He may have a concussion. I won't know until I can get a look at him.  It's too dark here."</div> <div>      "Very well, you'll examine him at the Old House, Julia.  I would prefer not to go to the hospital--not unless it's absolutely necessary."  Quentin felt strong, cold hands on him; he made himself go limp as Lisa had taught him to do.  Seemingly without effort, Barnabas picked him up and put him over his shoulder.  He began to move off into the woods carefully.  Vampires sure are strong, Quentin thought. It felt as though fireworks exploded in his brain with every step that Barnabas took.  After a few minutes, they'd reached the Old House.  The door opened.  Willie's voice, shocked:  "What happened?"</div> <div>      "It was an accident," Barnabas replied gruffly, going up the stairs.  Every step set off more agonizing firecrackers.  He was deposited none too gently onto the bed in Barnabas' room. He knows it's not my fault--why is he so mad, especially after all I've done to help him?  Quentin thought resentfully.  </div> <div>      He felt gentler hands examining him now.  "He's got a bump on the back of his head, Barnabas."  Julia observed. "He hit his head hard when he fell?" </div> <div>      "I suppose he did."</div> <div>      "Normally he doesn't get bumps or bruises.  Let me see if there's a concussion."  She forced his eyelids open and shone a light into his eye.  He tried very hard not to flinch.  She repeated the same process with his other eye.</div> <div>      "Well?"</div> <div>      "Well," Julia began evenly, "there's no sign of a concussion.  I don't see any signs that he has a brain hemorrhage--no blood in his eyes or coming from his ears.  It's possible his skull is fractured, but I don't think so."</div> <div>      "Can I do anythin'..." Willie began.</div> <div>      "Would you bring me some ice?"  Julia asked.  </div> <div>      "Sure, sure, Julia."  Footsteps receded and went down the stairs.</div> <div>      "Barnabas, where are you going?"</div> <div>      "I have something I need to take care of now."</div> <div>      "But--"</div> <div>      "Not NOW, Julia!"  He was gone.</div> <div>      After a few moments, he heard Julia pull up a chair and sit down beside him.  She leaned over him and said in a soft but stern voice, "Stop playing dead now, Quentin.  Open your eyes!"  He heard Willie come into the room and stubbornly kept his eyes shut.</div> <div>      "Is he faking?"  Willie demanded; apparently he'd heard what Julia said.  "I don't trust the son-of-a-bitch, Julia.  You know what he did right before New Year's?  Stabbed Barnabas in the back, that's what he done--you hear me, you bastard?"  Willie's voice had been rising steadily and this last epithet was directed at Quentin, who managed to control his fury and stay still.</div> <div>      "Willie, that's enough.  I know you're upset, but you'll have to let me handle this, all right?"</div> <div>      "All right, whatever you say, Julia," Willie said grudgingly.</div> <div>      "If you want to talk, I'll come down in a little while."</div> <div>      "Thanks."  Willie walked to the door.  Then, nastily, he said:  "I hope he's got one hell of a headache that don't go away for a long time.  He's lucky that Barnabas didn't really beat the shit out of him..." The door closed.</div> <div>      Quentin opened his eyes to find Julia standing over him, looking at him reproachfully and making an ice pack. He shut his eyes tightly again and winced when she put the compress just below and behind his left ear.  "Put your hand there and hold it, Quentin," she instructed, and he obeyed her.  "Look at me again, please."  She sounded very business-like.  He opened his eyes and she shone the light into them again, causing him to wince and blink.  "You're very lucky, you know."</div> <div>      "I know," he whispered miserably.  "Thank you, Julia."</div> <div>      She sighed, exasperated.  "Quentin, I thought you were going to try..."</div> <div>      The misery of the guilt was overwhelming and the pain in his head and face was agonizing.  His eyes filled up with tears, and he let them come, thinking of Beth, of himself, Amanda, Barnabas, Maggie--and Julia.  "I did try.  I was supposed to be somewhere else..." He broke off, horrified.  Sabrina!  Had she tried to see Bruno alone?  "Oh, God!" he exclaimed in despair, hating Angelique bitterly for what she'd done.</div> <div>      "Sh, Quentin," Julia soothed gently.  She sat on the bed next to him.  "If you cry, you're head is going to hurt more.  Try not to upset yourself so.  Barnabas is angry now, but he'll calm down and he'll understand..."</div> <div>      "That's not all," Quentin interrupted.  He struggled to sit up, and then moved so that he could lay his head on Julia's lap. Julia seemed surprised, but then began to stroke his hair gently, as if she was comforting a child. She held the compress to the lump on the back of his head.  "It's Beth!  I miss her--I'm so lonely for her, and I've gotten myself entangled with Amanda and Angelique is making a mockery of that!"  Julia made a soothing sound, trying to comfort him.  "And I was supposed to go with Sabrina tonight--to help Chris!"</div> <div>      He could feel Julia stiffen suddenly.  "Go with Sabrina?  Where?"</div> <div>      "To confront Bruno.  She was planning to shoot him, but I don't think she's capable of that.  I talked her into waiting for me--we'd go together.  I was going to buy him off or trying to scare him off.  I don't know if she's still at her apartment, waiting for good old dependable Quentin--or if she's given up waiting for me and gone to see Bruno alone."</div> <div>      "Oh, God," Julia muttered.  Her voice was mixed with concern and compassion.  "Poor Quentin."  She'd begun to stroke his hair again, thinking.  "I can go to Sabrina's apartment and look for her.  And I know that Bruno's been skulking around the carriage house."</div> <div>      "You can't go there!"  Quentin exclaimed, the tears drying up immediately as concern for Julia took over his thoughts.  "Not without me."</div> <div>      "You have to rest, Quentin.  You should see the lump on the back of your head.  And you have a beautiful shiner."</div> <div>      "Both of which will be gone shortly--we know that."  He sat up again, wincing from the shooting pain in his head.</div> <div>      "You're not going anywhere except to sleep," Julia said firmly.</div> <div>      "Not unless you promise not to go alone.  You've got to take Willie," he insisted.  </div> <div>      At that, Julia's eyes lit up.  "Ah, yes, Willie can help."  He was relieved.  He allowed Julia to push him back gently.  "All right, I'll ask Willie to come with me.  I promise.  Now you promise me--you're going to rest now.  And I don't want you to blame yourself for what's happened."</div> <div>      "I promise I'll rest," he agreed.  "The other--I can't help it.  I know I didn't cast the spell, but...Julia, do you think Barnabas will come back?  I don't think I can face him."</div> <div>      Julia smiled a little with sad, sympathetic understanding.  "Get some sleep then.  You'll be able to face him after you've had some rest."  She rummaged in her bag.</div> <div>      "What are you doing?"</div> <div>      "Something to help you sleep.  I have a feeling you won't if I don't give you something, and someone has to be awake and alert during the day tomorrow."</div> <div>      "But I don't want anything--"</div> <div>      "I'm the doctor here, and I want you to sleep."  She was preparing a shot.</div> <div>      "No pill?" he asked curiously.</div> <div>      "It works faster this way," she explained.  It was useless to argue with her, he realized.  Resigned, he'd started to unbutton his shirtsleeve.  "No, this goes in your hip," Julia said.  "Over on your side, Quentin."  Great, he thought, rolling over obediently and opened his pants so she could give him the shot.  He was embarrassed but Julia was very matter-of-fact.  The medication stung going in, and he grimaced.  "You'll be out in a few minutes.  When you wake up, you'll feel much better," she soothed, pulling his pants back up and patting him.</div> <div>      "If you say so, doctor ".   He felt her draw a light blanket over him.  She switched off the lights on the way out, shutting the door behind him.  <I>Beth</I>, he thought, his eyes filling with tears again.  He could see so clearly it was almost as if he could reach out and touch her.  There was a sad smile on her face--this was how she'd looked before the police in Berlin had separated them.  <I>Where are you Beth?  Where did they take you?  Are you alive?</I>  He thought he would've felt it if she'd died.  But where was she?  And when could he persuade Julia and Barnabas to help him find her?  He faded into a deep sleep.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>      <A HREF="id120.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Carrying the Weight"><U>11:  Carrying the Weight</U></A>    <A HREF="id122.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Barnabas Crisis"><U>13:  Barnabas' Crisis</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>