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Haunting Memories |
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Part 4 Chapter 25Julia and Nick exchanged confused and somewhat worried looks. Something was not right here, that was for sure. "Quentin… I think that you were right. It’s not a good idea for us to walk right into the ghost’s trap." Quentin looked over at Nick sharply, their eyes locking. A wry smile played out on Quentin’s lips as he watched Nick squirm under his intense gaze. "Are you afraid to enter the halls of Collinwood my boy? I would have thought that for one of your age and power, you could handle more than an average mortal could. What a pity that I seem to have over-estimated you." "Quentin –" Nick started only to be interrupted by Julia. "This isn’t Quentin, Nick. You know as well as I do that Quentin Collins would never speak to us this way." Nick was completely lost and confused. He had no idea what Julia was talking about and Quentin’s behavior made no sense either. "What--" "Dear doctor," Quentin started smoothly, ignoring Nick completely. "I have always held a secret admiration for you. You’re a realist my dear, always so quick and to the point. I like that, gives me more of a challenge." "Why don’t YOU get to the point? Who are you and what do you want?" "You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? Who else would have the power that I have? Come now doctor, even Quentin was able to put 2 & 2 together. You and Quentin have both surprised me, I would have thought that you would have guest my identity before he… but then I suppose I always have underestimated Quentin a little. To answer your question my dear, I am Count Andreas Petofi… of course." Julia inhaled sharply. ‘Of course, he should have been the first I suspected. Oh Julia you old fool!’ she thought to herself ‘This must have been what Quentin was going to tell Nick and me.’ "What have you done to Quentin?" She asked as her face took on her all too familiar ‘no-nonsense’ look that those around her knew only too well. "I’ve put him back where he belongs dear doctor. Well… almost, you see he will be where he belongs at precisely 11:45pm tonight." Petofi, in Quentin’s body said as he began to chuckle deviously. "And where exactly do you think Quentin belongs?" Julia asked, she refused to be intimidated by this… this thing that claimed to me a human being. "Why… in the grave of course." Petofi smiled cruelly. "I won’t let you do this to him Petofi!" "You are completely powerless to stop me. Quentin thought he could defeat me, trick me… KILL me? Oh no, you see I can’t simply let him get away with such a crime. HE was the one that was supposed to die on September 10th, and so he shall. Like he did the first time before you and Barnabas changed history. When his spirit is killed in the past then I will be free to have this rather appealing body… permanently." Julia was furious with rage, she despised this evil creature just as Barnabas and poor Quentin did. She couldn’t let him get away with this. If he did there was no telling what mayhem Petofi would and could cause in the present time. "You won’t get away with this Petofi! If Quentin dies in the past then his body will no longer exist now and you will have no body to occupy!" "Dear doctor, you are wrong there. Quentin’s spirit will die in the past but I will see to it that his body will not, you underestimate my powers still. That surprises me. You see… time is a complex puzzle with many layers and facets to it. It works in many mysterious ways… I don’t believe anyone can comprehend it completely. Not even I. However I do know much more about time than you do doctor, or Quentin, or Nick OR even the ever-allusive LaCroix. One advantage to being dead is that one understands much more than in life and I had lots of time to learn." Petofi finished as he swaggers over to the clock sitting beside Nick’s hotel room bed. The bright green light glowed 3:33am as he picked it up off the nightstand. "Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock." Petofi taunted, his head moving right to left, right to left to accentuate his words. "Time is running out for Quentin Collins and there is nothing either of you can do about it. At approximately 11:45pm Quentin’s fate will be sealed and I will have won. There is one thing you may not know about Quentin’s death that I would like to tell you about, by the time you went back in time Barnabas Collins had already changed the past a great deal. His tragic encounter with Beth Chavez was not the way his death originally happened. Perhaps you already knew that? After all, in 1968 the children opened up his room in the West Wing and let HIS spirit out and free to haunt Collinwood and it’s residence. The children, David and Amy, found his skeleton and buried it on the Collinwood grounds. It is apparent to me that he was trapped within his room and died there too. His death originally was much more painful and prolonged I believe than the way it was played out the second time, and so that will be the way he dies this time. After all your tinkering and playing with time I will set it straight once and for all." Julia made an attempt for the door but Petofi easily intercepted her. "I don’t think so dear doctor. I have a feeling I should keep an eye on both of you until midnight at least… then you two will be free to do what you wish. I don’t think you can stop what is going to happen… but it’s best not to underestimate ones enemies as I am sure you have learned by now." "You may be able to stop her ‘Petofi’ but you cannot stop me from leaving here!" Nick told him matter-of-factly. "Oh really? And why do you think that? Is it because you are a Vampire and ‘possess’ certain powers?" Nick was taken aback momentarily, but only momentarily. "Yes." Petofi gave Nick a half-smile and then asked, "Is good memory not a part of your powers Nick?" "I remember everything!" Nick told him angrily, having had enough of this ‘man’. "Then what do you remember about that clover shaped mark on your hand?" Nick looked down at his hand, he had completely forgotten about the mark the ghost had left the night Quentin was crushed by the tree branch. It was still there; it should have disappeared by now. Petofi burst out laughing. "Yes – as long as you wear that mark on your hand you will lack the vampires natural ‘talents’. Don’t believe me? Then try to leave using your powers." Nick took a deep breath. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Concentrating he made his vampiric attempt for the door – only one thing was missing. His vampiric speed. "Well, now that we’ve cleared the air and you both know your position in this matter we can all relax, have a drink and watch the time tick by minute by minute." ~*~ September 10th, 1897 3:45am Charity stared at the ceiling. She just couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t slept since she found out the terrible secret Quentin Collins held. How could she have ever fallen in love with Quentin? He was evil, a murderer and he wasn’t even human! What a failure she was too her father, the Rev. Gregory Trask. She was a horrible judge of character, how could she not have seen through Quentin’s disguise? Acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush she had flirted with him and begged for his attention. Totally oblivious to the fact that he was a murderer, a creature of the supernatural… a werewolf! She never wanted to see Quentin Collins again. Ever. She rolled over on her side, then to the other. It was no use; she couldn’t fall asleep tonight with all this on her mind. She knew she couldn’t keep on like this, she would have to tell someone eventually. If she didn’t she was certain she would go mad. Getting out of bed she put on her robe and slippers, it was drafty and cold in Collinwood especially now that the winter season was approaching. Once downstairs she was surprised to find that she apparently wasn’t the only one up tonight. Dim light came from the under the closed drawing room doors. Maybe it was better that someone else was up, she needed the company. Except… what if it was Quentin? The thought of encountering him alone at this early hour when the rest of the family was asleep made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She knocked on the doors two times, softly. "Come in?" a familiar voice from the opposite side of the door called expectantly. Charity smiled, opening the drawing room doors. "Oh, I’m so glad it’s you." * Quentin opened his eyes slowly waiting for them to come into focus. He felt tired, groggy and had a splitting headache. What had happened? He was lying down in bed, but he didn’t remember doing so. "Ohhh" Quentin moaned to himself, "I must have had too much to drink." As his mind cleared he began to remember. The ghost, the visions, the music…. Petofi! Quentin leaped out of bed, what was he doing in bed?! He had to meet with Julia and Nick and decide on a course of action before time ran out for him. Quentin froze looking around as if for the first time. Something wasn’t right here. He was in his room. But not the hotel room. He was in his old room. "Oh no." He looked down at himself. He was dressed in his charcoal blue frock coat and pants. He looked over at himself in the mirror as his old self starred back, mutton-chops and all. "Well Quentin ‘ol boy this is getting to be the norm for you isn’t it?" he said to his reflection in the mirror. Quentin sighed heavily trying to keep calm. He was in deep now… and he needed a glass of brandy. Maybe two or three glasses of brandy. * "Charity, I know that this may not be the best time to bring this up but about your future suitor…" Charity’s eyes widened in fear, she had been dreading this moment since the last time her father had brought it up. "Father… please, you can’t make me marry Quentin Collins. You can’t!" "Charity! I am tired of your sniveling; it is very necessary that you marry him… and immediately!" "No, I-" "You are to do what your father tells you Charity." Rev. Trask said sternly, having enough of her whining and complaining. "Divine providence has sent us here for a reason. Remember your mission, the mission that I have set for you. You and you alone can save Quentin Collins." "No one can save Quentin Collins!" Charity cried, breaking down. She couldn’t handle it anymore. All the secrets, the lies… it had to stop here and now. She would never marry Quentin, for anything or anyone. Not even for her father. She had to tell him the truth, if she did she would not have to marry him… he would see to it that Quentin was put away, she was sure of it! "Father, you don’t know Quentin. But I do, I do and I will never marry him." She said firmly, renewed by her decision to tell her father everything. "What are you talking about? What don’t I know Charity?" Reverend Trask asked suspiciously. Charity swallowed hard and wiped the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. She had to do this, if not for anything else but her own sanity. She had kept quiet far too long. "His secret… Quentin’s horrible and vile secret!"
Chapter 26 Trask’s eyes widened. "Secret? Charity my dear," he said calmly as he gently grabbed hold of Charity’s arm and led her to the sofa in the drawing room. His curiosity aroused, "Take a deep breath and tell me all about Quentin’s … terrible secret." Charity sat down on the couch taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, trying to get a hold of herself. She had to tell her father about Quentin’s unbelievable secret sanely; otherwise he was likely to think she was a few eggs short of an omelet. "I know this will sound unbelievable father but you must believe me, you must! I… I have to tell someone or I think I will go out of my mind!" * Quentin grabbed a handful of his clothes out of the dresser and threw them into his tiny brown, worn out suitcase. It was worn out with reason; it had been everywhere from Collinsport to England, from France to Egypt and back again. Going over to his dresser he opened up the right bottom shelf and took out his passport and the little money that he had managed to save. There was only one way that Quentin could think of to stop his destiny with death and that was to leave Collinwood and Collinsport far behind. * Charity looked down at her hands, they were shaking uncontrollably as tears ran down her face. Wiping the tears away from her dark blue eyes she continued. "I’ll … uh, I-I guess I better start at the beginning. A few weeks ago I had a dream about Quentin, at the end of it Magda appeared and told me to stay away from him and to forget him. She also said that she knew why Quentin acts the way he does… the gypsy said she knew Quentin’s secret. When I awoke I was confused and frightened and decided to go and talk to Magda. So I got dressed and left Collinwood on my way to the old house, it must have been around 7:00 or 7:30am." Charity paused and looked up at her father who was listening intently. "Go on my dear, what happened then?" Trask asked, eager to hear anything that might help him dispose of Quentin - a constant thorn in Trask’s side. "Well, I was walking in the woods. On the path that leads to the old house when I heard a moan. It was Quentin, he was lying just off the path. His clothes were all torn and bloody and Quentin was out cold. I thought he had been attacked and got up to get help… that’s when I saw the woman lying only a few feet away from him. She was hurt terribly; her face had been clawed as if by a wild animal. It was Tessie Kincade father, the woman Jamison had run across in the woods and came to you to go get her. When I looked back at Quentin I noticed that he had a piece of Tessie’s dress in his hand. That’s when I figured it out father…. Quentin, Quentin is the animal! He’s the one everyone’s been hunting on every full moon! He was the one who killed Dorcas, Tessie and lord knows who else! Father, you must do something, he is a murderer!" "This is beyond belief! Charity, why didn’t you come to me with this right away?!" Trask asked incredulously. "Please forgive me father! But Quentin threatened me with my life; I was so scared… I know I should have came to you father but-but I was afraid he would kill me!" Charity sobbed as tears ran down her cheeks, ashamed of herself and her lack of courage. "I am very glad you have come to me with this Charity. Quentin must be dealt with immediately, if everything you said is true than he is a disciple of the devil! He is a creature of the supernatural, a maniacal murderer!" Trask smiled inwardly, this would finish Quentin for good and then no one would stand in his way from taking over Collinwood. "We must tell Edward at once!" Trask said as he looked down at the sobbing Charity. A cruel smile crossed over his lips. He couldn’t wait to see Edward’s face when he came to him with this news about his brother. "Charity, I want you to stop that sniveling and find Edward at once! I believe he is in his bedroom, it is early yet and it is likely he is still asleep." "But fath-" "No ‘buts’ Charity! Do as I tell you immediately!" Charity stood up quickly, shocked by her father’s tone. Hurriedly she exited the drawing room muttering "Yes, father" as she passed him in search of Edward. Trask stood in the drawing room, thoroughly pleased with the early morning’s developments. No – Quentin Collins would never be a problem again. * Quentin opened his closet and searched for anything else he wanted to bring with him. He caught a glimpse of his I-Ching wands wrapped in cloth and grabbed the bundle and the mysticism book underneath them, placing them in his suitcase. He pulled out his old trunk and opened it. It contained his past; his childhood… he would have to leave most of it behind but there was one thing that he had to bring with him. Searching through the trunk he pulled out albums, papers, toys and clothing before he finally found what he wanted. It was an old portrait of his mother and father, painted before he was born. It was small, 6x4 inches but it meant a lot to him. After placing the picture in his suitcase he began to put things back into the trunk, pausing when he grabbed an old dress. He laid it out on the floor and realized it was the same dress his mother was wearing in the portrait. It was all white with a flowery design embroidered onto the fabric and the skirt would reached all the way to the floor, it had puffy long sleeves and a thick plain fabric belt came with it and made the dress fit snuggle around a woman’s waist. ‘Beth would look lovely in this.’ Quentin thought to himself. ‘Beth…’. He couldn’t just leave Beth behind… she was the one woman he truly loved and the one woman who truly loved him in return. He would have to take her with him… he just hoped she could pack fast. Quentin ran out of his room heading towards the servant’s quarters, taking the back way… dress in hand. * Edward yawned sleepily as he slowly made his way down the foyer stairs, fixing his tie at the same time. He didn’t appreciated being aroused out of a sound slumber by Charity Trask at 2:30 in the morning. As Edward entered the drawing room he looked sternly at the Reverend Gregory Trask with Charity standing right beside him. "This had better be something earth shattering Reverend." He said in a huff, his dislike for Trask seeping into his words. "Oh it is Edward. Believe me… it is." "Well" Edward said, waiting for someone to explain. "Would someone kindly tell me what this is all about and why it couldn’t wait till morning?" "It’s about your brother Quentin and the secret he has been hiding from you for quite some time now." * "Oh Quentin, this is a gorgeous dress! I’ve never owned such an expensive and lovely dress before!" Beth said happily as she held up the dress, admiring it. "But I don’t understand why you’re hear at this hour of the night, it’s not just because you wanted to give me this dress is it? By the way, where did you get this dress Quentin… the material must be imported, I’ve never seen anything like this at any shops in Collinsport." "I was going through one of my old trunks, it had all sorts of things from my childhood in it. I found this dress inside it. It was my mother’s… I want you to have it Beth. I think you would look stunning in it, it looks like it will fit you… doesn’t it?" "Quentin! This must mean a lot to you, I couldn’t possibly accept it!" Beth told him, reluctantly handing back the dress. "No, no, no. It’s yours; I want you to have it. Besides…" Quentin said as he wrapped his arms around Beth lovingly, "I’m not going to wear it.". They both laughed lightly as they kissed each other passionately. "This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me Quentin… thank you." Quentin smiled; he was glad he made her happy with the present. He remembered how he treated her the first time and wouldn’t make the same mistake again. "Go put it on Beth, let’s see how you look in it." * Edward sat on the drawing room couch in shocked silence. "Think about it Edward," Trask said, enjoying ever minute of this conversation. "It makes perfect sense. Do you ever remember seeing Quentin recently on a night where there is a full moon? Did he ever, once help all of us go searching for the mysterious animal? Remember how strange he’s been acting lately? He’s changed a great deal within the last few months, has he not?" "I-I just can’t believe it. My own brother, a werewolf!" Edward thought of how frantic Quentin was a few months ago… he was convinced that damn gypsy Magda was going to set some kind of curse on him. Edward didn’t believe in any of it then… but was it possible? Did Magda actually do what she had threatened after Quentin accidentally killed Jenny, his wife and Magda’s sister? "Edward, something must be done about Quentin right away – today. He’s already killed and he will kill again unless we stop him!" "But what can we do?" Edward asked, still in shock. He didn’t know how anyone could stop what’s been happening. "Edward, surely you know what must be done. Can’t you see? Quentin’s just like Barnabas Collins! An evil unnatural creature! He was even friends with Barnabas, I suspect he may have helped Barnabas kill Carl." "What? What makes you think that Reverend?" "Poor Carl, rest his soul told me that he had shown Barnabas’ hidden coffin in the mausoleum to Quentin before he told me. I suspect now that there may have been more too it." Edward got up from the couch, regaining his composure. He knew what had to be done. He looked at Trask with a new sense of mission, "We have no choice but to dispose of Quentin – forever." Chapter 27 "Beth, you look beautiful. It’s like the dress was made for you." Quentin said to Beth lovingly. "Thank you so much Quentin, I love it and it fits perfectly! She went over to the mirror and looked at herself in the dress, it was like looking at another person. Beth ran her hand across the soft fabric and smiled. "Quentin, why did you really come here this morning?" Beth asked seriously. "Beth, how would you like to go on a trip with me?" "A trip? To where?" "Anywhere you’d like to go! Just you and me, what do you say Beth?" "What brought this on Quentin? I’ve been trying to get you to go away with me for a month and you had your heart set against it. And what about your baby daughter Lenore?" "Beth, I can’t explain but I have to leave today and I want you with me. I’m not talking about forever and Lenore would be much safer here than with me… at least while I am still cursed. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a cure while we’re away. Please Beth, say you’ll come with me." Beth looked at Quentin for a few moments before answering. "You really want me to come with you, don’t you?" "Yes Beth, I do." "Quentin, the last time you did this you were in trouble. Tell me honestly Quentin, are you in danger? Is that why you want to leave today." "You’re right Beth, I am in danger and the sooner we leave the safer we’ll both be." Beth sighed, "OK Quentin, I’ll go with you. I had better get ready to go then." Quentin smiled happy and relieved. He kissed Beth quickly, "I’m so glad you’re going with me my darling! Hurry and get packed, I’m going to my room and make sure I’ve finished my packing too. Meet me there Beth, please hurry." Beth watched Quentin leave her room worriedly. She wondered what kind of trouble he could be in this time. Quentin seemed to attract trouble like a moth is attracted to a flame. Following him was perhaps the stupidest thing she could do. She knew what he was like and how he could charm her into doing almost anything. Sometimes she doubted her own sanity. Beth walked over to her bed and pulled her suitcase out from underneath it. She had better hurry up and pack. * "Trask, I’m not sure I can go through with this plan of yours. I may dislike Quentin to put it mildly, but what you’ve suggested… well it’s just plain cruel." Edward said to the Reverend Trask. "I’m not sure I can go through with it." "Edward, he cannot be allowed to continue this cursed existence. He is a danger to everyone living at Collinwood and Collinsport!" Edward took a deep breath, he wished Judith wasn’t at the sanitarium. He always had found it hard to make important family decisions without consulting her first. "You’re right of course Reverend. I’ll tell the servants to start preparing the necessary things right away." * Quentin went back to his room and poured himself a brandy, leaving the door open for Beth. He wondered…would something as simple as leaving Collinwood and Collinsport stop his death? It was worth a try but deep down inside he knew that his little plan would never work, not in a million years. It would never be this easy, especially for him. He took a deep gulp of brandy and enjoyed its burning sensation as the liquid slowly went down his throat. He hoped Beth would come soon, with each second he stayed his chances of defeating his destiny became smaller and smaller. He reached over to his gramophone to turn it on when the sound of his door slamming shut stopped him in his tracks. Looking over towards the door he heard the sound of a key turning in it and then heavy footsteps walking away as quickly as they came. Leaping from his chair Quentin raced over to the door and tried to turn the knob only to feel it stop half way. The door was locked from the outside. "Hey! Hey! What the hell is going on here?!" Quentin yelled as he began to pound on the door with his fists. "Why have you locked me in?! Hey! Let me out of here!". Quentin’s stomach felt like lead, he had been too slow in leaving Collinwood. No one was going to open the door. 5:03am… Quentin’s death had begun. * Startled, Beth spun around quickly and was surprised to find Edward in her doorway. "Beth, you’re to come with me into town immediately." "Mr. Collins, I—" "You will do as I tell you Beth, I don’t want to hear another word leave your lips." * Quentin stopped pounding on his door - it was no use. Plus his fists began to hurt. No one lived in the West Wing but him and if someone was really serious about locking Quentin in his room then he doubted if that someone would let anyone wander around the wing and give them a chance to hear Quentin’s pathetic cries for help. He had to think and he had to think fast. He looked down at the knob on his door. Yes, the lock could be picked from the inside… and he was quite good at picking locks. Looking around his room for something he remembered the stickpin that was in his roll top desk and retrieved it quickly. Returning to his door he kneeled down and began to work on the lock in his expert fashion. Thud….Thud. Quentin dropped the stickpin and fell back at the sound of the thuds coming from the other side of the door. Listening a few more thuds followed… it sounded like… hammering. Someone was hammering something outside his door. Anger replacing his panic Quentin shouted out at his mysterious visitor, "Who are you!? Are you afraid to say something? Answer me!" "Why Quentin, I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving demands." Quentin’s eyes narrowed into slits as his anger flared. "Well I should have known it would be you Trask!" "Don’t bother to pick the lock on your door Quentin, I’ve just added a dead bolt to make sure you stay in there for as long as I wish you too. You won’t be getting out of there any time soon." "Damn you to hell Trask! Why are you doing this to me?!" "I know the foul and evil creature that you are Quentin Collins and it is my duty to the almighty to destroy you forever!" Quentin laughed, sharp and bitter. "Who do you think you’re fooling? Do you really honestly believe you are doing god’s work? You’re nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing! But one day Trask, one day you’ll pay. Whether I am there to see it or not… you’ll pay." "Say what you will about me Mr. Collins but I at least I’m human…" "That, dear Trask, is debatable." "…but you, you’re a lycanthrope… a werewolf! You’ve managed to keep your vile secret well Quentin, but no longer. I have told Edward everything, it might interest you to know that he agreed to this whole plot that’s being played out now." Quentin took one step away from the door. Silent… Dumbstruck. It wasn’t possible… it couldn’t be. His brother Edward would never agree to something so cruel… never! "You’re lying!" Quentin said forcefully but hurt at the same time. His brother couldn’t hate him that much, could he? Even if he knew the truth… Quentin was his brother, his flesh and blood. "Indeed I am not Quentin. He might even dispose of you himself." Trask said smugly. Abruptly he turned around and headed back down the hall leaving Quentin broken by the realization of his brother’s hate for him. His brother would never kill him though, that much Quentin was sure of. Quentin took a few deep breaths, slow and deliberate. Clearing his mind he tried to think clearly… and surely enough a plan began to formulate in his mind. It was dangerous and the chances were slim but it might just work. Maybe it wouldn’t save his life but it might help finally clear up the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the Collins family. And it might just help him bring down Count Petofi once and for all. Quentin opened his suitcase and got out his I-Ching wands. "Well, I guess I didn’t need to pack after all." Quentin said to himself wryly as he put his suitcase on the floor and cleared off the small table in the middle of his room and sat down. Slowly he unwrapped the powerful wands, what he was planning could very well destroy him but at this point he didn’t have much to lose. He was going to die anyway if things continued to progress as they were now and there was no time to waste. Closing his eyes he hesitated only a moment before throwing the wands on the table. After forming the hexagram Quentin looked it up in the book. It was the hexagram of infinity. Quentin gave a small smile. It almost seemed fitting. Quietly he read the description of the chosen hexagram out loud. "Those guided by the hexagram of infinity will not be bound by time or place. But beware of time as it can be your greatest ally or your worst foe. A strong mind will conquer and infinite knowledge may be thy power. Infinite space will be within your reach as the North Star shows you your path." Quentin set down the book, his palms sweaty. He knew what he was about to do could prove to be a disaster but he had no other choice. He reached over to his glass of brandy and downed the rest in one swallow. No sense in letting good brandy go to waste if he should never return. Setting both hands on the table Quentin closed his eyes and began to concentrate… trying to reach the door that entered into the realm of infinity’s hexagram. Chapter 28 Closing his eyes Quentin concentrated hard, clearing his mind of all things but the door that he wanted to enter… the door that would bring him success or death. At first he saw nothing but darkness… but ever so slowly a door began to take shape in front of him, made of solid steal with the hexagram of infinity hanging on it. The appearance was foreboding and caused him to hesitate. ‘Anything could be beyond that door’ Quentin thought, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure if this was such a good idea. * Beth sat in Mrs. Fillmore’s living room, she had no idea why Edward had brought her here but something was definitely going on that she didn’t know about. Edward had behaved so strangely, lying to her about going to town and then practically dragging her out of the house only to dump her at Mrs. Fillmore’s cottage with no explanation, leaving immediately after dropping Beth off. Quentin was going to wonder what had happened to her, she just prayed he didn’t leave town thinking she had changed her mind about going with him. "Would you like a cup of tea dear?" Mrs. Fillmore asked sweetly bringing Beth back from her thoughts. Mrs. Fillmore was a lovely old lady who loved children but was never able to have one of her own. Beth trusted her implicitly and had no qualms with the woman taking care of Quentin and Jenny’s baby daughter Lenore. "Yes please." Beth said smiling as she watch the old lady retreat to her kitchen. Beth thought of the last time Quentin visited his daughter, only two days before. She knew Quentin loved his daughter and would have done anything in his power to care for her himself if he could. Quentin’s eyes lit up every time he looked at Lenore and he never tired of her. Beth smiled sadly, many would doubt it but she knew Quentin would be a wonderful father. Better than Edward ever was or Judith ever would be. He had the heart for it, no matter how much he tried to cover it up with his false callousness. Beth had never forgiven herself for keeping Quentin’s children a secret from him, when he found out about his son’s death he was far more broken and hurt by the news than she had ever imagined, almost destroying him. It was her fault he was never able to lay eyes on his baby son when he was alive, Quentin never said anything to Beth about it but Beth new it to be true. She prayed that he would at least be able to raise his daughter, if only he could find the cure to his terrible curse… she was sure they could all start over and live a happy life together. * The entrance appeared before Quentin, it’s metal exterior taunting him, begging him to come closer. ‘This is what you wanted Quentin’ a voiced seemed to whisper in his ear. The voice, dry and scratchy like sandpaper… grating at his nerves. ‘closer… closer… come closer… closer… closer’ the voice said as it continued it’s mantra pulling, tugging, pleading Quentin to open the foreboding door and enter it’s dangerous and unknown realm. ‘closer… come closer… closer’ it continued. Quentin took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Did it again. ‘Open the door, it’s what you want to do, it’s what you’re going to do…’ the irritating voice repeated. Over and over and over like an old scratched up record. It echoed through Quentin’s mind like a scream would inside a cave… retreating into the deepest darkest depths only to come back again. ‘Open the door, open, open, open!’ it continued, growing impatient and more and more agitated with each second Quentin continued his procrastination. ‘Open, open, open!" Quentin just couldn’t take the voices’ verbal assault any longer; he took a tentative step towards the door with rubbery legs and sweaty palms. Another step. Then another. The door right before him now, so close. So close he could reach out and touch it, push it open and reveal what lies beyond it… so he did. The cold steal greeted his fingertips like ice. Its sensation spreading up his arm and down his spine. The heavy door swung open easily, perhaps too easily, as if a strong breeze had caught it as it opened. But there was no breeze, of course. Quentin held his breath, closed his eyes (as if it would make the difficult task any easier). A test of his bravery, Quentin lifted up his lead-heavy leg… and stepped through the door, the other leg following suit, stepping into the world of the unknown. * Julia looked over at an anxious Nick, they’re panic increasing with each minute that ticked past. With Nick’s powers neutralized by Petofi and Julia with no ideas they were at Petofi’s mercy. That was something neither of them could stand. Petofi, in Quentin’s body smiled deviously and took another sip of his brandy. "Are you two sure you don’t want some brandy? Nick… you’re awfully pale, you sure you don’t want anything to drink?" He smiled wider and then continued, "Oh yes, that’s right. You probably want something a little thicker. I’m sorry my boy, but I tend to like my adversaries weak. I intend to keep you that way until after it’s all over." Nick shot Petofi a look of pure hatred, "I’ll be just fine Petofi." Inwardly though he was not so sure, it had been quite some time since he last fed and his stomach was beginning to get the all to familiar burning that came whenever he deprived himself of what he needed. * The air was as thick as syrup, barely seeping into Quentin’s lungs. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, afraid at what he is going to find. It was then that he saw the cause for his labored breathing, mist. It was thick, like a fog. Steamy mist that seemed to rise from the floor, if he could have seen the floor…he couldn’t possibly see more than 2 or 3 feet away from where he was standing. The mist seemed to pull apart like moist taffy, only to drift back together again. Over and over and over the process repeated as if the steamy mist was a living, breathing thing. As if it was capable of thinking, feeling, seeing, and multiplying. Quentin shuddered at the prospect. Then, slowly the figure appeared again… directly in front of him, a mere two feet away. Same as before. Made from the mist that surrounded them both. It was only a form with no features… no face. It pointed to Quentin with what Quentin imagined to be a long, slender finger. "This Quentin Collins, will be your last chance." It said, its voice as thick as the foggy mist that hung around them. "Your last chance to set things right Quentin Collins and send Count Andreas Petofi to the hell in which he truly belongs. But before you continue remember two things. One, the effects of the I-Ching trance, whatever they may be, will only be temporary. Waste no time, do what you must… discover what became of your family that disappeared in 1969, for that is the key and will help you later, how I cannot say. Second, keep in mind that no matter how hopeless things will seem for you in the future it will not be to late to set history, present and future right again… if you remain true to yourself and remember who you are. Don’t let tragedy, deceit and betrayal change you." The figure finished, starting to fade back into the mist from which it originated. As the final particles of its shape faded away it bid Quentin a friendly farewell as it whispered "The best of luck to you, Quentin Collins." Once the figure disappeared the mist seemed to follow it, like it was being sucked into a black hole that the figure created when it left. Then, nothing was left… no mist and no figure. Nothing at all. * "Please, call me… Quentin." Petofi said devilishly to Julia and Nick. "Never!" Julia spat, her hatred bubbling over. "I don’t know how Petofi, but you’ll be stopped. I know it." Petofi laughed with the look of pure glee on his face. "Oh, I doubt that very much my dear Julia. In a manner of speaking, I’ve already won!" Petofi started to get up to fill his glass with more brandy when he suddenly wavered badly and fell back into his seat with a thud. Julia and Nick exchanged surprised looks, Petofi jolted once… twice, then closed his eyes and laid still. Wasting no time Julia leaped to her feet and started for the door as a scream pierced the room’s silence. Julia stopped dead in her tracks as both her and Nick watched as Petofi slowly opened his eyes. He moaned softly as he brought his hand up to his head. Looking around, his vision blurred as he asked weakly "Where am I…" "What the matter Petofi, you have one too many glasses of brandy?" Julia shot back sarcastically. "Pet-Petofi? What are you talking about Julia…." His eyes opened wider as he frantically looked around the room. "Julia…. Julia! I made it! I’m back in the present! Oh, thank god!" Nick and Julia exchanged suspicious looks. Nick took a cautious step forward before speaking, "Quentin? Is it really you again?" Quentin sighed heavily with relief and offered Nick a large smile. "Yes, it’s me Nick." "Wait a minute, how do we know it’s not just another one of Petofi’s devious plots." Julia asked him suspiciously, she wasn’t going to be fooled easily. "Just ask me a question only Quentin would know." "OK" Julia said, thinking. "How did you meet both of us, the first time." "I met you Julia back in my time, 1897. When you came back in time to warn Barnabas about the date of my death, after I survived I came to the rectory where Barnabas was keeping you. You came out of your shock and told Barnabas and me that David was alive and that my ghost had disappeared. As for Nick, I met him at Collinwood… he was being chased by Petofi’s ghost." "Thank God it’s you Quentin!" Julia said with a sigh of relief, obviously convinced with Quentin’s evidence. Nick walked up to Quentin and gave him a playful slap on the back as he smiled and said "It’s nice to have you back ol’ man!" Quentin smiled lightly at his friends but the figures warning was like a siren in his ears. ‘The effects of the I-Ching trance are only temporary, waste no time.’ Quentin frowned at the thought. He needed to figure out what he is going to do, there was no telling how much time he was going to have here in the present before the I-Ching trace wore off… or before Petofi made his move to reclaim his ‘new’ body. "Nick, Julia… I don’t have much time here; at least I don’t think I do. We have to figure out a way for you two to bring me back to the present if or when I get forced back to 1897." Julia and Nick exchanged confused and worried looks. "You mean you haven’t defeated Petofi?" Julia asked. "No, I don’t think so. It would never be this easy, and if my hunch is correct then I’m only in temporary control of my body. I’m going to need your guys’ help if any of us are ever going to defeat Petofi." Nick looked up at Quentin hopefully. "I hope that means you have something in mind ‘cause I’m fresh out of any ideas that would be even remotely helpful at this point." Quentin looked over at his two friends, a gleam in his eye and a mischievous smile on his lips. "Indeed I do." Chapter 29 Quentin walked over to the window, it must have been daytime he surmised since the blinds and curtains were drawn shut for Nick. "Since I don’t know how long I’m going to be here in the present you two may have to do this alone. If I can help you I will, of course, but I’m going to write down in detail what I need you guys to do so that if the occasion calls for it, you can do this without me." Quentin said as he searched the room until he came up with a pad of paper and a pen. "Just what do you have in mind Quentin?" Nick asked as he watched Quentin hurriedly write down instructions on the pad of paper. "We can’t destroy Petofi alone, we need more help…. So tonight at midnight we’re going to summon an old ally of mine, one who helped Barnabas, Julia and I battle Petofi in the past." Quentin stopped writing for a moment as he met Nick & Julia’s confused looks. "We are going to summon a witch… and her name is Angelique." "Angelique! Quentin, you must be completely out of your mind! You know you can’t trust her." Julia all but shouted, totally against the idea. Quentin had a feeling she would be. "Who’s Angelique?" Nick interjected, completely lost which seemed to be becoming all too common for him here in this quaint little Maine town called Collinsport. "Nick – Julia or myself can fill you in later." "Quentin, we shouldn’t-" Julia started only to be interrupted by Quentin. "Julia, I of all people know exactly what Angelique is like, probably more than you do. I also know the powers she possesses and we need them very badly right now. You two are going to have to have help if you want any chance of bringing me back to the present permanently and you know it. To defeat Petofi we are going to need all four of us battling him together." "What makes you think she’ll help us?" "Come on Julia, you know as well as I do that Angelique detests Petofi as much as you and I do. I believe she would side with practically anyone to defeat that man. Besides, she and I parted on friendly terms with no hard feelings so there is no reason to think that Angelique would turn on us now…" and finished playfully, "in our hour of need." Julia sighed, "I still don’t think it’s a good idea Quentin, she is completely unpredictable." "Yes Julia and you worked with her to help bring back Barnabas in 1897 as I recall… I’m not going to fight with you about this. I don’t have the time and we are wasting precious seconds. You are going to have to trust me, both of you. Otherwise we will lose this battle and I for one don’t like the idea of being dead." Quentin said getting impatient and frustrated. Nick and Julia could see that the stress of everything was getting to him and they couldn’t blame him. His whole life, past, present and future were on the line. "Both of you promise me that you will carry out all of my instructions here whether you agree with them or not… please." Nick and Julia looked at each other briefly and nodded their heads in agreement. "We promise Quentin." Nick said solemnly. Quentin smiled slightly, "good, good…" he said almost to himself, visibly relieved. He handed Julia the note pad with his instructions. "I’m going to Collinwood, there is something that I have to do and I have to do it alone. If I don’t return by 11:45pm I think you can assume that something has happened and I want you to start the ceremony to summon Angelique without me. When I do return, no matter what time, I want you two to take the same precautions you did before to make sure that I’m me and not Petofi back in my body. I’m just hoping Angelique can be summoned before Petofi repossesses my body again." "What if he returns before we have a chance to summon her?" Nick asks Quentin, dreading the answer. "Then I’m afraid that all hope is gone." Quentin answers him with a tinge of despair in his voice. "I’ll do my best to see that is doesn’t happen though." Quentin headed over to the hotel room door. "Quentin, what are you going to do at Collinwood?" Julia asks curiously. "I’m going to find out what happened to the Collins family once and for all." Opening the door he looks back at his two friends one last time before leaving. "I dunno what I would do without you guys!" Quentin said lightly as he closed the door behind him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the last time he would ever see them again. "Well I suppose I’m going to need my strength for the long day and night ahead. I’m going to go get a ‘drink’ if you know what I mean." Nick said to Julia. Julia sat down on the edge of the bed, her face betraying nothing now. She was worried, no, more than that… she was terribly scared. She and Quentin had become good friends back when she was 1897 with Barnabas. She felt so sorry for him then, as she felt sorry for him now. A normal life was as foreign to Quentin as the depths of the ocean were for most people. She wondered if he would ever get the chance to try and have one. * 1897 "Beth dear, I’m going into town for a while. Would you mind watching Lenore for me while I am gone?" Mrs. Fillmore asked Beth as she was heading out the door. Beth could hardly say no. "Certainly Mrs. Fillmore." "Thank you dear, I won’t be gone for more than a couple hours." After she left, Beth looked over at the clock which hung on the far living room wall. 5:10pm. Had Quentin left Collinsport and her far behind? No. Beth just couldn’t believe that, he had wanted her to go with him far too much for him to just up and leave and she knew Quentin was the type of person who could never be alone. No, he wouldn’t leave her… he couldn’t have… Could he? * The Present The clouds hung oppressively low as if to turn day into night. Quentin stood motionless just outside the gates of the once great estate – Collinwood. Once a mansion of great beauty, it stood up on a hill that stood higher than the rest of Collinsport, as a monument to the Collins family’s wealth and power. But did this impressive mansion ever stand for happiness? No. What was the old saying? Money can’t buy happiness? Well, where Collinwood was concerned that was certainly true. Quentin couldn’t see the beauty in it anymore.
The mansion loomed before him empty and near ruins and depressed his very soul. If he still had one, Quentin thought gloomily. Maybe even with all its splendor, empty was the way the Collins Mansion belonged. Stepping through the giant iron gates Quentin started up the path to Collinwood, almost impossible to follow now as the forest tried desperately to close the estate off from the rest of the world and Quentin couldn’t help but think…‘Nice try’. As he walked towards the mansion Quentin noticed the weather fitted his mood - dark, dull and soundless. Stepping inside Collinwood he paused a moment in the foyer as he thought about where he ought to start his search. It was silly really. There was only one place where the mystery’s dark secret could be, the secret to what became of the present day Collins family. In his old room in the West Wing, of course. * 1897 – Rushmore Sanitarium Judith sat waiting in the plain, white, disgustingly safe little room, which was reserved for that rare occasion when a visitor actually wanted to visit one of the sanitarium’s unhappy tenants. She knew full well that she was in perfect control of her faculties and was sure that the doctors would soon realize it too. Judith still couldn’t believe that her so-called husband, Rev. Gregory Trask had thrown her in here and then had the gaul not to even visit her once in her 3 months stay. She was beyond angry, she was hurt. He had never cared for her, that much was obvious and she was going to make sure that when she got out of this god-forsaken nut house she would make him pay. To her surprise both of her living brothers had visited her. She had expected Edward of course, his sense of family duty, pride and loyalty guarantied that much whether he actually cared for her or not. Quentin however she had not expected, and as she waited for her new unknown visitor she recalled Quentin’s last visit… - He was standing in the doorway when she looked up, his expression odd… tragic. He sat down opposite her and asked her how she was holding up, making small talk. Judith noticed that Quentin looked tired and old, if that was possible. Once the conversation had come to a stop he had swallowed hard and looked into Judith’s face in the most serious expression she had ever seen, eyes pleading. He reached over and took both of Judith’s hands in his own. "Judith please… tell me that you had nothing to do with hiding my children from me… please." Judith was shocked, her mind swimming. How did he find out? When? Looking into his eyes she suddenly felt ashamed for her part in the whole scheme, how could she do such a thing to her own brother? Had she really believed for a minute that he would never find out? He was Quentin Collins… he found out everything sooner or later. At Judith’s silence Quentin squeezed her hand tighter, "Judith…" he prodded.
She closed her eyes and gained every ounce of courage she could muster
to tell him the truth. "Quentin, I’m so sorry… but I can’t tell
you what you want to hear."
"No, don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear your excuses, lies and false sentiment. But before I leave I suppose I should tell you that your nephew, my son… is dead." And then Quentin was gone, leaving his sister Judith alone with her guilt, betrayal and sorrow. - Judith hoped that the visitor today was Quentin, she wanted so badly to explain, to apologize for what she had done. Judith was disappointed when the visitor turned out to be Edward, entering the little room he got strait to the point. His typical style. "I don’t have time to stay Judith but I came to tell you that Quentin is leaving Collinwood and this time I think it’s for good." "What!" Judith exclaimed, taken off guard by this sudden news. "Why? Where is he going?"
* The Present Quentin found himself standing inside the second of his small suite of rooms tucked in the back of the West Wing, in 1897 he had sat and listened to his gramophone for hours on end here. His dusty little room of memories. At first glance the room appeared to be as he had left it so many years ago. His footsteps echoed as he continued on into the adjoining room, his bedroom. Everything seemed normal in there as well… except that the secret panel was open a crack. He was the only one who knew about that secret panel; it led to an unusual room in the very end of the West Wind. Unusual because no one knew it existed except him. Unusual because it had no windows and held only a solitary table, a long dinning room type table. It really was quite strange. Quentin approached it as a sense of gloom invaded his spirit because now he knew. He knew that that strange little room was where the secret lye, waiting for him to open the panel, to walk into the room and discover it. |
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