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Whispers In The Wind |
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Judith looked up, surprised at what she thought she'd just heard in Quentin's voice. Could that be sincerity... from her younger brother? She doubted it. He was kissing up to her. He must want something. Then she noticed his smile; not the smug, wicked smile that he usually gave her, but a kinder one that reminded her surprisingly of their mother's. He had her eyes; there was no denying that. Sometimes she hated looking into those eyes; eyes that seemed to instantly touch her heart and soul and made her think about their childhood. She turned away from him and replied, "I am happy whenever he is here and right now he's not here, is he Quentin? So how could I possibly be happier?" She realized after looking at him again that her tone was much harsher than she'd meant it to be, and in a softer voice added, "Please, let's not discuss Gregory." "All right," Quentin laughed. "He's not exactly my favorite subject. Would you care to keep a fellow insomniac company and play a game of cards?" For the second time that night, Judith was surprised. But more than anything, she was surprised by her answer. "I would enjoy that." It would be impossible for her to sleep anyway. She knew her dear husband was, at this very moment, bricked up in Quentin's room. No doubt looking for a way to escape. As much as she detested Gregory Trask, she couldn't sleep knowing that he was there - still alive. She looked up at Quentin; he has no idea she thought. Little did she know that Quentin was hiding his own secrets and sorrows. He was thinking of Beth again, and the more he thought of her the more his heart ached. 'Why did she have to die?' Quentin thought to himself. He was going to have to give in and admit to himself that he really, truly did love her. Sure, he had tolerated Jenny who'd always been a bit off her rocker, and chased after Amanda who'd been blessed with the personality of a brick but looked cute in a skirt... but Beth was the one who truly new who, and what, he was. She had helped him when he had needed it the most. She never turned her back on him no matter how he treated her. Beth was his one, true love. When she came back from the grave to forgive him it had done the exact opposite of what she had no doubt wanted... her confession had made him feel even worse. So shocked by her appearance, he hadn’t even had a chance to say, "I’m sorry". Quentin looked up at Judith and thought, she has no idea. For once in a very long time, possible ever, Judith and Quentin enjoyed each other's company. 'He's changing,' Judith thought. 'He's finally growing up, and it's about time!' After Judith finally gave in and admitted that she simply could not win a game of cards against her brother, she declared that she had better go to bed before she lost any more of her money. Chuckling, Quentin gave the large sum of money that he had won back to Judith, "Your company was all I wanted Judith, not your money." He supposed that if he was going to disappear on her, the least he could do was give her one good memory of him to last the ages. Judith, not being able to take anymore extreme surprises from her brother tonight went off to bed, not having any idea that this was the last time she would ever see Quentin Collins. "Thank you, Judith," Quentin whispered to himself, and the words sounded odd, even to him. He could hear a faint noise, like a dull thud, somewhere upstairs. Since everyone was in bed, and Judith was just not heading up the stairs, it made him wonder exactly who was making that noise. It sounded like it was coming from... the west wing. But Judith had just closed off the West Wing. "Arrghhh!" Quentin tossed his pillow to the floor. This bed was not comfortable in the least. A spring was piercing him in the back, and the bed creaked every time he tried to move. 'You would think that with all the money Judith has she could manage to buy a good bed for the Green bedroom!' He was beginning to think this one was left over from 1802. *Thump* "What was heck was that?" He listened intently, and after about ten minutes decided it must have been his imagination. He tried to go to sleep, but he just kept tossing and turning. It was just no use. Judith's weird behavior, and the mysterious sounds coming from the West Wing, had peaked his curiosity. He was certain that Judith was hiding something, and he was going to find out what it was. After putting on a pair of pants and a shirt he decided that the West Wing, or more specifically, *his* room, would be the best place to start. Judith didn't usually make a habit of closing off wings of the house simply because only one person was living in them... what about the east wing? No one has set foot in that wing for years. Trying the main door to the West Wing he found out that it was locked. No surprise there. Heading downstairs, through the sleeping house, and into the drawing room, he found that Judith hadn't thought about the secret panel and it was easy to open. Making his was through the cold, damp maze like he had done so many times before when he was a boy, he thought about what Judith could possibly be hiding. She was normally a pretty dull person. But he'd bet his left muttonchop that it had something to do with Trask. He suddenly turned around; he could swear he'd just heard something coming from behind him. No, it was nothing. 'Just move on,' he thought to himself. After going a little further he noticed that there was defiantly a chill in the air that wasn't there before. Something weird was happening, and he didn't really feel like playing ghost hunter tonight. Walking a little faster now, he tried to concentrate and keep his mind focused on the maze of tunnels, but he couldn't seem to do it. He could swear someone or *something* was watching him. A dark figure watched him from behind. 'Starting to get nervous, are we?' It smiled at Quentin's obvious anxiousness. This was going to be fun. Revenge always was. "Noooo, you couldn't just stay in your bed and try to get some sleep. Oh, no! You had to go and chase a sound which you aren’t even sure you heard!" Quentin was beginning to think that he should have just ignored the sounds. Turned the other way to the everyday strangeness that he'd grown up with all his life and just leave. The day after tomorrow, he'd be gone, and he didn't intend to come back to Collinwood anytime soon. Tomorrow he had to pack, and he frowned at the thought. Just how was he supposed to bring his favorite gramophone along with him? It wasn't going to fit in a suitcase.... He really didn't want to leave Collinwood, but he couldn't let Count Petofi get his way. This was his body and he was attached to it (in more ways than one). But it wasn't just Petofi... he didn't want anyone to know what he'd been hiding for the last few months. What would his 'loving' family do if they found out what he'd become? Lock him up and throw away the key? Find an extra piece of silver embedded in his chest? Whatever happened, he had no doubt that it would be unpleasant. Quentin suddenly heard a slight howl; it sounded like a breeze blowing through the tunnel, but that couldn't be? Suddenly a blast of cold air hit him and he dropped his candle in surprise. The flame went out, taking with it the only small sliver of light he had. "Brilliant," he said out loud, getting exasperated with himself. Now he would have to feel his way. With so many tunnels it would be difficult to do without a light, not impossible but difficult non-the less. "Guess I won't be getting much sleep tonight." Making his way cautiously through the tunnels, the weird sounds seemed to have gone away, and he was just about ready to chalk it all up to his overactive imagination. "...Quentin..." Sounding like a whisper in the wind, it was almost just that. But there was no mistaking it; his name was in it. Great, now he knew he was imagining things. "Quentin... Collins." There is was again, only this time it was slightly louder, and echoed through the deep maze inside Collinwood's walls, sending a shiver up Quentin's spine. He could feel himself start to panic, and quickened his pace, more eager than ever to get away from this thing that was following him. It was definitely not his imagination. "He's dead... he's dead" Fear was in Quentin's eyes now as he threw caution to the wind and started running, he needed to get away. This was not good. He believe in ghosts; remembered the stories that Barnabas had told him about his ghost haunting Collinwood. He had heard all the evil things he had done, and the amount of damage a ghost was capable of. He didn't want to think about what this ghost (if it was that) had in mind for him. "You had to do it, I know that." 'I've heard this before,' Quentin thought. He duck into the passageway to his right. 'That is the right way isn't it?' "Will we ever see an end to all of this?" He had heard all this before, but where and when? It was difficult to think when you were on the run. "What do you want!" Quentin called out, his voice faltering, "Who are you? What are you!?!" "What a horrible place to joke." "I... I'm not joking," Quentin shouted, right before he ran straight into a wall. He hadn't noticed the tunnel veers off to the left. Wait... he'd never been here before. As he tried to look through the darkness, a deep sense of dread flooded through him. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, and without a light.... he just didn't want to think about how long he could be lost inside Collinwood’s walls. He knew that they were wide-spreading throughout the estate, and even went under and outside the house. "What are you doing? You don't have any choice," The whisper continued. "What do you mean, I have no choice? What are you talking about?!?" "I do have a choice." Quentin froze. The whisper was beginning to take on his voice, and the words seemed so familiar. "I'll kill you if you try to run." "Oh no..." Quentin all but breathed. "Don't you know how to get out?" The voice sounded so much like Quentin now, and he decided he had better answer. "No." "Well then, you'll just have to stay here." "What if I don't want to stay here?" Quentin asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Are you scared?" It hit Quentin all at once, he remembered now. Yes, he knew where he had heard this all before... No! It couldn’t be, could it? "Oh my God... Carl?" "I only ever do what I must." "Carl - I'm sorry Carl! You don't understand everything that was happening!" Quentin screamed, feeling disoriented and dizzy. He was suddenly aware that he was running. He didn't know where and he didn't care. He just had to get away, away from Carl and those nightmarish memories. He may not of personally killed Carl, but he might as well have. "Don't you know how to get out?" "No!" "Then you'll just have to stay here." The walls were closing in on Quentin fast. He was running furiously and he hadn't the first clue where he was going. The wind seemed to follow him wherever he ran - no, not the wind... Carl. He was everywhere; in front of him, behind him, beside him. Quentin took any tunnel that he found; right, left, and it didn't matter. Carl was always there. Then suddenly it all stopped. The chill and taunting was gone and Quentin took in his surroundings. He was standing in a room he had never seen before. Was he still inside the house, or somewhere under the grounds? He hoped that he hadn't gone that far out. The room wasn't too large; but it was a spectacular site. In the center of the room stood a large stone about four feet tall and three feet wide. There was something balanced on top of the stone. But What? Upon closer inspection Quentin discovered that it was a small obelisk. On one side of the obelisk there were some hieroglyphics and an oddly shaped hole. "Egyptian?" The opening was oddly shaped, and Quentin figured that it must have served its purpose as some sort of keyhole. "Find it," whispered the wind. This time it wasn't Carl, it was a female voice. Find it? He had no idea where to start. There was an endless amount of passageways, secret rooms and tunnels (he knew this from experience). Trying to find a small key could take forever, and that's assuming that it was even *in* the tunnels. "It could be anywhere. Where would I start?" Quentin asked. "Find the key." "But where? Do you know where it is? Give me some sort of clue!" Quentin waited and again she responded. "The clue is written for the chosen one to see, in this room is where it be." "I don't know what you mean! I don't see any writing." Quentin said exasperated. "Look, I don't know what any of this means, but I'm getting a little tired of this and would like to get out of this mess of tunnels!" He'd really had his fill of strange voices for the night. A woman’s laughter echoed inside the walls of the room, "Quentin Collins, you cannot find your way back. You will be trapped here forever if you do not find the key." It had been at least an hour, and after Quentin was through having his tantrum he figured he had better sit down and think things through. It became quite apparent that the only way he was going to find his way out was to do what the woman had said. "I'm going to have to find the key," he said with a sigh. Grunting, Quentin stood up and started to look around the room more carefully. He noticed the floor wasn't like the rest of the tunnels, it looked like it was marble. A beautiful pearl color with swirls of steel blue. The floor matched the obelisk. The walls were white as well but the rock in the middle was pure black and was almost metallic in its appearance, making it stand out from everything else. What was this? Certainly it wasn't here when these tunnels were originally made. "I wish I had a Brandy right about now." He had a feeling he was going to need it. Quentin had looked everywhere, but the simple fact was that there was nothing in the room other that obelisk and rock. There just wasn't a lot of places to hide things. He went over to the obelisk for what must have been the fortieth time and tried to pick it up, and just like before it simply wouldn't budge. He wasn't going to be taking the thing with him. Slowly he walked around it. Inspecting it from all sides. There had to be something about the obelisk that could lead him to the key, but obviously, he couldn't read hieroglyphics. He was just about to give up when he noticed that on one side of the obelisk the 'writing' seemed to be different from the rest, as a matter of fact it wasn't the same at all. It almost looked like.... no. Could it be? A map. There were two 'X' like symbols on the map, he figured one must be where he was and the other was where the key could be found. Unfortunately, he was going to have to memorize the map and feel his way through the tunnels to find it, and that may not be that easy. "OK, I take the first tunnel to the right, pass two tunnels, take the third tunnel to the right, then there will be a branch of three tunnels and I take the middle, go five tunnels down then take the left tunnel. The first room should be the one." 'Well, that's just easy as pie,' Quentin thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. Right - right - middle - left. Right, right, middle, left. Right, right, middle, left. 'Well, here goes nothing. I just hope Carl isn't waiting for me out in the tunnels.' He stepped out of the room, half expecting to have Carl attack him on the spot, but he didn't. It was eerily silent, and Quentin was the happier for it. He looked back to get one last glance at the room and was startled to find the room was empty. 'No, it can't be. I didn't hallucinate this!' He stepped back into the room and as soon as he crossed the doorway the room re-appeared, just as it was the first time he entered it. He stepped back out and it disappeared again. "No wonder no one knows about this." Quentin decided he had better get going, before he forgot how to get there. After an thirty minutes of taking tunnels he was getting anxious to find the room and, more importantly, the key. As he preceded closer (or at least he hoped so) to his target he noticed that the stone seemed to be changing. Instead of the hard, grayish granite the tunnels were made of before it was slowly becoming more reddish in color. He remembered seeing this kind of sandstone in Egypt when he'd visited there last year. He had never seen it in or around Collinsport though... "This is just to weird." Quentin made his way through the tunnels with little trouble. He made the last turn and stood in front of the doorway to the room that supposedly held the key. It looked totally barren, but then again, so did the other one until he crossed the doorway. "Well, hold on to your lapels ladies and gentlemen." Quentin stepped into the tiny room and sure enough, just as he had guessed, the room changed right before his eyes. This room was quite different from the last one. Clearly of Egyptian origin, this one had three torches lit, one hanging from each wall. The torches gave the room a flickering, yellow-hued illumination, and he immediately noticed the hieroglyphs on the walls, deeply etched and beautifully gilded in marble. In the corner of the room was a small table in what appeared to be pure gold. 'Would love to see how much money I could get for something like that,' Quentin mused. He walked over to the table, his footsteps echoing through the small chamber. The key sat there, in plain site, giving off a glow much like the obelisk had. The shape on the end of the key seemed right. They key itself was pure egyptian; the Eye of Horus, in pure marble that matched the obelisk. He picked it up and held it tight in his hand. It was warm to the touch, totally un-natural for marble inside a cold chamber under the ground. He also grabbed one of the torches that was hanging on the wall. He turned around to leave, but stopped right before going through the doorway and gave the room one last glance. It truly was a magnificent sight. Sighing, he walked through the doorway and looked back. It had all disappeared. Making his way back to the tunnel, Quentin thought about everything he had just seen and how it could all be possible. What was in store for him now? What would happen when he opened the obelisk, what would he find? "Are you scared?" Carl whispered to Quentin. "Leave me alone, Carl." Quentin said with resignation; he had memorized the way back and if he could just make it to the other room he was sure he would be safe from Carl. At least it was easier to find his way back with the light. The temperature was dropping fast, he could feel it, and it was becoming increasingly gusty in the dank passageway. Now fearing for his torch, he prayed it wouldn’t blow out before he got to the room. He could now see his breath in front of him, and cursed himself for once telling his brother Carl that he hated the cold. There was a faint but steady whisper in the wind but Quentin couldn’t make out what Carl was saying. "You have discovered the key to the third sacred stone of Cleopatra." "What?" Quentin asked, just now being able to make out what Carl was saying. "I tried to stop you, but you would not go back. You would not leave." Quentin stopped and listened while Carl’s voice was brought to him on the wind from some supernatural place. "No one knows what powers you may unleash." The chill in the air subsided a bit but the faint voice still prickled up the hairs on the back of his neck. "Stop now, before anything else happens!" "Before what happens?" Quentin asked, doing a three-sixty in hopes of catching sight of his brother. "Carl?" Taking a deep breath, he waited for Carl to answer, but he didn't. Was he gone? "Carl?" He was gone, just like that, and he took the chill and breeze with him. He turned the key over in his hand. 'After Carl’s warning, should I really go through with this?' He knew he couldn’t leave without knowing. "Well, you’ve never been known to do the sensible thing. Why start now?" he told himself out loud. He made his way through the passages with no more trouble or interference from Carl. No, Carl had come to scare him off. After a few more minutes, he found the room again. As he stepped into the room the key in his hand grew increasingly hot, and the closer he got to the obelisk, the brighter both the key and obelisk became. Sucking in a deep breath, Quentin made his last few steps to the obelisk. "Well, here goes nothing." Quentin inserted the key and was instantly knocked back by an invisible, yet very powerful force. He looked up and saw that the key had melted straight into the obelisk, and they had now become one and the same. Suddenly the obelisk started to split in half and a beam of light shot up into the air. As it opened, he noticed that something seemed to be inside the light itself, and the more intense the light became, the more solid the form became, until he could finally make out what it was. Quentin gasped and stared in wide-eyed wonder at a hologram of a woman, and a very beautiful woman at that. 'Eat your heart out, Amanda,' Quentin thought wryly. She appeared fairly young, with shoulder length, straight black hair, and bright brown eyes that seemed to see right through him. She was wearing a long, gold dress that dragged on the floor. She was clearly of Egyptian origin, and probably of royal upbringing. Her dress was extremely revealing in the mid-drift, as well as the bust area, something which he couldn't help but notice. She was staring at him; one eyebrow raised as if sizing him up. She probably was. "You are the chosen. The third sacred stone of Cleopatra is yours. There are six stones; each one holds a little of its own power, but when all are together and acquired by one person there is no limit to the powers they can wield. But know this; if evil is your intent then the stone will not work for you the way you may wish. Many seek the stones, for they can heal, cure and grant almost any wish one may have, but the stones are only as good willed as their masters. Use caution, for if you do not know how to use them, they can cause more harm then good." And with that she was gone. A bright, steel blue stone sat in the middle of the obelisk, and he slowly made his way towards it. His heavy breathing echoed on the walls as he approached. If the stones together could really do what the woman said they could, then... could it cure him of his curse? Quentin reached for the stone, and once he held it in his hand he felt an odd sensation. He looked down at the stone, which had taken on a brighter shade of blue. When he looked back up he was once again inside Collinwood, and the West Wing no less; where he had intended to go all along. Laughing, Quentin decided that as long as he was here, he might as well discover what Judith was up to. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary…until he reached his old room. The doorway had been bricked up, and he was sure he hadn't been the one to do it. Leaned into the bricks, he listened to see if he could hear anything coming from inside. He could swear he heard rustling sounds coming from inside. "Is anyone in there?" Quentin asked, rapping on the brick with his knuckles a few times. "Yes! Minerva, it’s your husband and he’s alone and frightened. Please, let me out! I learned my lesson, I won’t do it again!" It was Trask, and it sounded as if he just might have shot his bolt. "Its Quentin." "Don’t hurt me, Minerva! Please, let me out! I’ll be good!" Trask ranted, obviously living in his own little world. Quentin smiled wickedly. So this is why Judith had closed off the West Wing. She had bricked up her dear husband in his room - why his room? - and had now, apparently, left him to die. Well, he had to hand it to his dear sister, Judith. There couldn’t have been more befitting fate for Trask, and he deserved exactly what he was getting. She was a woman after his own heart... he would never have thought. They both had an evil streak in them after all; too bad he was leaving, after just finding something he had in common with his sister after so many years. "You couldn’t defeat someone that has the all mighty on his side, Reverend Trask." Quentin walked away laughing as it suddenly occurred to him that Trask had been... or is that, would be?... the skeleton by the roll top desk in his room. That’s what Jamison, while possessed by David Collins had been talking about. So he wasn’t the skeleton, it was Trask. Or perhaps, somehow, Barnabas had succeeded in changing what he'd wanted to after all. Finally, he had answered several questions that had been nagging at him. The honorable Reverend Trask story has ended. Quentin spent the rest of the day packing, and had just about lost it when he realized that the servants had left his gramophone in his room. That was Judith's doing, he just knew it. He put his sacred stone in a safe place, and wrote a note to Mrs. Fillmore explaining his plans on leaving. He hated to leave his daughter behind, but in the end it was better this way. What sort of father was a man who turned into a beast when the moon was full? If the stones could cure him... then maybe he could come back to Lenore one day. If he never found a cure, it was better that he was far away from her. He took one last tour of the house. In some strange way, he would miss it. As for his family, he wouldn't say goodbye; it would be better that way, and didn't think that they'd be too broken up about it. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure they'd be celebrating his departure as soon as the news got out that he was gone. He retrieved the trunk with all his old pictures, memoirs, writing and junk he'd collected over the years, and figured he might as well dive in and see if there was anything worth taking with him. He was leaving early in the morning, and even though he was getting sleepy he needed to do it before he went to bed, or it wouldn’t be done at all. While sifting through the trunk he heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Charity, or rather, Pansy. She walked into the room and when she saw him it was clear she thought he was still possessed by Count Petofi. "Oh, Excuse me. I didn’t know this room was occupied," She said in a cockney huff, starting to walk away. But then she turned around and gave him a second glance, her look suddenly turning owlish with shock. "Quentin, it’s you. It’s really you!" "Yes, it is I." The End This story is continued in Moonstruck. |
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