SHADOWS ON THE WALL Chapter 11 Heartbeat by Midnite (Thayer David) "As the tiny village of Collinsport lies shrouded by the midnight sky, most of its inhabitants are oblivious to the opposing forces at work around them and to the dangerous drama involving one of their own that is taking place on the other side of the ocean." Eliot Stokes could almost feel his blood pressure rise as twin beams of light pierced the solitude of his seaside cottage. The glare from the headlights ceased as quickly as it had appeared and was soon followed by an insistent rap at the front door. Stokes dipped his monocle into a pocket of his smoking jacket before opening the door to a lovely young brunette. "You must be Professor Stokes," she stated cheerfully. "I apologize for paying such a late visit, but this is an emergency." "Then perhaps it's the sheriff's headquarters that you should be barging in on." "Oh no, it's you that I urgently need to speak with. You see, I was only very recently admitted to Rockport University, under the name Cassandra Blair, and you were assigned my faculty adviser." "I see. Then I am advising you that in order to successfully continue your education there, it would be wise for you to wait for an invitation before intruding on anyone's privacy." "If you'll only hear me out, I'm sure you'll understand why this visit is so important. Please," she pleaded, "if you allow me five minutes of your time, I promise you won't regret it." "Very well, you have five minutes." He took a step back, allowing the young woman to squeeze inside. "I'm positive I've never seen you at any of my lectures," he added while observing pale, shapely legs beneath a blue brocade mini-dress, "yet your face seems vaguely familiar to me. Perhaps we've passed each other on campus?" "Yes, that must be it. Professor, I'm afraid I need to settle my nerves a bit before I begin," she told him as black lashes blinked fiercely. "The stress of all of this has taken its toll on me." She brandished a gold cigarette case in front of him, asking, "Would you mind if I smoked?" "Not at all," he replied, although for a transient moment he saw danger in her crystal-blue eyes, but then dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Dainty fingers produced a slim cigarette and slipped it between frosted pink lips, and as Stokes patiently watched, the other hand began to fumble with a lighter that almost seemed to materialize in it. "Ah, allow me," he told her as his thick fingers deftly lit it and waited, but Cassandra removed the cigarette from her mouth and asked, "Isn't it fascinating?" "I beg your pardon?" "The flame, Professor. Isn't it a fascinating thing to watch? The sight of it flickering in someone's eyes. Can you see the flame in my eyes?" "Yes. Yes, I can." "Keep looking into my eyes, deeper and deeper." "No," he said feebly, but despite his best effort was unable to break away. "It is futile to resist me, Professor. Do not forget that. Now look deeply into my eyes, and tell me what you see." "I see ... I see myself." "Yes, Professor. And now you will answer my questions as fully as you can. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Quentin Collins brought a portrait to you-- a very old portrait of a woman that was painted in the 18th century. You must tell where I can find it." "In there," he said while pointing to one of several doors in the room. "Behind a panel at the rear of that closet." Cassandra grinned smugly. This could not be going more smoothly. ~*~ "Finished already?" the maid asked, one hand clutching her chest in exaggerated shock. "Why, yes, Mrs. Johnson," the man explained matter-of-factly. "I told you the shelves would be finished tonight at the very latest." "I know you did, but ... well, you know how most workers promise you one thing but never keep their word. There isn't an excuse I haven't heard!" Her hands animatedly waved in disgust at the thought of all the unreliable handymen that had done work for the Collins family over the past year. "Well," he announced, "I don't do business that way." "Oh, Mrs. Stoddard will be SO pleased tomorrow morning when she sees her new shelves. I know where she left your check, so I'll go get it now," she said as she began her retreat from the pantry. "Um, Mrs. Johnson," he called to her. "Would you happen to know if Dr. Julia Hoffman is around this evening?" "Dr. Hoffman?" she repeated, sounding very surprised. "Well, last time I saw her, she was reading in the drawing room. Ohhh, and now I hear someone at the door. Well, I'll find you soon as I take care of that." "Huh? Oh, sure, sure. Thanks." But Sarah Johnson was too busy babbling to no one in particular to hear him, and Tom was only able to catch something about a revolving door and late night visitors before she was swiftly swallowed by the hallway that led away from the dining room. ~*~ Cassandra surveyed the small storage room, noticing not one but several canvasses draped and scattered about. Yet before any of them could be unveiled, she detected a faint tapping sound coming from a distant corner. "What the...?" she said, but the noise was progressively becoming louder and possessed a dull, rhythmic quality. Bum BUM, Bum BUM, Bum BUM it went, and by now its intensity was such that she could think of nothing else but to find the source of the noise. Slowly cutting through the stale air, she surveyed the books and other old objects until her eyes rested on a particular canvas set high on an easel. The sound emanating from it had grown louder still, so she tugged on the sheet until it dropped to the ground, revealing a grotesque visage that stared back at her-- a grossly disfigured man dressed in 19th century clothing and surrounded by a faintly glowing rim of light. But when the witch tried to touch the luminescent halo, she was forced to retreat in pain from the white hot scene. "I must learn whose ghastly face that is," she declared while scurrying back to her waiting subject. "But the burning portrait can only mean one thing..." She breathed in deeply, and with an exhalation of pure venom hissed the name "Laura!" ~*~ To any casual observer, it appeared that Julia was intently studying an article in JAMA, but only a discerning eye could notice that she hadn't turned a page in a quarter of an hour. Her thoughts instead ran toward the holistic as she pondered the feelings stirred inside her by the arrival of the Collins' English cousin. Previously, Julia had prided herself on her ability to control every facet of her life-- her behavior, her career, her emotions. But since the appearance of the phenomenon called Barnabas Collins, she had relinquished a bit of that self-control and had, as a result, begun to feel more alive than ever. Love can't be controlled, she reminded herself. Experiencing this emotion was something she had avoided until now because she believed it would open herself up to suffering, but if this was how it felt to be vulnerable, then it seemed much too intriguing and wonderful to fight. She reflected on how she could nearly feel every beat of her heart when he spoke-- the sound of his voice making it splash her insides with a joyfulness that she hoped would never stop. *When he spoke.* My God, she thought ... that muffled voice in the distance was HIS, and she could make out Mrs. Johnson's too as they came nearer. Julia quickly uncrossed and then recrossed her legs, tugging at tweed and straightening her back, all the while pretending to focus intently on the pages in front of her until she heard footsteps halt in the doorway. "I'm sorry," the stately voice sang out. "I didn't mean to disturb your reading. I'll wait in the foyer." "Oh no, no, you're not disturbing me at all. As a matter of fact, I was just going to fix myself some tea. Won't you join me?" "Your offer is very kind," Barnabas replied, "but I shan't be staying long. I just dropped by to bring Miss Winters this book about the Collins family. She expressed a desire to learn more about its history, and I happened upon this one tonight and thought she might enjoy it." "I see," Julia said, stung by his revelation. "Then please do wait in here. I'd love to see the book myself, if you wouldn't mind," she added, feigning interest. "Why, yes, of course," he told her after entering the room completely, and followed her lead by seating himself at the opposite end of the sofa. "I had no idea you were interested in Collins history," he said as he attempted to deliver the antique volume to her, a gesture that afforded her an excuse to scoot closer. This made him more than a little uncomfortable. "I'm always amazed by the fascinating stories Elizabeth tells about her ancestors," she lied. "You know, I imagine she'd be very interested in seeing this as well." As she reached out to take it, their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and Julia was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations that ran through her as a result of that one tenuous contact. Barnabas began to explain some of the photos of long-dead Collins relatives, but Julia preferred staring into the face of the man she shared her space with at that moment. She noted that her own voice had changed and became horrified by the foreign giggle that escaped her mouth following one of his more clever comments. She felt very much out of control, but being so close to him made her acutely aware, once again, of the pumping of her own heart. Lub dub, lub dub. The experience made her blush. Barnabas turned toward the door suddenly. "May I help you?" he called out. Julia spun around quickly too and was shocked to see Tom standing between the double doors and looking equally as surprised as she. ~*~ Returning with an amulet *borrowed* from the Professor's collection, Cassandra pressed it against the portrait at a point below its grisly face and turning toward the East, began to recite, "Great Horus, god of the sky and protector of ancient kings, I call upon you to shield thy servant Quentin. His enemies shall become your enemies and his battles shall become your battles. Let this 'eye' extinguish the fire that rages around him and restore your loyal subject so that he is whole again." At that moment near the Nile's mouth, a fat crocodile yawned under a sea of sunshine, a hooded cobra spun above an ocean of grass, and a crackling pyre was expunged beneath the feet of its near-victim. The priests retreated in horror as Quentin Collins, his clothing charred and the ropes that bound him disintegrated, dropped dizzily onto the heap before noticing the object now dangling from his neck. "I've seen one of these before," he considered aloud. "It's the eye of Horus. But how the HELL did it get there?" ~*~ "Why did you show up here tonight?" Julia was interrogating Tom after leading him into the study and closing the door behind them. "I was hired to do some work in the house; I told you about it, remember?" "Oh, I do remember now. But why were you eavesdropping on my conversation?" she added no less sternly than before. "Eavesdropping? No, Julia, I mean, well, yes, I was, but I didn't mean to." She watched as slim fingers ran through his own silky blonde hair. "Look, maybe it's you that should be explaining," he blurted, "like about what I saw in there." "I was having a friendly conversation with Elizabeth's cousin. That's all." "Friendly, huh? Yeah, it looked pretty friendly to me. I saw the way you were looking at him, and your body language," he said disgustedly, "and how you brushed against him on purpose." "You're being unduly emotional, and I'd prefer to not continue this conversation." Tom could feel the anger inside him threatening to explode like a pistol. "Julia, what am I supposed to think after this morning?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "When I came up behind you while you were brushing your hair in the mirror, and put my arms around you ... I saw you frown. ... It was as if you disapproved of me." "Tom, is that what's behind this outburst? My facial expression in a mirror?" He turned away, struggling to keep his emotions in check while rubbing a stubbled chin. "Julia," he cooed, turning back toward her and taking both her hands in his. "When I wake up beside you, I'm happy to lie there listening to your heartbeat ... to just watch you breathing. But the minute you wake up you're already thinking about going away. Don't you get it?" he asked half-smiling. "All I want in this world is for you to want to pull yourself closer to me, to look into my eyes the way you stared into that weird Mr. Collins', and to feel as excited by my touch as you were by his." "Look, it's very late," she told him while attempting to extricate her hands from his. "And I'm too tired to quarrel with you about Barnabas Collins or anyone else." "I don't want to quarrel either," he said, pulling her closer. "Why don't you come back to my place with me now? I promise I won't mention his name." He let his forehead drop softly onto hers. "It'll be just us, as always." Julia raised her chin, took a deep breath, and answered, "Us. That's what I've put off talking about with you for much too long as it is..." ~*~ Satisfied that the immense paneled doors sufficiently shielded her from the rest of the household, Cassandra seated herself in front of the raging fire in the Collinwood drawing room, the Egyptian BOOK OF THE DEAD open in front of her. While cupping a heart scarab in both hands, she began to chant: "I call upon Seth, god of chaos and ruler of the deserts, judged by the sun god Ra who pushed you aside and declared Osiris, your brother, to be ruler of the dead and confirmed Horus, his son, as ruler of the living. Let not the innocence of Ra nor the desire of Osiris prevent you from avenging this theft of your rightful throne..." Lightning rented the moonless sky, but Cassandra did not lose a moment's concentration, for it was imperative that an enemy be destroyed for interfering with her plans lest the vile creature do the same to her. "Hear me, Seth," she continued. "I offer up to you the vehicle for your revenge. Laura, faithful subject of Ra, stands hale on earth, while your name evokes enmity through the centuries. In the name of the souls of Naqada, you must destroy this servant to Ra. LET HER BURN FOR YOUR GLORY!" A great wind forced the windows open, causing the drapes to billow and the chandelier to rock, yet the fire blazed higher, hungrily licking the huge firebox. Upstairs, a young boy sat bolt upright in his bed screaming, "No, no, no!!!" and then shouted, "Mother!" before falling into the arms of his governess and sobbing uncontrollably. Elsewhere on the grounds, a brutally handsome, semi-naked man was delivered to the woods of his long-ago childhood. And in a cottage not far from both these events, a pile of charred bone and ash was all that remained of the powerful woman that once stood there. TO BE CONTINUED BY SHEENASMA!