 
### Dark Shadows: The Morning Star

### by

### Laura A. Ellison

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2020 Laura A. Ellison

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial and non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

### Chapter One

My father preferred to see but not hear me because whatever I had to say as a boy could not be as important as being David Collins, heir to the Collins estate. I learned to repress my rage, becoming deeply depressed years later. Like Father, I was guilty of the same pride and fear concerning that hint of madness in the family. I could have checked into the Windcliff, my hometown insane asylum; instead, I went to a hospital in Boston. I spent a few months there stewing in my failure following my first and only year at Princeton. I had started to suffer panic attacks along with the depression. I never attempted suicide. However, I sometimes wonder if Father had been relieved if I killed myself; interred in the family crypt, another Collins who had died young.

_The summer after Princeton, I helped my immortal cousin Barnabas execute a plan that concluded with me laying him to rest yet again, the coffin's wood already two hundred years old, and wrapped the box with chains, as he asked. For whatever reasons, Julia had not returned from the past; just like Victoria_ _Winters, or so I thought_...

Collinsport, Maine-2015

Maggie Evans glanced at the time on the car radio. Five forty-five a.m. Her shift at the cannery started at ten minutes after six. She slowed her car to a stop at the red traffic light in the heart of Collinsport. The sun had yet to rise. Maggie took a sip of coffee, placing the covered mug back in the holder, never taking her eyes off the road. In the distance, the cannery was alight and busy. Soon, the third shift would be ready to go home; Adam in line with the others at the time clocks, his head down, black hair streaked with gray. He looked that way every morning, never leaving the night shift.

Carolyn Stoddard had helped him get that job and he did not make her sorry; few angry outbursts, never complaining about overtime or whatever task he was given. His strength, even after fifty years, was still admired.

Maggie's mind had started to wander when the driver in front of her came to a sudden stop. Maggie slammed on the brakes while taking in the personalized license plate:

### GIFT

Not Maine plates, but Alaska. The black SUV made a left turn, Maggie's heart still pounding. She took a deep breath and reached for her coffee.

Maggie did not see Adam as she entered the building. The other third shifters, however, were already in line. She placed her yellow hardhat on her head, covered with a required white net cap, her hair tucked inside.

She reached her office, smiling at the person who was at her desk, sitting in her chair.

Carolyn Stoddard seemed more interested in her iPhone, which she held in her lap. "Good morning, Maggie. I had an early meeting. The pressure is back on to sell, and I have my choice between the Canadians and the Pakistanis..."

Carolyn had let herself age gracefully. Her blonde hair, still thick and shiny, was now in a shoulder-length cut, bangs neat against her forehead. She wore a green suit with a white blouse, along with a gold silk scarf, a gold and diamond brooch on her jacket lapel.

"You don't want to hold out for too long," Maggie said.

Carolyn looked up from her phone. "This place should have closed down ten years ago. Did we make it through the Great Recession just to sell out to foreigners? Uncle Roger is turning in his grave, I know it. But what can I do?"

"I think Roger would understand. So would your mother."

Carolyn sighed and rose from her chair. "Collinwood will be the only thing left. The great house needs so much work, and the old house should be condemned."

"What about Paul and Jenna?"

"Jenna has many ideas, but she's too young, just out of high school. Paul hasn't called me in months."

"My Sam hasn't heard from him, either. Remember when our boys were best friends?"

"You can thank my daughter-in-law. Drags my only child all the way to California, leaving Jenna without her father..."

Maggie had heard it all many times before. Dawn, the daughter-in-law, had wanted to move away because she had been afraid at Collinwood, the place terrified her. Carolyn usually failed to mention how Paul had hated being a Collins, touchy about his father's identity.

Paul was no different than David, Maggie thought. Always trying to get away.

"I never thought I would live to see Collins Enterprises get sold, piece by piece," Carolyn said. "And I never thought I would be the one to do it. David was the heir, but he's...not well."

"David hasn't been well in a long time."

"It's not his fault, I know." Carolyn looked out the office window, her back to Maggie. "When are you planning to retire?"

"Not 'til October."

"That's only six months away." Carolyn grabbed her purse from the desk. "I better get to the meeting upstairs."

Before she could turn away, the door opened. Adam, a black hardhat on his head, walked in.

Adam never learned how to make a quiet entrance, but his energy had always been unique. He was flesh and blood, a creation born out of someone else's genius. Over the last forty years, he had carved out an identity for himself as a working man, but his friends could sometimes still see the angry, lonely orphan in his dark eyes. There was no one else like him, his one mate long-dead by his hands.

Adam was still tall, a little heavier around the middle, salt and pepper beard covering the darkly handsome face. The hardhat helped cover the scars on his forehead, but not around his eyes, now surrounded by crow's feet.

He wore a red T-shirt and black pants, heavy work boots on his feet. He hands remained strong and flexible. With age, Adam had grown more patient, even smiled at his co-workers or shared a joke, but was also likely to be quiet. If in a dark mood, he would go for a walk, sometimes as far as Widow's Hill, but he always came back.

Adam's voice, still deep, was directed at Maggie. "Did you still want me to stay over?"

"Oh, that's right." Maggie said. "I forgot. Yes, Adam, I need you to train a new hire. He's probably waiting for you at the north end. I don't think you'll have to stay long. He's a quick study."

"Do you know him?"

She grinned. "It's Lucas. No special treatment, even if he is my grandson."

Adam returned her grin. "Is he old enough to work here?"

"Eighteen last week."

Maggie noticed Adam rubbing his belly, then across his chest. "You all right?"

"Heartburn. I need to stop drinking coffee."

"I can get you some Tums."

While Maggie searched her desk drawer for antacids, Carolyn asked, "When do you plan to retire, Adam?"

"When you don't need me anymore."

Lucas Evans stood next to the inactive hi-lo, watching the shift change. He thought it was interesting, the people leaving looked relaxed already, even smiling, while the people coming in were sipping their coffee, eyes still sleepy or awake and wary of another day at work.

Am I wrong to feel the same way? he thought. To already _not_ like my job?

Lucas had worked since he was sixteen, but those jobs were part-time. Now, he would have to prove to his grandmother, who was also his boss, that he could be responsible.

"Should I call you Grandma at work?" Lucas had asked Maggie the night before.

"Gosh, I don't know," she said. "I guess you should call me Maggie, like everyone else does."

Lucas knew he would only have to last the summer, going off to Cornell in the fall. His acceptance had shocked him, even Jenna Stoddard had been impressed.

"You got into Cornell? I mean, it wasn't one of my choices, but that's great, Lucas."

Jenna Stoddard had been accepted to Boston, Sarah Lawrence, and Columbia. She would not have considered a college in Maine, but Lucas was aware of doing the same thing.

I want to go away, too, he thought. Just like my dad.

Maggie had named her son Sam after her father. Young Sam had come home to Collinsport with his mother when he was two years old. His father had been a Vietnam veteran who committed suicide when Sam was a baby, prompting Maggie's return from California. Maggie had never married Sam's father, so he took his mother's last name.

Sam, after college in Boston, met a local girl named Audrey Peterson while visiting home. Her father Tony had once dated Carolyn Stoddard. Tony, who had become a successful attorney and businessman in Collinsport, did not approve of the match, well-aware of Maggie's friendship with the Collins family. Audrey was a college graduate who had attended Yale, planning for law school. Her father did not hesitate to brag about his only child to anyone who would listen. However, Audrey soon became pregnant for Lucas.

Sam had studied architecture in college, inheriting his grand- father's artistic talent. Unfortunately, like Grandpop Sam, he also had a drinking problem that grew worse in college. He took a job in Manhattan for an architecture firm, Audrey attending law school at Columbia, baby Lucas being looked after by a nanny.

Sam lost his job, then another, because he could not work a whole day without a drink, coming back from lunch too drunk to concentrate on any project. He and Audrey lost their apartment, and Audrey returned home with Lucas. Her father, angry that Audrey had to leave school, encouraged a divorce. Audrey complied with one caveat; she would return to school full-time, but only if Lucas could live with Maggie. Tony Peterson, a proud man with a big house and money enough to support his grandson, reluctantly agreed with the promise that he could visit Lucas whenever he wanted. Maggie, getting by on her paycheck from the cannery while paying off her own modest home, feared a custody fight as soon as Audrey left town. But Tony did not retaliate. Maggie asked Audrey to look for Sam in New York. Sam would go in and out of their lives, finally settling in North Carolina, sober and employed, but always at a distance.

Lucas noticed the layer of sweat on Adam's face as he approached. One big hand was rubbing his chest through his shirt.

"Good morning, Adam."

Adam nodded in reply, taking a labored breath. "Let's show you how to use this..."

Adam gestured for Lucas to get in the seat of the hi-lo. Lucas jumped on, getting in place. Adam began to show him the gears, pointing and explaining how to get the blades to function. For a moment, he had to stop, shaking his head like a dog.

"Are you okay?" Lucas asked.

The older man pulled off his hardhat. He took a few steps back, staggering. Then he collapsed, falling to his side on the cement floor.

Lucas jumped off the hi-lo. Other workers also saw Adam fall, running to his side. Someone told Lucas to get Maggie. Lucas ran, but Maggie had already been messaged. When he reached her office, she was outside the door, Carolyn at her side.

Maggie and Carolyn remained silent as the EMTs tried to bring Adam back to consciousness. The other employees had parted to make room. Carolyn held back her sobs, her chest heaving, Maggie's arm around her.

The EMTs placed Adam on a stretcher, his long, sturdy form still. His eyes were still open and Carolyn, for a moment, thought his gaze was on her. Only when his face was covered with the sheet, did she look away.

.

### Chapter Two

Collinwood, the great house well over two hundred years old, could be considered a blessing or a curse. The upkeep of such a magnificent place took wealth and patience. Stretching two wings, the west closed off for over a century, Collinwood was most habitable in the drawing room, kitchen, and upstairs bedrooms, including Roger Collins's old study. The tower, where young David Collins once had his room, was now used by Jenna Stoddard, Carolyn's granddaughter.

The foyer was more modernized, the flooring and main door replaced, but the old grandfather clock and the portrait of Barnabas Collins remained along with the stained-glass windows at the head of the stairs. Some things Carolyn did not want to change, the past giving her comfort, with she and Jenna the only family living in the great house.

Jenna had passed on a trip to Europe before college. She knew, even if her grandmother had not mentioned it, that the money could be used for something else. Particularly, maintenance on the house and grounds.

Jenna regretted not getting a summer job. She could have gone to the new mall or the drive-in theatre. Like Lucas, she was already eighteen, so there was nothing stopping her.

One look at my name on the application, she thought, and no manager would interview me. They all hate us, especially if Grandmother sells the cannery. They would wonder why Jenna Stoddard needs a job folding T-shirts at the Gap or making popcorn at the drive-in.

She was in her room. The dark walls were now painted a cheerful shade of lavender, the ceiling and furniture white. The blue and purple stained-glass window remained. Her canopy bed was made up of lacy white linen, with lavender pillows and a few stuffed animals. This was the room where Jenna had spent her entire childhood and she was unsure if she was ready to let it go. Jenna loved Collinwood. She wondered if her grandmother would ever take her ideas about the future seriously. She put down her phone and rose from her bed.

She looked in the antique mirror. She had discovered the mirror in the attic, cleaning it herself. She found the octagonal shape interesting, along with the floral and vine border. When she saw her face, she thought she was looking at herself in another time, framed in romance.

Jenna had inherited her great-grandmother Elizabeth's shiny black hair that Jenna wore chin-length and straight, bangs long against her forehead. She had Carolyn's blue eyes, but her mother's eyes had also been blue. Jenna straightened her purple tank-top, the shoulder straps lacy, her denim shorts just above her knees. Her skin was too fair to tan, but she was never the outdoor type, except for her walks at Collinwood.

Jenna wiped the shine from her small nose, not bothering with makeup that day. Her lashes were so dark, she did not need mascara. Her lips were small, her chin defined.

She had only a few pictures of her mother, the beautiful Rebecca Stockbridge, who had to choose between young Paul Stoddard and David Collins, an older man by then. David had wanted Rebecca to come with him to Boston. Instead, she chose Paul. Paul and Rebecca were married for almost six years, Jenna born after the third. Paul had learned the business from Uncle Roger before his death. Rebecca stayed at Collinwood with Jenna.

One evening, Rebecca and three-year-old Jenna went for a walk on the grounds. They had been gone for over an hour before anyone went to search for them. Jenna was found near the old greenhouse. She stayed silent for days and, when she could, she was not able to give the authorities much information. To this day, Jenna could recall little.

The search for Rebecca Stoddard continued for almost a year with no sightings, no ransom demands, nothing.

Paul Stoddard was a strong man, returning to work to occupy himself from the anxiety and anger over Rebecca's disappearance. Cousin David Collins had returned home for a while to help with the search but returned to Boston suffering from nervous exhaustion.

Rebecca had been gone for over a year when Paul met Dawn Manners while away on business. Convinced Rebecca was dead or far away, he divorced her in absentia. Paul and Dawn were married weeks later.

Dawn and Jenna never bonded. Carolyn, in mourning after the recent death of her Uncle Roger, had already become Jenna's substitute mother along with a few different nannies. Jenna was a headstrong and independent child. What Jenna did not know was Dawn had other plans.

Dawn never adjusted to living at Collinwood. She claimed to be sensitive to spirits and she had encountered her share of ghosts in the house and on the grounds. After seeing the ghost of Josette du Pres at the old house, Dawn gave Paul an ultimatum; they leave Collinwood, or she would go alone.

Jenna loved her father, although he had become more distant since Rebecca's disappearance. He did not put much stock in the supernatural, even though he grew up at Collinwood, his father a man named Jeb Hawkes. Jenna later noticed there were no photos of her grandfather anywhere, but she was told her father resembled Jeb; curly blond hair, boyishly handsome. Poor, doomed, Jeb.

Paul's exit was more banal. The sunny shores of California seemed more appealing than the dark walls of Collinwood. When her father left, with the promise of visits, Jenna could not recall being sad, just secretly relieved that Dawn would be going with him.

Paul did visit alone once or twice a year. He and Dawn were quite happy in Silicon Valley. Jenna stayed in touch with Facebook and e-mail, but the biggest mystery in her life, besides her mother's disappearance, was her father.

Jenna stepped away from the antique mirror. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. She left her room, heading downstairs.

Living at Collinwood was something Jenna had taken for granted. The legends surrounding her family and home had led to a fascination with the supernatural and the unexplained. Ghost hunting had become a hobby. She had taken a photograph at the old house featuring a white and diaphanous shape. Another Josette sighting. Her father had grown up seeing ghosts and hearing strange sounds. No one kept her from exploring, a centuries old estate her playground.

She was coming down the stairs when the reinforced glass unlocked, the main doors turning inward, the security system disabled by remote from Carolyn's phone. She and Maggie entered.

Jenna knew they both should have been at the cannery. Her grandmother's eyes were red and puffy.

"What's happened?" Jenna asked.

Carolyn dropped her purse and keys on the table. "Let's go in the drawing room. I need a drink."

The drawing room was still a warm space, the furnishings updated, the sofa a light blue and chairs in a floral pattern. The walls boasted egg-shell white paneling, but antiques and portraits remained in the old places. A PC sat on the desk, a lacy cloth underneath the monitor. The fireplace remained the same, along with the cushioned seat. Jenna sat there while Carolyn mixed herself and Maggie chilled orange juice with a splash of Vodka. Maggie was sitting at the couch.

"Adam is dead," Carolyn said. "Heart attack."

Jenna listened as Carolyn explained the morning's events.

"Because of the shock," she said, "I didn't go to the meeting. However, my lawyer called, telling me there's a new offer. From Alaska."

"Alaska?" Maggie asked.

Carolyn nodded. "He's staying at the Collinsport Inn. But I need to deal with Adam's arrangements first."

Carolyn's phone rang. "Hello? Yes, let him in."

Mr. Mays, the part-time security guard at the gate, always called to inform Carolyn of anyone who wanted to enter. He would collect the mail and keep an eye out for trespassers.

"Who's coming?" Jenna asked.

"Lucas. To give Maggie a ride home. But I need you both to do something for me first."

"What's that?"

"Find some antiques in the west wing for the charity auction."

"I thought we were selling those things."

"We can donate a few, Jenna. It benefits the food bank."

Jenna remained silent until Lucas arrived. Carolyn and Maggie continued to drink, in no hurry to leave the drawing room. Carolyn asked Lucas to go with Jenna to the west wing.

"There's no lights in the west wing," Jenna said, "but there's flashlights in the kitchen."

Lucas, watching his grandmother, her work boots off and sprawled on the sofa, realized she was tired. She also seemed like she was daydreaming, looking off into space. "Ms. Stoddard, the plant manager gave me this business card to give you..."

Lucas handed Carolyn the card; white, embossed in black ink.

Sterling Gift

Morning Star Industries

Anchorage, Alaska

She sighed. "I'll deal with Mr. Gift later."

"I always wondered why Adam came back to Collinsport," Maggie said. "He could have gone anywhere."

"Professor Stokes wanted to send him to a clinic," Carolyn said, "to get his scars removed. But these doctors wanted to examine him more. There were scars on his body, too. He became scared, so he came back. Stokes helped him hide. After the professor died, Adam needed help. The police were no longer interested in him. Barnabas and Julia were gone. I talked Mother into giving him a job at the cannery. Uncle Roger needed more persuading. We had to deal with a few obstacles with his identity, such as the IRS and Social Security, so we paid him confidentially. But Adam didn't disappoint. He learned so much, worked so hard. He was able to buy your cottage..."

"He bought it in cash. Oh, God, who is going to clean it out?"

"Me." Carolyn poured more orange juice into her glass. "He will be cremated. There won't be an autopsy. There doesn't need to be."

"I always thought Adam came back for you."

"Maybe. But Adam didn't come around here much, even after Mother and Uncle Roger were gone. He would paint in the same spot where your father did, by the window. Or he would go fishing. He never went on a vacation out of town. He would go to work and go home. He didn't talk about the past much."

"He never talked about Barnabas..."

Carolyn shrugged. "There was nothing to discuss. Barnabas moved to England, Julia Hoffman went with him, or that was the rumor. But he never said goodbye. The same with Julia and Quentin."

"Strange." Maggie put her glass down, refusing more. "But Barnabas and Julia were close, like brother and sister sometimes."

"I always thought Julia was in love with Barnabas." Carolyn chuckled. "Maybe they ran off together."

"Maybe they needed a break from Collinsport."

"Don't you mean a break from Collinwood? I need a break, too. And Jenna needs me to help her, get her ready for college. She's spent her whole life here. She needs to get out and see the world. There's so much she doesn't know about the familyꟷ"

"Do you want her to know?"

"Jenna has always been independent, and I know she's old enough, but sometimes I still see her as that little girl calling for her mother and my heart breaks all over again.

### Chapter Three

Jenna walked ahead of Lucas, both bearing flashlights as they entered the west wing of Collinwood.

"I wasn't allowed to play in here," Jenna said, "but I used to sneak. This wing has been closed off since around 1900. There's hidden rooms and all kinds of antiques."

Lucas moved the beam of his light all around. He saw nothing but dust and cobwebs, the walls dingy from time and neglect. He glimpsed old gaslights, woodwork in a fleur-de-lis pattern, the paint chipped. Old canvasses were stacked against the walls.

"I always liked this armoire," Jenna said. "But it's too heavy to move. I could stain it, make it look new like this bed set. These pieces are all over a hundred years old. And this phonograph belonged to Quentin Collins. My cousin David told me Quentin had a room in the west wing."

Lucas noticed Jenna always became animated when she spoke of her family and Collinwood. She had been more withdrawn and aloof at Collinsport High School. The other students had wondered why she had not been sent to some fancy boarding school, but Lucas understood; Jenna was lonely without her grandmother and Collinwood.

Jenna had put up with the ridicule and envy of her classmates so she could stay home. Lucas had done the same. His mother Audrey had offered to send him to a private school. She was now a successful tax attorney in Manhattan. The tuition would not have been a problem; however, she would have wanted him to leave Collinsport and his grandmother to live with her. He had refused, although he had to admit she at least showed some interest in his welfare. He had not heard from his father in years.

"Oh! I forgot about this!"

Jenna held up an art deco vase of a carved female figure in white glazed ceramic. "I think it belonged to Elizabeth, but maybe not. I'll show this to Grandmother."

"Are you sure you want to give it up?" Lucas asked.

Jenna grinned. "Well, I have to part with something. But Grandmother shouldn't be giving things away for charity. We need to sell."

"It can't be so bad, Jenna. She'll get a good price for the cannery."

"I won't be able to go to college. I don't see how she can afford it. I don't know what I was thinking, applying to Boston and Columbia. All that expense! And even if I could earn a lot of money, I wouldn't be able to keep Collinwood. Who could?"

"My Grandpa Tony told me about this family that had to give up their ancestral home. They sold it to the state and the place became a national landmark."

Jenna sighed. "Then the house would be open to the public. Tourists would be walking through..."

"Collinwood wouldn't be neglected or forgotten, though."

"And where would Grandmother and I live? In some condo?"

Lucas almost laughed. "You could find a nice house in Bangor or anywhere else. I didn't know you were a snob, Jenna."

Jenna took his teasing with a smile. She could feel the warmth on her cheeks. "It would be too hard. For Grandmother. And me."

Lucas and Jenna were silent as they continued searching. Lucas noticed a few rooms were boarded over, other rooms without doors. The hallway narrowed as they encountered more old furniture, including a roll-top desk and a set of drawers. Lucas noticed that the windows above them were small and far apart. The quiet bothered him in here, the clutter creating a tomb-like atmosphere.

He followed Jenna to a room with no door, although he could make out the rusty hinges on the side. He detected a rancid odor.

"Do you smell that?" he asked.

Jenna nodded. "Maybe a dead mouse..."

"Mice don't stink like that."

Jenna bounced her light around the room, resting on different items, then moving on. She stepped up to another, smaller armoire. She pulled open the doors.

The smell of long-forgotten mothballs and a thick layer of dust greeted her. Jenna's gaze fell on the row of old clothes. She kept her light on these with one hand while using the other to pull back each outfit. "I wonder if any of these could be sold..."

She pulled at an old red Nehru jacket. "Men used to wear these! Oh, look! Mini-dresses!"

She pulled at a lavender frock. "I don't think girls can wear skirts this short at the high school."

"Too distracting."

Jenna giggled. "I can imagine this with some go-go boots. Cuter than Crocs."

"Anything is cuter than Crocs."

"Well, let's grab these candlesticks and we can go. It's hot in here."

Lucas wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead. "Where are they?"

"On top of the desk over there." Jenna draped the old dress over her arm.

"You're taking that?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I'll try it on. Just for fun."

Lucas moved his light over to the desk. For a moment, he thought he saw another faint light move from the desk to the corner. Jenna took up the space, her hands on the silver candlesticks.

"Remember that ghost photo you took, out by the old house?" he asked.

"Josette?"

"I think I saw her once. A long time ago."

"I wouldn't be surprised. My cousin David saw her often when he was growing up. And a little girl ghost, Sarah Collins. She always wears a white cap on her head. But that's Collinwood."

"My grandma told me that Daphne Stiles came here when your mother disappeared. Mrs. Stiles saw at least four ghosts."

"She found ghosts, just not my mom. She said Mom was still alive, but I think she was wrong."

"Can I help you with any of that stuff?" Lucas asked.

Jenna handed him the candlesticks, keeping the dress and white vase in her arms. "There's other weird phenomena at Collinwood, too. Not just ghosts. People go into rooms and don't come out. They appear in other times. That's why Collinwood must stay in the family. No one else could understand this place, Lucas."

Maggie and Carolyn had ceased drinking by the time Jenna and Lucas returned from the west wing. Their laughter could be heard in the foyer, up the stairs.

"Can you imagine if Lucas and Jenna got married?" Carolyn asked. "We would be related."

"There are people in town waiting for it," Maggie said. "The great Collins family and the humble Evans clan become one house."

"A house of debt!" Carolyn was leaning on the armrest, her hand on her cheek, but she was smiling. "Ah...Morning Star Corporation. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Ever read about it in the Wall Street Journal?" Maggie asked.

"I don't read those papers. However, my lawyer does, and he'll check it out."

"Why do I feel so tired? It's early yet."

"Go home. Take a nap. The cannery will be there tomorrow."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"About Adam?"

"No. Leaving the other employees in the hands of new owners."

"Yes, I do. The Collins businesses have employed most of this town, but the older I get, the more overwhelmed I feel."

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I understand, but I worry about the others. They ask me and I tell them I don't know. They think I'm keeping something from them, but I'm not."

"It's just a case of which offer I accept. Some employees have already quit, accepting jobs out of town. I can't blame them." Carolyn pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. "I know what I can do."

"What?"

"Google the Morning Star Corporation." She typed 'Morning Star' into the search box on the phone screen and scrolled through the results. "Hmm. Nothing about a corporation, just references to astronomy. Makes you wonder why the corporation chose the name 'Morning Star'."

"But if Morning Star is legit or not, how can it hide from the internet?" Maggie asked.

"Good question."

Lucas and Jenna entered the board room.

"What is that?" Carolyn asked, pointing at the dress.

Jenna placed the other items on a table. "I found it in one of the armoires."

"Your favorite color."

"Right. Lavender." Jenna held the dress up against the front of her body, looking down.

"That was Vicki's dress," Maggie said.

"You're right," Carolyn replied.

"You never got rid of her stuff?" Jenna asked.

"We never got around to it," Carolyn said. "There was always the hope that she would come back..."

"You said she ran off with a man."

"You could say that."

"Well, she must have been really in love. Imagine, not even packing a suitcase."

"It's like she disappeared," Maggie said. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jenna..."

"That's all right, Maggie," Jenna said. "Just another mystery at Collinwood."

Lucas and Jenna went for a walk while their grandmothers sobered up, drinking coffee in the kitchen.

They reached the gazebo, the wooden steps creaking under their feet. Like everything else at the estate, the gazebo could have used some work, but the surrounding lilac bushes were in bloom, the sweet smell in the early afternoon breeze.

"I like this weather, before it gets too hot," Jenna said.

"I don't think I'm going back to the cannery," Lucas said.

They were sitting on the bench, the same place where, decades before, Lucas's grandfather Tony was under the spell of Cassandra, Roger Collins's wife. Tony never spoke of those days because he had few memories, most of these wiped away by Nicholas Blair.

"You can always get another job in town," Jenna said. "I'm even thinking about it."

"Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

"No. Why?"

"You want to go to a movie or something?"

"You mean...a date?"

"Why not? Just the drive-in..."

"Okay. That would be fun."

"You can wear your old dress if you want."

Jenna giggled. "No. I'll wear something else

.

### Chapter Four

I loved Rebecca Stockbridge.

My mother's last name was also Stockbridge, so Rebecca could have been a relation. I never checked because I was afraid to know.

I came home for Rebecca, I had to make sure she was alive. I'm not sure what drove me; she had chosen my cousin Paul. I should have stayed away for my peace of mind, but no one disappears without a trace.

I was shown where she was last seen, according to the recollection of three-year-old Jenna after she regained her ability to speak. She was a bright and sensitive child. She was kept in the great house as the search went on. Some thought Rebecca had run away, but her purse and other personal items were in her room. We were all sure she had intended to return. She never would have abandoned Jenna.

The search was widened after a few days. The FBI came and the news stations were informed, bringing unwanted attention to my family. It was fortunate my father and Aunt Elizabeth were dead by this time because they would have been mortified by the loss of privacy. Carolyn, however, was willing to do what needed to be done. Paul tolerated me well, there were no heated arguments; he wanted Rebecca found as much as the rest of us. But I also grew up at Collinwood and I would search every forgotten corner and hole. I saw the old ghosts and every tombstone and crypt. I had been gone for years, but Collinwood was my place, my roots, and I understood that Rebecca's disappearance was no accident.

I had left Barnabas buried in the cemetery almost thirty years before. I moved him again during the search, wondering if Barnabas had risen on his own, maybe taking Rebecca. But the coffin was still chained tight in the ground.

I couldn't exhume Barnabas alone. Adam was the only other person who knew, and I trusted him, but someone was always coming after Barnabas, usually Angelique. By this time, Quentin had left the country, although he would never betray Barnabas or the rest of the family. If nothing else, we protect each other. But I had been trusted with Barnabas's secret at nineteen years old. I couldn't tell Father, Carolyn, or any of them. My sanity was already in question, so I kept another secret.

I managed, with help from Adam, to move Barnabas again late one night. We are the only people who know where the coffin is now located. I chose a good spot; no one would find it during the search for Rebecca.

Carolyn and Paul gave interviews, but I know Rebecca's disappearance could not be explained or solved in a rational manner. The human mind wants to find a linear answer, usually based on skills of a detective or a lab technician. DNA. A confession. But I wonder if Rebecca found herself in another time or place; maybe she stepped into some doorway unintentionally and couldn't find her way back.

_I stayed searching, even after the media lost interest and Paul was ready to give up. Carolyn began to focus more on Jenna. Everyone had to return to their lives. Employees from the cannery had volunteered their time. The police had brought their cadaver dogs, suspects were questioned, but there was no proof_ _Rebecca had been kidnapped or murdered. No ransom demands. Rebecca's past had been thoroughly investigated and some interesting details were found. She had said her parents were both deceased, but no records could be found confirming their existence. The college she attended had never heard of her. She had claimed to have siblings, but none could be tracked down. She became a mystery, although she had never seemed that way. I was reminded of when I had tried to trace my mother's background and all I found were lies, not to mention more than one fire._

Lucas and Jenna's date had started off well

The Hilltop 4 drive-in movie theatre was more of a place for teens in Collinsport to socialize in person. A movie could be downloaded easily, so the survival of the Hilltop rested with the young customers. The Hilltop was once owned by Harry Johnson, former employee of the Collins family, his mother a housekeeper at Collinwood. Harry and his wife ran the Hilltop until he retired, leaving the Hilltop to his son Matt, who also worked at the cannery. Matt's daughter Claire was one of Jenna's few friends at school.

Lucas and Jenna were at the popcorn counter in the snack bar, chatting with Claire. They did not notice the two young women enter.

"Hi, Lucas."

He and Jenna turned, their smiles fading at the sight of Kimber Stiles and her younger sister, Emma.

"Hi, Kimber," Lucas said.

Kimber feigned surprised at seeing Jenna. "Hi, Jenna. Slumming?"

Jenna decided to stay good-natured, "I'm just here with Lucas. A date..."

Emma turned her head to Kimber, whose interest in Lucas was no secret. She had gone as far as asking Lucas to the senior prom. He had politely declined, not even attending prom.

Emma pulled out her phone and stepped away.

"Do you wonder," Kimber said, "what's going to happen to the people around here, Jenna?"

"What do you mean?"

Lucas put his hand on Jenna's shoulder. "Give it a rest, Kim."

"When your grandmother sells the cannery, people will be laid off. What happens when the unemployment checks run out? I know! We can all work at the Wal-Mart in Bangor for minimum wage."

Jenna could feel her face become flushed.

"It's not up to Jenna," Lucas said. "You're taking it out on the wrong person. Besides, Carolyn Stoddard lost money trying to keep the place going. She didn't want people to lose their jobs."

"Well," Kim replied," I didn't exactly want to spend my life picking the bones out of fish, but my dad had planned to retire from the place." She turned her gaze at Jenna. "Where is he going to go now?"

Jenna stayed silent because she did not know what to say. She was embarrassed but she unsure why.

"Are you really that dumb?" Kim asked.

Jenna had dealt with the rudeness of her classmates by going silent or crying alone in the bathroom. Her feelings were easily hurt, especially if her mother was mentioned. Being called dumb just made her shrug.

Lucas reached over, taking Jenna by the hand. "Enjoy the movie, Kim. While you're at it, grow up."

Jenna remained quiet during the movie. She sat in Lucas's truck as he munched on popcorn behind the wheel, taking in the adventures of another recycled superhero.

I'm not dumb, she thought. I know what's going on, but I can't be responsible for what happens to them...

"Don't take what Kim says to heart," Lucas said. "She always shoots her mouth off, you know that. She was a bitch all through school."

"But she's right. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." He covered his hand with hers on the seat. "Want some popcorn? I'll feel like a pig if I eat it all."

Jenna took a handful, placing some in her mouth. "Claire said she's joining the military. The Air Force."

"I heard. Good for her."

"The G.I. Bill will help her with college."

Lucas's phone started to vibrate. A grin spread across his face as he gazed at the screen.

"What?" Jenna asked.

"My Grandpa Tony sent me a text. He asked me how the date went."

"We're still on it!"

Lucas showed her the message. "Grandpa never abbreviates. His messages are completely typed out."

Jenna took in the message:

"How did the date go?"

"I think it's sweet," she said. "At least he sends you texts."

"I can tell him tomorrow. We're going golfing."

"Do you like to golf?"

"Not really. But it's something I can do with Grandpa."

"Does he know about Cornell?"

"Yes, I told him. He offered to help."

"Do you want him to?"

"Grandma wants me to take whatever help I can get."

"Can I ask you something kind of personal?"

"Sure."

"How come you never lived with your Grandpa?"

"My mom wanted me to live with my Grandma Maggie."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure but I think it had to do with my dad. Maybe Mom thought there was a better chance that Dad would visit me at Grandma's. If that was the case, she was wrong. I heard he got remarried, so I'm sure he's busy."

Jenna did not miss the sarcasm. "My dad wants me to visit him in California, but I can't stand Dawn. And Grandmother needs me here."

"I have to go back to the cannery. Grandma talked me into it."

"Maybe you should. Just for now."

"Maybe I can pick the bones out of the sardines."

"You can wear one of those white shower-cap things on your head. I wore one when Grandmother took me on a tour of the cannery. Plastic gloves. And an apron. Your clothes and hair will smell like fish. You can't get away from it."

"I think I'll stay on the hi-lo."

Jenna took a sip of her soda. "Grandmother and Maggie were going over to Adam's cottage tonight."

"What are they going to do with his stuff?"

"Donate most of it. Grandmother said she would cover the expenses for cremation, but she isn't sure about the cottage. She'll have to figure it out on her own."

Maggie and Carolyn sat at the sofa in Adam's cottage, in the same place where Maggie had placed her own furniture so long ago.

"Adam never mentioned a will," Carolyn said. "And I don't think he would have cared."

"He didn't have life insurance through the cannery?" Maggie asked.

"No. He didn't want to go to a doctor for a physical."

"If everything goes in probate, the court will want to know if Adam had any relatives."

Carolyn opened a desk drawer. Inside was a small rectangular box, the type used for paper checks. She pulled it out, taking it to the sofa.

"Checks?" Maggie asked.

"Adam didn't keep a bank account."

"What about taxes?"

"The deed was in my name, but Adam always made sure the property taxes were paid." Carolyn opened the lid. She pulled out what she thought were packs of checks. She gasped, dropping the paper on the couch cushion.

Maggie looked down. "Cash..."

"There's a note." Carolyn's gaze took in the familiar scrawl. "Carolyn−for Jenna's college."

Carolyn counted the bills. "Almost eight thousand..."

"Where else was he hiding money?"

"I don't know." Carolyn chuckled. "Leave it to him. He hardly spent a dime on himself. You left some of this furniture behind."

"Adam came into this world with nothing," Maggie said. "And gave away the rest. Like a monk."

"Did I ever tell you about the time Adam went to Bangor with Professor Stokes? They went to a restaurant and a woman at the bar told Adam that he strongly resembled her nephew, who had died in prison years before. She must have been drunk because she said Adam could have been wearing her dead nephew's face. That really disturbed him. Dr. Lang and Jeff Clark had stolen the parts that made Adam, but where and how? Who did those parts really belong to? And the lifeforce? He tried to explain that to me, but it made no sense. I almost died because of those experiments. I don't remember much, except for those machines and the noise and the pain. Adam wanted another mate after killing Eve. But the experiment failed. We all survived, but Adam hated Barnabas..."

"Maybe Barnabas leaving the country helped."

Carolyn was still looking down at the money. "Will you go with me to the mortuary?"

"Of course. What do you plan to do with his ashes?"

"I could sprinkle them around the cannery."

"Carolyn! You're awful!"

"Oh, I'm just kidding. Adam would have found it funny. But I think a more peaceful place, like Widow's Hill, would be appropriate. He used to take walks out there."

"Are you going to tell Jenna about the money?"

"I'll put it in the safe at Collinwood for now."

### Chapter Five

Carolyn was tired when she returned home. She checked her phone messages as she sat at the couch in the drawing room. Several were from Dawn in California.

"Carolyn! Finally!" No mistaking the impatience in Dawn Stoddard's voice.

"How are you?" Carolyn asked.

"All right. However, our house burned down."

"My God! Is Paul all right?"

"He's fine. He's out of the country. Japan. He's not coming home right away and wants me to stay at Collinwood until he comes back..."

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. But the insurance wouldn't cover everything."

"Don't worry about it."

"We'll find another house out here as soon as we can."

"Take as much time as you need."

Carolyn heard Dawn sigh on the other end. "Everything is destroyed. Good thing Paul kept his work at the office; otherwise, his new prototypes would have perished. He had to downsize, so he's been making the trips overseas."

Paul Stoddard had started his own software company, partnered with a college friend who designed the product. Paul and Dawn had settled in Los Gatos, a town in Silicon Valley.

"When can I expect you?" Carolyn asked.

"By tomorrow. I'm packing my good clothes and the rest is going into storage."

"I understand. Do you need a ride from the airport?"

"I think I'll rent a car."

"I'll get your old room ready for you."

Carolyn was thinking about how to break the news to Jenna, who had returned home from her date with Lucas. Carolyn took a few steps up the foyer stairs when she heard music coming from Jenna's room. Carolyn knew Jenna would be upset about Dawn living at Collinwood again, especially without Paul running interference.

Carolyn approached Jenna's door and knocked. The music stopped. Jenna opened the door and her grandmother entered.

Carolyn saw the puffy redness in Jenna's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Lucas?"

"No. Just some other girls..."

"You shouldn't let them upset you."

"I know."

Carolyn sighed. "Here's more good news. Dawn called and she's coming to stay with us..."

Carolyn explained the housefire and Paul's absence, along with Dawn's expected arrival. Jenna's expression did not change, but Carolyn knew that the idea of putting up with Dawn for any length of time would be almost unbearable for her granddaughter.

"Couldn't she stay at the Collinsport Inn?" Jenna asked.

"No, Jenna."

"All right. I'll be polite but I can't guarantee she'll be nice to me."

"She better. Or a room at the inn is what she's getting."

"She's been away for a long time. Maybe she won't hate me as much."

"Oh, Jenna." Carolyn sat down on the bed next to her granddaughter. "People are complicated, that's for sure. But you're not a little girl anymore. All you can do is make yourself happy."

"When you say that, it makes me feel lonely."

"If you like yourself, you're never lonely. It took me a long time to figure that out because you can have a lot of friends and a caring family and still feel lonely sometimes." She looked around Jenna's room. "I remember when this was David's room. He never went to school in Collinsport. Neither did I. Boarding schools for us. Choate for David, Gstaad for me. Mother wouldn't have dreamed of sending David or me to public school. They knew how it would be; the jealousy and hostility in town..."

"Are they always going to be that way?" Jenna asked.

"What's reassuring is all of the sympathy I have received. Gerry Stiles isn't really angry about losing his job; the employees seem to understand that times are changing."

"Kim Stiles didn't make it sound that way."

"Everyone has their cross to bear, as Mother used to say."

"I wonder if she ever felt so lonely."

"Oh, yes. She didn't leave the house for years while I was growing up, but she still ran the estate, including the cannery."

"What will you do? I mean, after selling the cannery?"

"I just want some peace. I'm taking care of Adam's remains tomorrow, then Dawn should arrive later. She doesn't know how long Paul will be gone."

"But I wonder," Jenna said, "why did she agree to come here? She could have stayed with friends in Los Gatos. You'd think she would have put up more of a fight, she hates Collinwood."

"She said something about the insurance, and I didn't want to seem uncaring."

"I'm sure she won't stay long."

Tony Peterson gazed at the dark clouds in the sky.

He sat in his golf cart, checking the time on his watch. Lucas had called, letting his grandfather know he would be late, but Tony was just waiting for the downpour to begin. The other golfers had already packed up and rode away on their carts. Tony soon decided to follow, driving his own cart up to the clubhouse. The sprinkle started before he could get inside, a few raindrops landing on his red polo shirt and salt and pepper beard.

He decided to sit in a comfortable chair instead of a bar stool. The day's newspaper rested on the table in front of him.

The headline read:

'Cannery sale pending'

He rested the paper in his lap. He knew Carolyn was holding out for the highest bidder, but he wondered if that move was practical. He thought the best decision was to protect the property from outsiders because he could not see how another chain store could benefit Collinsport. Instead, Tony favored the idea of another manufacturer that could employ the locals. Jenna Stoddard had agreed but also understood that her grandmother needed a serious infusion of capital, not another investment.

"What can you do with an old cannery building?"

Tony heard the question but kept reading. "Tear it down or it just keeps bleeding money."

When Tony looked up, he saw a tall, slender man in khakis and a blue button-down shirt. His face was open and handsome, a high forehead above pale, compelling blue eyes. His light brown hair was long and straight, bangs resting across his forehead. When he smiled, a gap appeared in his upper front teeth.

"I'm Sterling Gift. I own the Morning Star Corporation."

Tony set down the paper. The men shook hands, although Tony remained seated. "I heard about your interest in the cannery..."

"I feel that the time has come for Morning Star to expand to the mainland U.S., although Alaska was a great place to start a food manufacturing company. When the economy was struggling, it turned out to be recession-proof."

"People have to eat."

"But meat has become more expensive and the quality is lacking. Morning Star was able to grow by offering vegan and gluten-free products along with fish and seafood. With some improvements, the cannery could be of good use."

"Have you been inside the building, Mr. Gift?"

"Call me Stirling. No, I haven't. But I figure the building can't be any worse than a facility Morning Star bought in Oregon last year. The building was older than the Collins cannery, but the improvements were not as expensive as initially thought. I chose to sell the building recently and made a profit."

"Is that what you have planned for the cannery? To simply flip the building?"

"Mr. Petersen?"

"Tony."

"Tony, I really am committed to bringing Morning Star to Collinsport. Oregon turned out to be the wrong place, for many reasons."

The rain began to pour hard, thunder rumbling close.

"What makes Collinsport right?" Tony asked.

"The location."

"Collinsport no longer has Collins ships to bring in the fish. Carolyn Stoddard sold the shipping business decades ago."

"Perfect place for the vegetation products. People will be employed again in Collinsport."

"I don't have a problem with that," Tony said. "However, I would sweeten the deal by offering Carolyn Stoddard some shares in Morning Star."

"That is an option." The rakish smile again. "Are you interested in doing business?"

"Possibly."

"Sorry I'm late, Grandpa. I overslept."

Lucas, his hair and clothes almost soaked, approached Tony, but stopped at the sight of Stirling Gift. Tony made the introductions.

"I'm sure you would like to spend some time with your grandson," Stirling said. "Maybe we can meet for dinner sometime, Tony."

"Before you go, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Is Sterling Gift your real name?"

Sterling chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "My father came up with the name Sterling. He's very creative. Always full of ideas, that one."

He said his goodbyes and left the clubhouse, although the downpour continued. Lucas sat down next to his grandfather.

"What do you think of Sterling Gift?" Lucas asked.

"Something about him seems too slick. I think I'll do a little background check."

Lucas handed Tony his iPhone. "Google is free, Grandpa."

### Chapter Six

Jenna gathered the old lavender dress in her lap. She had hoped to wipe the face of Kim Stiles from her mind. Instead, she had made the mistake of checking her Facebook page before breakfast.

Emma Stiles was sneaky. While her sister mouthed off at Jenna in the snack bar, Emma had decided to report the encounter on her Facebook page. Jenna and Emma had a few mutual Facebook friends and the post was followed by several insulting comments.

"The Collins family is cursed, so they'll get what's coming to them..."

"That place is haunted. Collinwood should be burned down..."

"Jenna Stoddard has no friends except Lucas Evans. He feels sorry for her..."

If Kim and Emma were trying to make me feel guilty, they did it right, Jenna thought. But why should I feel guilty? I'll never have a chance at the business. Grandmother doesn't ask me to go with her to work anymore because she knows there's no point. The legacy my ancestors worked for will be lost in time.

Jenna rose from her bed, her eyes still on Victoria Winters's old dress. She removed her own clothes, putting her blouse and jeans on the bed. The dress smelled like old perfume. She slipped the dress over her head, her arms through the long sleeves, the miniskirt settling above her knees. The high collar had two buttons behind the neck, which Jenna managed to join to the tiny loops. However, she could not reach the back zipper. Barefoot, Jenna walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner. The dress was a bit large at the waist and shoulders, but the color looked good on her. She pulled her hair up and away from her face.

She thought about the other clothes in the west wing. Her grandmother said that Victoria's clothes were kept because they hoped she would come back.

Where did she go? Jenna thought. To another state? Out of the country? And why do I have to pry these things out of Grandmother?

She knew the dress would have to be taken in at the waist and shoulders. She could find some pins downstairs to pull the fabric back. Jenna walked over the door and turned the knob.

She knew something was disturbed as soon as she stepped into the hallway. She felt cold, the skin on her back exposed, breaking into goosebumps. She took several careful steps.

This is not my home...

Of course, it is, you grew up here...

But I'm not in the right place ...

Jenna tried to stay calm, taking a deep breath. She kept walking but, as she took in the dark paneling on the walls and the unfamiliar rugs on the floor, she realized she was somewhere else.

Jenna was approaching the head of the stairs when she turned around.

Maybe I can get back to my room, she thought.

She started down the hall, coming to her door. She reached for the knob, but it was already turning.

The door swung open, and she recognized the young man's face. She looked over his shoulder.

_This room is no longer mine_...

She found her voice. "David?"

David Collins's thick brown hair was parted to the side. He wore a turtleneck sweater and bell-bottom jeans. Behind him, a record was playing on a stereo turntable.

" _I am a traveler of both time and space..."_

She knew that song. Kashmir. Led Zeppelin.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Jenna Stoddard."

David's brown eyes widened. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her into the room. He shut the door behind him, then walked over to the stereo. He raised the volume, taking Jenna into a corner, the place where she had kept her mirror.

David Collins had grown tall, his face lean, but open. His eyes were bright, but his gaze wary. "Barnabas and Julia said someone might come in Vicki's place. Someone from the future, not the past."

Jenna shook her head. "I don't understand..."

"You will. I can help you."

He recognized the old dress, still smelling of Vicki's favorite perfume, Chanel No. 5.

"Why are you wearing Vicki's dress?" he asked.

"I was just trying it on. I found it in the west wing." She looked around. "What...year is this?"

"1975."

Robert Plant's wail filled her ears, the heavy sound adding to her anxiety.

"They can't know who you are. Carolyn and Aunt Elizabeth are away, just father and me. And Paul..."

"Why am I here?" Jenna asked.

"A man named Sterling. Barnabas said someone evil would come, a Leviathan told him so. But Barnabas couldn't help. Have you ever met him?"

"No. I've seen the painting in the foyer..."

David smirked. "It's still around, huh?'

"Grandmother likes it. There were two Barnabas Collins, right?"

"What year did you come from?"

"2015."

"Forty years from now."

Jenna gasped. "My God! I need to get back! I can't stay here!"

"You don't have a choice, Jenna. But you'll be all right. I'll make sure of that."

David stepped over to the stereo. The record had started skipping.

" _All will be revealed...all will be revealed...all will be revealed..."_

Carolyn had hurried to be on time for her meeting at the cannery with Sterling Gift. However, when she entered the conference room, no one else was there, including her attorney.

She set her purse on the long table. She was considering asking the office manager if Gift had cancelled when she heard laughter in the hallway. She opened the door, and saw a tall man dressed in a gray suit, being followed by Carolyn's attorney, accountant, and business manager.

"The place was haunted, no doubt about it. The buyers insisted a priest come in and bless the building. I was happy to comply. You have to be careful with those old places." The man stopped talking and flashed his gap-toothed smile. "Sorry I'm late, Ms. Stoddard, but I started telling these gentlemen about another sale, long ago."

Carolyn smiled and nodded. "Well, it seems I missed out."

"Oh, I'm full of stories. You'll tire of me after a while."

The men followed Carolyn into the conference room.

"I didn't introduce myself, Ms. Stoddard. I'm Sterling Gift."

Carolyn, as she and Sterling shook hands, was captivated for a moment by the pale blue eyes, almost cat-like in shape. He was unconventionally handsome, but charming. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Gift."

"Call me Sterling. I heard you lost a friend yesterday."

"Yes. A sudden heart attack. He worked at the cannery for almost forty years."

"And I'm sure there's others at the cannery who have worked as long. I'm not here to lower the standard of life in Collinsport..."

Carolyn politely listened. Not unlike Tony Petersen, she noticed Sterling's slick, politician-like approach to business. She noticed he was slow to talk numbers, more interested in his corporation as a whole; every acquisition seamlessly added, like squares on a quilt. The Canadians and Pakistanis had been more direct, but Carolyn was not so gullible as to lose her legacy to a charmer such as Gift.

Carolyn glanced at her lawyer, who was taking notes, along with the accountant and business manager, all of whom were listening to Sterling in rapt attention. She had known these men for years, but it seemed Sterling had them under a spell.

"...but I've given a lot of thought about investing in Collinsport. Of course, it begins here, with the cannery. I believe that every dollar spent will be returned. Because of this, my offer may seem a bit modest..."

Oh, great, Carolyn thought. Here come the six figures.

"The offer I'm making is around 1.5 million dollars."

Her attorney met her eyes and the two other men had to hide their smiles.

The Canadians offered nine hundred thousand, the Pakistanis seven hundred thousand, she thought. They were paying mostly for the lot and location; the buildings would be torn down. This man is crazy.

Carolyn knew better than to gamble. She had been careful when she sold half of the shipping business years ago, becoming a partner with the buyers, then letting them buy her out. She had no regrets; the other businesses had become too expensive to support. However, Sterling Gift seemed to live in some optimistic bubble.

Before her attorney could speak, Carolyn said, "Your offer is generous, Sterling. But when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. I would be happy to show you around the cannery. I could produce a long list of every improvement that needs to be made. Trust me, you may want to re-adjust your offer..."

Sterling nodded. "I appreciate your candor. Yes, I would like to take a tour. But I don't think my offer will change."

Carolyn shrugged. "We'll see."

Carolyn's day was full. After the meeting and tour with Sterling, Carolyn met up with Maggie at the mortuary. By tomorrow, Adam's ashes would be available for pickup.

Maggie accompanied Carolyn back to Collinwood. The time was almost four in the afternoon. Dawn would be arriving soon. Carolyn didn't want Jenna to be alone with Dawn; not that Dawn had ever harmed Jenna, but Jenna could recall a few confrontations when Dawn had told her stepdaughter exactly what she thought of Jenna and Rebecca, who Dawn said could have jumped off Widow's Hill. Jenna never told anyone except Carolyn about what Dawn said, and only after Paul and Dawn moved to California. Carolyn had also been a witness to Dawn on the telephone in the drawing room, telling someone she thought Carolyn was schizophrenic and should be committed, along with David.

"Paul can manage all of the estate," she had said. "He's the executor, anyway."

Paul never tried to have his mother or cousin institutionalized, but the bond between Paul and Jenna had been fragile. He was a workaholic with a dream of having his own business, and Silicon Valley beckoned. The unspoken agreement was that Jenna would stay at Collinwood. When he left, Jenna was still dreaming of her mother, still searching the grounds alone. Carolyn told her to stop, worried that the girl might uncover something her grandmother did not want her to see.

Maggie had been surprised at the news of Dawn coming to Collinwood. "I always thought she hated the place."

"Not to mention Jenna and me."

"But you graciously offered for her to stay here."

"I did not offer, but I agreed. Their house burned down, Maggie. I'm not heartless."

"I heard their house was impressive."

"A lot of wealthy people live in Los Gatos."

"Did Dawn mention what caused the fire?"

"No. It was a strange conversation. I wonder why Paul didn't call me instead."

"He's out of the country."

"Why would she come alone? I just never trusted her after what she said about having me committed. Schizophrenic? Me?"

"That _bitch_ ," Maggie said.

Carolyn started chuckling and they were both laughing by the time Carolyn parked her car into the garage. They walked to the locked front doors.

Carolyn called for Jenna when she entered but received no answer. Maggie followed her to the drawing room.

"Maybe Jenna took off to avoid Dawn," Maggie said.

"Can't say I blame her." They both sat at the couch. Neither woman wanted to start drinking. Instead, Carolyn told Maggie about her meeting with Sterling Gift.

"Lucas met him at the clubhouse." Maggie said. "He seemed like a smooth operator."

"Too smooth. He offered me a million five."

"The place isn't worth that much."

"I know. We all know. I'd be a fool not to take the offer, but the man is strange. For one thing, he had no representation with him. The Morning Star Corporation has no internet presence. It's as if the man just showed up in Collinsport. I can't trust him."

"Lucas said Tony felt the same way. A corporation with no real identity. What about Alaska? His business originates there. It would be easy to make a few phone calls to Anchorage."

"I'll ask him myself next time. I didn't ask for anything on paper because he wouldn't stop talking. And he has this hypnotic quality. I haven't been around anyone like that in a long time."

"Barnabas?"

"And Jeb when I first met him. They put spells on people without even trying."

"Nicholas Blair."

Carolyn nodded. "Sterling Gift could be his son."

"Then I will be avoiding Mr. Gift."

Lucas arrived to pick up Maggie. He was tired after a day at the cannery. Instead of operating a hi-lo, he had worked at an assembly line, using a small pair of scissors to snip the heads and tails off the sardines before packing in the tins. He had spent eight hours doing this job in a cold room, careful not to cut into his fingers. He noticed one of his co-workers had a few wrapped in bandages. Lucas was well-aware, as he entered the drawing room at Collinwood, that he smelled like fish. A source of humor at the cannery, fish odor was as much a part of the job as the cold temperatures and wet floors.

"Where's Jenna?" Lucas asked.

"I think she's upstairs," Carolyn said. "Maggie told me that you met Sterling Gift."

"Yeah. Slick guy. Grandpa doesn't like him. We Googled his name and found nothing, not even an address."

"Same here," Carolyn said. "I'll go look for Jenna upstairs. She probably wandered to the west wing again."

Maggie waited until Carolyn left the room to ask Lucas about his day at work. Lucas was careful with his answer because he wanted to avoid a confrontation. He had told Jenna he wanted to quit his job, but he had yet to mention this to his grandmother, who had already talked him out of it once. Maggie had used her pull at the cannery to get him the job. Lucas did not want to deal with the guilt, so he planned to keep going back.

"My day was fine," he said.

"God, Lucas, do you hate it that much?"

Lucas could never hide how his emotions showed on his face. "I don't hate it. The job's okay for the summer."

"If you want to quit, I won't be mad."

"I don't want to quit. Cornell isn't cheap, even with a scholarship."

"You really want to go to Cornell, don't you?"

"Why not?"

"Will you miss Jenna?"

"She probably won't miss me, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"I can't find Jenna." Carolyn entered, breathing hard. "I went to the west wing, calling her name, but no answer. She's not in her room."

"Maybe she went for a drive," Maggie said.

"She's probably browsing at the mall."

"That's likely," Lucas said. "I'll call her phone."

After receiving no answer on his phone, Lucas shook his head.

"Maybe she just turned it off," Maggie said.

"She never does that," he said. "Ms. Stoddard, did you go into Jenna's room?"

"No. I knocked, but she didn't answer."

Lucas followed Carolyn as far as the foot of the stairs, not wanting to seem intrusive. He and Jenna had been friends from childhood, but he had never entered the great house or grounds without permission. Maggie had always behaved the same way, except for when she was David's governess.

Maggie soon joined her grandson at the stairs.

"Jenna always has her phone with her," he said.

"What about the shower? Or if she's asleep?"

"Ms. Stoddard would have found her in the bathroom or her room."

"Her phone was on her bed." Carolyn held the phone in her hand as she stepped down the stairs. "I think you're right, Lucas."

"I'll take a walk around the grounds," he said. "Or she could be so deep in the west wing, she didn't hear you call. Probably looking for more old dresses."

### Chapter Seven

"She never goes far from Collinwood, does she?" Maggie asked.

Maggie and Lucas entered the old pool-house, their voices echoing through the structure. Long neglected, the dried-up rectangular pool took up most of the room, surrounded by cracked floor tiles. The roof had fallen apart decades ago, the carved palm fronds and other beautiful touches gone. The building should have been torn down, but the time and expense was too overwhelming.

"Claire Johnson told me about how the Stiles sisters made some nasty comments about Jenna on Facebook," Lucas said. "They can't leave her alone..."

"Carolyn had offered to send her to Europe for the summer, but she turned it down."

"The money. Jenna's been dealing with the reality that she isn't really a rich girl."

"Everything's tied up in Collinwood."

"Jenna said that Collinwood has to stay with the family. No one else would understand the place..."

"I always felt," Maggie said, "that Collinwood, like other fine old houses, could almost breathe and absorb the energy of the people who lived there over the centuries. So many ghosts..."

"We should check the old house. Jenna is probably in the parlor, sitting in one of Barnabas's chairs..."

"Carolyn had it cleaned out last year. It may have to be condemned."

"Jenna and I used to play hide and seek in there."

"So did your father and Paul."

"I almost fell through the floor upstairs, in Josette's room. I got my leg caught between the rotting boards. I saw Josette sitting on the bed, dressed in white. The room had gone cold, but it was summer. Jenna ran back to Collinwood and Ms. Stoddard called an ambulance. But all I had was a sprained ankle. We weren't allowed to play in the old house anymore."

"I remember. Did you ever see Sarah?"

"No. But I heard a little girl singing out by the gazebo. London Bridges..."

Maggie and Lucas walked the length of the pool. They called Jenna's name, but no answer. Maggie's gaze drifted into the mess of stagnant rainwater, leaves, and branches.

"She's not here," Lucas said. "We can check the old house and Widow's Hill. Maybe the cemetery."

"Are you worried?"

"Not really. She should be back by dark, wherever she is."

"There's supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight."

They walked out of the pool-house and across the grounds to the old house. From a distance, Maggie took in the decaying roof and broken windows covered with boards. The front columns were covered with moss and debris, the cobwebs creating a flimsy tapestry between each column. As she and Lucas came closer, Maggie was almost hoping that the door would open, and Barnabas Collins would be standing there in his red smoking jacket.

The front door was padlocked. Maggie looked down at the stone steps and porch. The old house had been built to last but was lonely in its shabby immortality. Lucas called for Jenna all around the house. They had noticed the sky becoming gray, fat clouds accumulating. Maggie looked through a cracked window, and she could see the crumbling parlor. However, the fireplace was still intact, the chandelier gone along with the portrait of Josette du Pres. The room was blanketed in thick dust, clumps gathered in the corners and on the ornate woodwork. The rotting floors were bare, the rugs and furniture removed.

"The back door has a padlock, too," Lucas said. "Jenna wouldn't be able to get in unless she has a key."

They searched Widow's Hill until thunder started to rumble. Maggie noticed Lucas becoming more agitated.

"The only place we haven't checked is Rose Cottage and the carriage house," Maggie said. "And those are locked up, too."

Lucas glanced over the cliff, at the waves crashing against the oncoming storm.

"Let's go back," he said. "She's probably already sitting by the fire."

Maggie kept her hands shoved in her jacket, looking out at the cliffs. For a moment, she wondered if Jenna would attempt suicide. The thought made her stomach sink, but Jenna would never hurt her grandmother, Carolyn needed her.

Maggie and Lucas made it back to the great house in enough time to avoid the downpour. Lucas almost ran into the drawing room, expecting to see Jenna. Instead, no one, the fireplace cold.

Carolyn had come downstairs. "I checked both wings. She's not in the house."

"We'll give her a few hours," Maggie said, "before we start to really worry."

They were still waiting when Mr. Mays called, announcing Dawn's arrival at the gate.

Carolyn set her phone down. "I was so busy searching for Jenna, I forgot about Dawn."

Mr. Mays helped Dawn enter with part of her luggage. Lucas brought the rest, at least eight cases of different sizes.

Carolyn gave Dawn a brief hug. Dawn was still an attractive woman, her blonde hair loose past the shoulders, her tan skin unlined. She wore a pair of diamond hoop earrings and a purple blouse over black pants.

"The flight was long and bumpy," she said.

"Well, you're home now." Carolyn said. "Lucas? Could you take these bags upstairs?"

"Sure." He grabbed two heavy cases, taking these to Paul and Dawn's old room.

Dawn rubbed at her blue eyes, ringed red from fatigue. "I packed what I could but it all smells like smoke. I was in shock. What a mess."

"I'm so sorry," Maggie said.

"You remember Maggie," Carolyn said. "Lucas is her grandson. All grown up now, like Jenna."

Dawn smiled. "The last time I saw them, they were playing video games in your uncle's old study."

Whenever Dawn would mention Roger, Carolyn would be reminded of his ex-wife Cassandra. Because of this, Carolyn always felt uneasy around Dawn. She was glad David never met Paul's second wife.

"Lucas is going to Cornell this fall and Jenna was accepted to three good colleges," Carolyn said. "She hasn't chosen yet..."

"Where is she? In her room, I suppose."

"We were looking for her. I think she went out while I was gone."

"Did she know I was coming?"

"I told her. Come into the drawing room, Dawn. I'll make you a drink."

Dawn, as Carolyn and Maggie turned away, stopped at the portrait of Barnabas.

" _You haven't gone anywhere, have you?"_

She was still gazing at the portrait, well over two hundred years old, when she heard Lucas coming down the stairs.

"They always stop to look at that dude."

"They?" Dawn asked.

"Every woman who comes through the door. Even Ms. Stoddard and my grandma."

"When I lived here, I would find myself rather transfixed by him."

"He's been dead since 1796."

Her eyes stayed on the portrait. She whispered, "No one dies at Collinwood. Not really..."

"What?"

"Nevermind. There's a few more bags at the door."

"No problem."

"Thank you."

Dawn joined Maggie and Carolyn in the drawing room. Dawn took a glass of white wine from Carolyn and sat at one of the flower-patterned chairs.

"How are things going with the sale of the cannery?" she asked.

Carolyn filled her in about Sterling Gift, along with Adam's death.

Barnabas's ugly creation is dead at last, Dawn thought. He would look at me sometimes, as if he remembered me as Angelique, Nicholas Blair's vampire.

"...but I don't trust Sterling Gift, so no sale," Carolyn said.

If you don't sell to Sterling, Dawn thought, you will wish you had.

Carolyn waited with Lucas and Maggie for a few hours, hoping Jenna would walk through the door.

"I could drive out to the mall," Lucas said. "I know her favorite stores, but that doesn't explain why she didn't take her phone."

"I could go into town," Dawn said. "I need to pick up a few things."

She was standing in the threshold to the drawing room, jacket on, purse slung over her shoulder.

Carolyn shrugged. "If you want to..."

"I can have her name announced at Customer Service. Might flush her out." Dawn smiled. "I won't be gone long."

Dawn had rented a car, so she planned to come and go as she pleased. After the door shut behind Dawn, Carolyn and Maggie exchanged looks. Lucas pulled out his phone.

"I'm calling the police, anyway," he said.

"They won't take us seriously," Maggie said. "She's only been gone for the day. The police will think she's out with friends."

"I'm her _best_ friend. And something's wrong, I know it."

Dawn never intended to go to the mall because she knew someone was waiting for her at the Collinsport Inn.

She entered the old place that had undergone many makeovers through the years. The lobby area was now more open; the diner gone, a gift shop in its place. A couch and two sofas faced a fireplace with a television above the mantel. The counter boasted two computers. A large skylight brightened the area.

The young woman at the counter would not have remembered Dawn Stoddard when she lived at Collinwood almost ten years ago. "Hello. May I help you?"

"I'm here to see a guest," Dawn said. "Sterling Gift."

"I'll call his room." After checking, she hung up the desk phone. "He's in Room 214."

"Thank you." Dawn took the stairs alone. When she turned the corner, Sterling was waiting for her in the hallway.

"The place still smells musty" he said. "It needs to be torn down."

"Like the cannery."

"Let's have a drink."

She followed him to his room. She sat at a chair by the window while Sterling poured a hard lemonade into a glass with ice. He handed the drink to her, making one for himself. "I couldn't help but notice that you don't look the same..."

"You haven't changed a bit."

Sterling grinned. "Interesting coincidence, the two of us back in Collinsport."

"Tell me your plans for the Collins family."

"Shouldn't they be called the Stoddard family now? Not a Collins left in name."

"Except David."

"David is no threat. However, he has cousins that seem to defy death, don't they? Barnabas and Quentin."

"Are you more interested in _them_ than the cannery?"

"Not right now, my bright angel. You've done all right for yourself, you know. Considering that _your_ gift..."

"Was taken from me. But that was our deal. My powers for my freedom on Earth."

"You're of more use to me as a witch then a well-preserved mortal." He took her hand, lifting her arm. His lips met hers in a slow but chaste kiss. Dawn felt his energy drift down her throat, filling all of her. The power was returning. She could hear those old voices, calling her, welcoming her back.

My magic, she thought. My will.

Before Sterling could pull away, Dawn threw her head back and laughed. Sterling smiled at the sound.

Maggie, armed with a flashlight, decided to do another search of the wet grounds with Carolyn, who sat at the wheel of Mr. Mays's golf cart.

"Jenna probably isn't at the mall," Carolyn said. "None of the cars are missing from the garage. She usually takes the Volkswagen and it's still there."

"How come you didn't tell Dawn?' Maggie asked.

"I was humoring her. She was taking an interest in Jenna's welfare for once."

"Do you want to try Rose Cottage?"

"That place has been locked up longer than I've been alive," Carolyn said. "But I found the keys."

"We could check the old greenhouse, too."

"Jenna knows better than to go in there. Some glass tiles almost fell on her last year."

"All the more reason to check."

Lucas had called the police, but an officer had yet to arrive. After Rebecca's disappearance and every strange event leading up to it, the Collinsport Police Department was justifiably wary of the Collins family. The new generation of police officers did not have the same respect for the family, so Carolyn avoided them when she could.

Maggie and Carolyn stopped first at the greenhouse. In the dark, the place looked worse. However, some rays of moonlight reflected against the old glass tiles on the roof and the ground. A breeze whistled through the metal skeleton, creating a strange tune. As the women approached the structure in the golf cart, Maggie caught a figure walking through the weeds in the distance. She shined her flashlight on the person.

"Carolyn! Stop!"

"What?" She slammed on the brake. "Jenna?"

"No. Look..."

Carolyn followed Maggie's light to a woman. They were both too shocked to move. The woman walked towards them, wearing a chocolate brown minidress, auburn hair short but wavy, her doe eyes wide in the light. She stood still for a moment, as if knowing Carolyn and Maggie would need a moment to realize who they were seeing.

"Julia?" Maggie asked.

The wind blew through her hair as the woman smiled. Carolyn took in the gentle gaze, knowing this woman could not be anyone else but Dr. Julia Hoffman, who left Collinsport over forty years ago.

"You can't be a ghost," Carolyn said.

"Would a ghost ask for a ride?" Julia asked.

"This _is_ Collinwood."

"I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and before you tell me what year this is, I really need a drink."

"Of course," Maggie said. "You can get in the back. Carolyn, snap out of it and get us back to the house."

Julia settled in the back seat of the cart and Maggie caught the scent of Julia's perfume and cigarette smoke. For a moment, Maggie wondered if she and Carolyn had gone to the past and Julia was showing them the way home.

Can this night get any stranger? she thought.

### Chapter Eight

Barnabas told me someone would come from the future. He had no idea who the person would be, but I think he hoped he could switch places; he could buy some time, so to speak. How or why he knew this, I still don't know.

I, still a boy, had been afraid of Barnabas when he entered my life, but I grew to trust my cousin. I always knew there was something separate-other-about him. When Barnabas revealed the truth to me, all I could feel was sadness and pity. I was no longer a boy, but a college dropout suffering from anxiety and depression. I wanted to help Barnabas, but could I bear keeping another secret? However, I couldn't forget Barnabas had protected me many times.

Barnabas had returned from the past during a time of change at Collinwood. My father and Aunt Elizabeth were still managing the estate and Collins Enterprises, but they were looking forward to turning the responsibility over to me. Their disappointment was painfully obvious.

Carolyn was the mother of three-year-old Paul. Maggie had yet to return home with her son Sam. Adam was living with Professor Stokes. Quentin had left town along with Julia and Willie. I never knew where they went; their presences went away, one by one. Amy and Carrie were gone. By the fall of 1974, I was at Princeton.

I didn't make one friend at school, although I could have made more effort. The anxiety attacks didn't help. I had no major and no focus. I was surrounded by the sons and daughters of wealthy families, but I felt like a stranger. I stopped showing up for classes, staying in bed, too anxious to sleep but too exhausted to get up. I was sent home.

After I was released from the hospital in Boston, the doctor in Collinsport gave me tranquilizers. I recovered, taking a job at the cannery, but I never took any interest in the business holdings. I wanted to travel and was getting ready to talk Father into letting me go to Europe when my cousin Jenna appeared.

1975-The Eternal Abyss...

Sterling was impervious to the blistering heat from the unrelenting sun. He wore nothing but a loin cloth and sandals in this place, no other clothing was needed. He charged across the sands in his golden chariot, pulled by a white stallion, the animal crazed with rage.

He knew his search might take time. She had been out here for so long, several years.

I sent her here after she died, he thought. When Trask shot her.

Sterling continued to ride along in his desert. His fair hair was white in the harsh light. Blue eyes were a glowing red, facial features sharp. His wings were thin, pale membranes. The sun was different here; more a mass of energy powered by the infinite numbers of souls belonging to Sterling.

He found his witch, a lump in the sand. He had to give Angelique credit; to escape the heat, she buried herself.

He halted the chariot and stepped down. He approached the sandy mound. He could hear her voice, a faint whisper, praying, conversing with Hecate, Demeter, and her other goddesses. Such a pagan; but it was not her beliefs that brought Angelique to this, it was her own contrary nature.

Sterling ran his hand over the grave. He raised his arm, finger pointing downward. "Time to wake, my witch..."

The sand started to blow away, becoming more of a swirl, then separating. A lock of stringy blonde hair appeared, along with her head and jaw.

"Rise for me, Angelique."

Her body, wrapped in a once-beautiful nineteenth century gown, tore itself from the gritty hole. Her fingers, skin and bone, flexed. The dress fabric was tearing, layers of sand dropped from her curled-up form. She rose several feet before Sterling moved her to a spot close by. When she landed, she groaned.

Angelique turned her head. Her skin had turned to leather, her eyes almost black. She spoke telepathically. "Who wakes me?"

Sterling replied in the same style, his head cocked to one side. "Your best friend."

"I have no friends."

Sterling winked at her. "Oh, don't despair, my witch. Things are looking up."

He stood over her. Her eyes could barely focus, she had been underground for too long. She was able to take in the blurry image of the lean figure in loincloth and sandals, long hair shiny silver. The almost-transparent wings spread above his shoulders. The glowing red eyes were unlike anything she had seen, nothing human. She started to recall what brought her here. "I remember you. But you didn't look like this..."

"It's been awhile, my dear. I sent you here after..."

"Trask! He shot me. Barnabas..."

She was still very weak. Sterling bent over her, looking into her eyes.

"Let me kiss you," he said.

"I am dead."

"You will live again."

His lips touched hers, the skin cracked leather. He smelled like sweet musk. She felt a stirring, then a hot flush, all through her. Her skin renewed itself from within, the thick blonde hair reborn, pushing through her scalp. Her eyes cleared, but the light still blinded her. The kiss had only lasted seconds, but Angelique could not only feel herself restored, but she also felt her powers, her connection to enchantment, fully present.

She looked down at the tattered gown. When she rose, getting steady on her feet in the sand, the fabric fell away. She was naked, her skin pink and smooth, as lovely as when she was alive. When she loved Barnabas. "What do you want from me?"

Sterling's wings trembled for a moment, his silver bangs brushing against his forehead. "You're going home. You can serve me best there."

"Where is home?"

"Collinwood."

"Barnabas?"

"Oh, this isn't about him. I need you to help me destroy the Collins family and their wealth."

Angelique did not understand Sterling's intentions, but she knew anything was better than the desert inferno her spirit body had endured for over a century.

Angelique followed Sterling to his chariot as he explained his plans. She held on as the white horse took them through the desert. They continued to ride until the horse entered an invisible entrance, a tall vertical line. In seconds, Angelique found herself in a massive stable, containing horses like Sterling's.

"I have clothes for you and myself," Sterling said.

She was soon wearing a dark blue maxi-dress and he a light suit. They walked out of the stables into a new reality; sunshine and flowers and birds chirping.

"Where are we now?" Angelique asked.

"This is my home. Beauty I have created. We will be leaving soon."

Angelique saw a great glass house in the distance. She felt the breeze in her hair, on her new skin. "I am ready to go home."

"Good. If you serve me well, you will be free and may live out your life as a mortal woman. No powers, but you will never see Hell again. When you die, you will rest in peace."

"I will be alone."

"Better alone than enslaved. Or so I've heard..."

"You're no one's slave, Sterling."

"I am a slave to my will, and so are you."

They both looked out at the field of flowers. "What time are you taking me to?"

"1975. Interesting time for the Collins family."

"Is Barnabas there?" she asked.

"He is asleep. In a coffin. And don't get any ideas of waking him."

"What do you want me to do there?"

"You'll find out. Let's just say that you will earn your freedom."

Collinsport, 1975

David had managed to sneak Jenna out of the great house to take her shopping. She now sported a new white peasant blouse and bell-bottomed jeans from a department store in Bangor. However, she passed on the platform shoes, accepting a pair of low-heeled boots.

"If I am going pass you off as a college friend," David said, "you'll have to look more modern. Besides, Father could have recognized that old dress as Vicki's. We need to be careful..."

On the drive home in David's Jeep, the radio playing Fleetwood Mac's 'Hypnotized', David and Jenna came up with a new identity for Jenna; her name was Jenny Baker, a former classmate from Princeton. She grew up in Bangor. Jenna had visited Bangor often, but had never been to the Princeton campus.

"If Father asks you anything about Princeton, be careful with your answer," David said. "Or change the subject."

"I always got the impression Uncle Roger was very proper," Jenna said. "How will he feel about a girlfriend just showing up to stay?"

"You can stay in a guest room, far enough away from my room to make Father happy. Aunt Elizabeth and Carolyn went to Boston for a week. We have Paul and Father is occupied with him."

Jenna sighed. "My father. He's just a little boy..."

"Three years old. Spoiled rotten."

"He always said he was spoiled by Uncle Roger and my great-grandmother. He and Grandmother would laugh about it."

"Nothing funny about it right now. He never sleeps through the night. Of course, I had trouble sleeping in the house when I was little."

"Me, too. I would try to go to sleep, but I heard voices. My room would get cold, even in the summer. I could hear Josette weeping or singing in French. I think I heard her praying one night. The Lord's Prayer."

"I saw Jeremiah Collins's ghost. And Joshua Collins, Barnabas's father."

"Barnabas?"

"The first Barnabas, I mean."

"Do you know what happened to the second?"

David gripped the steering wheel. "He went back to England."

"And Dr. Hoffman?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe she went with Barnabas."

They became silent while approaching Collinwood. David parked the car, then exited with Jenna. He took the suitcase, which he had bought that day and filled with more clothes and shoes, out of the trunk.

"I've just picked you up at the bus station," he said. "Don't speak unless spoken to; for now, anyway."

"I still don't know why I'm here, David."

"We'll figure it out."

Roger Collins rested his hard gaze on Jenna, his voice a low purr. "Well, young lady, I hope you have been more successful at Princeton."

Jenna nodded. "My grades are good, but I have yet to declare a major. I'm taking the summer off."

Roger Collins had died when Jenna was two years old, but she had recognized the handsome, stern face and thinning blond hair. He was sitting at the sofa in the drawing room, a drink in his hand. He had spent the day at the cannery, his suit jacket and tie removed.

David and Jenna stood, but Roger commanded the room. Jenna could feel the tension between father and son; she knew Uncle Roger and David had never been close.

"Father," David said, "I asked Jenny to visit me. Is it all right if she stays here?"

"What about a room at the Collinsport Inn?"

"She doesn't have a lot of money."

"I plan to stay for only a few days," Jenna said.

Roger kept his eyes on David. "You know how I feel about young ladies staying here with you."

"A guestroom. We're just friends, Father."

Roger sighed, looking down at his glass. "Do you like little children, Jenny?"

"Yes."

"My nephew Paul is three years old. His mother and grandmother are out of town for a week. I suppose you can help us look after the boy while you are here."

"I'd like that, Mr. Collins."

"He's a very lively boy."

"I'm sure he's adorable."

"He can be. But there are times when he is the devil himself. You'll see."

Collinsport, 2015

"What is your new plan, Sterling?" Dawn asked. "Burn it all down?"

Sterling grinned. "More like a slow burn. I already made my offer and we'll see how greed works."

"You might be surprised. The Collins family isn't known for greed."

"What has your husband told you about the family fortune?"

The two were in Sterling's hotel room. Dawn sat in a chair, her drink in hand. She felt invigorated, like a young woman again. She was eager to exercise her powers.

"All I know," she said, "is that Carolyn is selling almost everything. Except Collinwood, of course."

"She's liquidating assets to hang on to Collinwood. Reminds me of the wealthy families in Europe after World War I; selling the family jewels to hang on to the manor house. Or the mansions on Fifth Avenue that are long gone. The Astors, the Vanderbilts..."

"Times change, Sterling."

"Some things never change. Jenna is now in 1975."

"We failed. She'll come home."

"But I can control what she comes home to..."

Dawn nodded. "All right. What do you have planned for Jenna when she returns?'

"Isolation. Poverty. And self-immolation."

"I'm surprised you haven't become bored with the idea of Jenna Stoddard after forty years."

"It's the thrill of the chase. And don't try to convince me that you had no interest in discovering Barnabas Collins's hiding place the whole time you lived there. Powerless, of course. You married Paul Stoddard because you can't seem to leave those people alone−they're all connected to Barnabas and Collinwood. That's why I called you back."

Dawn sighed. "Sterling, I love Paul."

"You must have searched every inch of that estate. And you gave off the impression that you hated the place." Sterling walked over to the window, looking out at the sunset. "Whatever your motives, Dawn, it is in the past. Jenna is now the least of our problems."

"Someone else?"

"Dr. Julia Hoffman has arrived. I'm not sure what she knows about 1975, but she could find out. Barnabas and Julia were separated for a long time, neither knows what the other was doing. We need to slow her down, even eliminate her."

"Why? She wasn't at Collinwood in '75."

"Professor Stokes and Adam were there. Don't think for a moment that Stokes would not have written down every unusual event that came his way. Why wouldn't he have kept an account for his friends Barnabas and Julia if they should return from their time travels? Julia is going to need help from her friends in this new time. She might be a bit unstable..."

"You want her to become insane?"

"I could do it myself, but your powers have been restored and you know Julia better than me."

"I know exactly what could push her over the edge."

"I'm sure you do."

### Chapter Nine

Julia tried to ignore the stares from Carolyn and Maggie. She sat at the sofa in the board room, taking in the changes at Collinwood.

"2015?" she asked. "And the world didn't end?"

"No," Carolyn said. "The twenty-first century has been full of surprises so far..."

She handed Julia a drink. Maggie remained silent, standing in a corner.

"I'd offer you a cigarette," Carolyn said, "but I was never much of a smoker."

"That's all right. I don't need it."

"We've accepted that you're not a ghost," Maggie said. "Can you explain the rest?"

"I should be dead," Julia said, "but being...or traveling...in other times has slowed the aging process, and I have been gone for a long time."

"Over forty years. Where have you been?"

"I was in 1971. Barnabas and I were separated. We were in a room in the east wing. I think I was given a drug that made me delirious. I was terrified. When it wore off, I left the east wing, looking for anyone. But what I found...was heartbreaking."

Tears came to Julia's eyes, her fingers in a fist at her lips. She took a few deep breaths.

"What happened?" Carolyn asked.

Julia pulled her fingers away. "Everyone was dead! Shot dead! Someone came into Collinwood and killed the whole family. I remember being sick. Then I smelled smoke. I ran out of the house and that's when I found myself at the old greenhouse. You two drove up then..."

"How could any of that happen in 1971? I don't recall any shooting..."

"It could have been a side effect of the drug. To be honest, I think I was hallucinating. Maybe I was given LSD."

"You mean, you're not sure of what you saw?"

"Correct. But I know this is reality. For the moment, at least."

"Julia?" Maggie asked. "How can you live like this?"

"I like to believe it is for a higher purpose. Otherwise, I can't begin to understand why."

"Then Barnabas didn't go to England?"

Julia chose her next words carefully. Even now, she knew better than to reveal too much. "He may have returned and gone on to England..."

"We could try to contact him." Carolyn pulled out her phone.

"I would think you would be more concerned about your granddaughter," Julia said.

Carolyn, on the ride back to Collinwood, had explained the search for Jenna.

"Lucas, my grandson, already called the police," Maggie said. "An officer should be coming."

"Would she have any reason to run away?" Julia asked.

"No," Carolyn said. "She loves Collinwood. She likes being home. Sometimes, too much."

"Then she wouldn't leave unless forced..."

"Right. That's why I'm worried."

"Could it have anything to do with the sale of the cannery?"

"Well, I don't exactly trust Sterling Gift."

"Who?"

Carolyn explained Sterling Gift and his offer to buy the cannery, along with Dawn's arrival.

"I think Jenna took off because of Dawn," Maggie said. "Jenna never could stand her stepmother."

The main door opened. Carolyn rose from her chair and walked to the foyer. Dawn was removing her jacket.

"Any luck at the mall?" Carolyn asked.

"No. And I searched every store. Had Customer Service page her. Nothing. She must be hiding somewhere else." Before Carolyn could stop her, Dawn stepped into the drawing room.

Julia Hoffman had not changed. Time had stopped for the woman, for whatever reasons.

"Hello," Dawn said.

"Hello," Julia replied. "You must be Dawn Stoddard. I was sorry to hear about the fire."

"Thank you. And you are...?"

"I'm Julia Hoffman. A friend of the family."

"Julia is an expert in antiques," Carolyn said. "She is going to help me catalogue Collinwood's antiques for auction."

Julia nodded. "I'm sure there are many buried treasures at Collinwood; things that haven't been seen in years."

Dawn went up to her room. She looked in the mirror, seeing Dawn's face, not Angelique's.

They would all remember my face, she thought. How could they forget me? Maggie would recognize me as the witch who made her fall for Quentin. Carolyn would recall me as Cassandra and the Angelique who lived at Collinwood when she married Jeb Hawkes. If I came to this town with my real face, I'd end up dead.

She sat at her bed, trying to relax. She would wait until everyone was preoccupied with the police, then she would walk over to the old house. She was sure that the things she needed for her spell would be there, in the walls.

Dawn passed the patrol car in the driveway as she walked. She had stopped and spoken to the officer before leaving the house. Carolyn was almost in tears, her anxiety building as darkness descended.

Dawn, as she approached the old house, was dismayed by the condition of the columns, roof, and porch. Centuries ago, she had considered this house hers, as Barnabas's wife. If she entered the house, the roof or flooring could cave in on her. But Dawn could not be discouraged; she needed to get reacquainted with her powers, to use some of her best tools.

She was not surprised to find a padlock on the front door. Her first chance. She raised her hands, making the lock disappear. She pushed the rotting door in, the hinges half-hanging. She recognized the windows as later additions, along with the carpet and paint. This place had seen many incarnations; other couples, other loves, other children.

Time stops for no one, Dawn thought. Not even for Sterling or me.

Barnabas was hiding from time. She had spent three years at Collinwood as Paul Stoddard's wife; powerless, searching Collinwood and the grounds for a sign of Barnabas. She could only do this when she would be unnoticed, realizing well before that Barnabas's location had been changed by David at some time. His only recent visit had been when Rebecca disappeared, but Dawn knew to leave David alone. He would start asking questions and might even come home. Dawn did not want too much family around.

The foyer of the old house was moldy. She looked up at the ceiling, water stains creating their own clouds, cracks letting in the wind. The stairs to the second story were in shambles. She stepped carefully until she found the entrance to the cellar through the rotting kitchen.

Dawn encountered black mold and some small mushrooms growing on the cellar walls as she stepped down to the dirt floor. A rat scurried past her feet. She regretted not wearing gloves as she searched the walls for the loose brick close to the floor. She smiled at the memory of Barnabas sealing the Reverend Trask, the witch-hunter, behind a brick wall. Her practical, gentle Barnabas showed his dark side, although the vampire curse had made him act on his rage. Who did she love more? The real man or the monster she helped create? Dawn had thought about it for centuries, but she always found herself back at Collinwood, searching for a love, a passion, that meant more than freedom or forgiveness.

She found the loose brick, covered in slime. She gave it a good pull, the wide crack revealed. Dawn eased the small leather-bound tome out of the hole.

Dawn, while Angelique's incarnation as a vampire controlled by Nicholas Blair, had managed to remember and write down some of her old spells when she was left alone, which was often; she had lived in a house owned by Blair. He was frequently gone, courting Maggie Evans.

The leather had protected the pages. Dawn saw a few grooves where rats or mice had attempted to chew, some water damage. She gently opened the cover, and her eyes scanned her own handwriting in French, her rough sketches. She had written these things down in the dim light, hiding the diary in her coffin, but later hid the book in the cellar of the old house around the time Nicholas proposed to Maggie. Soon, Angelique and Nicholas would be sent back to Hell.

Dawn smiled down at the yellowed pages; the incantations and lists of materials for her altars. Oh, the dolls she could use now! The most amazing toys, things she could not imagine in her childhood in Martinique, when her dolls were made of sticks, later wax.

Dawn shut the book and placed it in her coat pocket. A bigger search for Jenna was inevitable. Paul had explained the circus that ensued from law enforcement and the media at Collinwood after Rebecca's disappearance.

None of them can guess, Dawn thought, even after what Maggie and Carolyn both experienced at Collinwood. They shut their eyes to it after they had children.

Dawn maneuvered the crumbling steps back up to the kitchen. She departed through the front door, not bothering to shut it behind her.

Maggie, with Julia next to her, cruised her car up to the drive to Adam's cottage.

"Most of Professor Stokes's papers and journals were donated to the library," Maggie said, "but Adam told Carolyn later that he kept some, including a few personal things."

"Have you ever seen these things?" Julia asked.

"No. But I'm sure the stuff is in the cottage somewhere."

"Adam was alone all these years; you and Carolyn were his only friends..."

"Adam was independent. He thought the best way to stay out of trouble was to keep to himself."

"The police interest wore off?" Julia asked.

"They couldn't prove he killed Eve. They had no way of finding her identity, she had kept a low profile at Nicholas Blair's house. I had no idea until Carolyn told me."

"Adam told her everything?"

"About him, yes."

Maggie parked her car and they walked into the cottage. Maggie turned on the lights.

"What did you do with your father's art?" Julia asked.

"Sold some of it. Put the rest in storage."

Maggie gestured to the sofa. "Adam became quite an artist himself. We put his stuff in my old room until Carolyn decides what to do with it."

"The journals?"

"In Pop's room. I mean, Adam's room."

The notebooks, letters, and unpublished papers were found in a cardboard box in the closet, hidden behind clothes and fishing poles. Maggie brought the box out to Julia, placing it on the end table.

"I was surprised the Collinsport Library would want any of the professor's writing," Maggie said. "His subjects were unusual. He was a bit ahead of his time. What are you looking for, Julia?"

"I'm hoping that Eliot knew what Barnabas was doing while we were separated," Julia said. "What experiences he had..."

Julia had explained to Carolyn and Maggie that Barnabas had moved to England after returning from the past; this fabrication allowed Julia to keep the real reasons to herself.

I need to know if he is dead or alive _,_ Julia thought _._ If he remained human or was cursed again.

Dawn pulled together her needed tools for her spell and chose the abandoned Rose Cottage as her location.

She lit a series of candles, placed in a circle on the old rug. She turned off her mini flashlight, the candles illuminating the foyer.

Inside the circle, she placed a bouquet of flowers, along with a bottle of wine and a platter of fruit. From her purse, she pulled out a found relic that belonged to Barnabas-a hairbrush she had found in his room in the old house. She took some hairs from between the soft bristles. She brought the brush to her nose, taking in the very faint scent of his hair.

Why am I such a fool? she thought. Why did I love him? I can't even remember who I was before I met Barnabas.

The anger shifted to bitterness, dissolving into despair. However, using her powers felt good.

Dawn sat on the rug outside of the candles. She opened her little book of shadows, finding the right spell.

"Hecate...your faithful servant Angelique calls to you..."

If Hecate chose not to show, she would have to call on friends from darker places, entities even Nicholas Blair would not play with.

Dawn went into a meditative state while waiting on her goddess. The sound of glass cracking made her eyes open. She was in time to see the flowers wilt, the fruit turn brown and rot in seconds, the cheap chardonnay all over the floor, under the candles.

Not any of my goddesses, Dawn thought. No goddess at all...

The candle flames flickered, then went out. Dawn stood for a moment in the dark. Just as she was reaching for her flashlight, a mass of light, like a tiny cloud, was hovering inside the circle. Dawn shook her head, trying to figure out this strange energy.

"Angelique...little angel..."

Where had she heard that voice before? Then she knew:

"Drago." She said his name again, louder. "Drago!"

Dawn took in the sulfur smell, the sign of a demon.

"Did Sterling send you?" she asked.

Drago was rarely seen in his own form and, as Dawn watched, the light stretched in different directions until she saw a figure before her, and the vision made her almost breathless.

"Your goddesses have abandoned you, witch."

The face, body, and voice belonged to Barnabas Collins. His clothes looked as if from the early 1970s, his long coat and cane. His bangs were close to his forehead, his gaze black and hard, the lips twisted in an enigmatic smile.

"Do you like my form?" the demon asked.

"Yes. Yes, I do! Thank you, Drago. Did Sterling send you?"

"Does it matter?"

Dawn felt her face flush, a warmth spread through her.

"How can I serve you?" Drago asked.

"I need you to drive a woman mad."

"Who is this woman?"

"Julia Hoffman."

The demon Barnabas threw his head back and laughed. "I should have guessed. The vampire's hag, back from the past. How shall I make her snap?"

"She doesn't know where Barnabas is, either. She's worried about him..."

"I will use this worry. I will find her presence."

Drago's energy collapsed from Barnabas's image to a ball of red light. This glowing ball pitched itself and hit Dawn right in the chest, her body taking in the demon's energy through her skin, blood, limbs, and brain. The blood rushed, nerves tingling, the pleasure making her eyes widen. She staggered, then fell to the rotting floor. She heard the walls shake as Drago exited Rose Cottage on his own.

Dawn rose from her hands and knees, catching her breath. She followed Drago, running behind him through the open doorway.

Her gaze caught the red light, watching the energy fly between trees, bounce on the ground, but keeping a steady pace. Dawn giggled as she ran, taking deep breaths to keep up. The night was cool and calm, the moon a crescent in a sky ablaze with stars. But Dawn could only see the magic in front of her, of the shapeshifting entity that had left the grounds of Collinwood, heading for Adam's cottage.

### Chapter Ten

Maggie had returned to Collinwood, leaving Julia alone.

Julia tried not to think of Adam as her eyes scanned the pages of each notebook and journal, the pile spread next to her on the sofa. As she took in Professor T. Eliot Stokes's swirling handwriting, she realized that this research, and various experiments, could never have been published if Stokes had wanted to remain being taken seriously in academic circles.

Maybe Adam wanted to protect Stokes's reputation, Julia thought, so he hid the writing on the more arcane subjects.

Julia took a break, rubbing her eyes. She needed some time to adjust to her new reality.

I tried to stay calm, she thought. I don't want Carolyn and Maggie to know the details. Maggie had been shot in the head, Carolyn on her bedroom floor, blood on the walls. So violent, so senseless.

The coffee was ready, all she had to do was walk to the kitchen. She rose off the sofa when she felt someone behind her.

"Julia?"

The voice sent a shiver through her. She turned.

Barnabas. He looked just as he did in 1971. The same coat, his cane.

"Why are you here, Julia? Why did you come back?"

Julia's mouth and throat had turned dry, but she managed to speak. "I'm here to help the family..."

"Because of your meddling, they are dead in parallel time and they will die in this time. You should have had your _own_ life, Julia!"

" _You_ became my life!" She could not believe what she had just said, but she was tired and emotional.

"Not anymore. I am dead, my body rotting. Go away, Julia. Leave Collinsport."

Julia blinked away the tears. When she sniffled, she took in the faint smell of sulfur. She had encountered enough ghosts-angry or otherwise-to know that a restless spirit did not bring that odor.

Julia took a step back. The room did not feel cold. The tears ran down her cheeks, but she focused on Barnabas's face. His eyes were different. Brown to black with flecks of green.

"You are not Barnabas Collins," she said.

He came closer, his steps making no sound. "Leave..."

"W-what if I don't?"

"I will drive you mad. Raise another army of the dead to destroy this family, this town. Just to watch it all burn."

He chuckled softly, his image starting to fade, then disappeared.

Julia took a deep breath, wiping her wet cheeks with her fingers. She almost jumped when she heard a knock at the door. Her legs were shaking, but she managed to pull back the lock, letting Lucas Evans enter.

He introduced himself, a plastic bag in his hand. "Grandma said you hadn't eaten. I brought you a sandwich from the deli. They're out looking for Jenna. I have to get back."

"Can you take me with you? I think I'll take this box back to Collinwood."

"That's fine. I can take the box."

Lucas took everything back to his truck. Julia followed, relieved to get away from the sulfur smell. She wondered if Lucas had also caught the odor of something burning.

Julia was eager to get to her guest room upstairs at Collinwood.

A large group of employees from the cannery had volunteered to help search for Jenna on their own time. Carolyn and Maggie had returned outside. The police were finally involved; Carolyn having to use her influence as a Collins to get them to respond sooner. She reasoned the Collinsport PD would feel rather useless when half the town was already searching for Jenna.

Julia wanted to help, but she needed to be alone for a while. She walked up the stairs to the hallway. She heard a door shut, the sound making her look up.

Dawn was standing there, staring. "Hello."

"Hello, Dawn. Joining in the search?"

Julia looked a bit pale, but hardly on the edge of a breakdown.

"Yes," Dawn replied. "Are you?"

"In a while. I thought I'd take a short nap." Julia reached for the doorknob, then turned back at Dawn. "Do you know where Jenna could be?"

Dawn shook her head. "I haven't spoken to Jenna in so long, I really have no idea where she would run. If she wanted to avoid me, there's easier ways of doing that than worrying her grandmother sick..."

Julia looked into Dawn's eyes; so clear, Julia could almost see her reflection. But Dawn's sweetness was too heavy, her arrogance just below the surface. For a moment, Julia was reminded of someone else, and could feel her stomach sinking.

"Do you have a phone?" Dawn asked.

"What?"

"A cell phone."

"No. I don't."

"Then make sure you're with other people out there on the grounds. You don't want to get lost in the dark."

Collinsport, 1975

"Evel Neevil!"

Jenna looked up the staircase and watched the plastic toy motorbike, wound up at its little red base, Evel Knievel doll as rider, jump over a few steps before toppling.

"Oh, no!" Little Paul Stoddard stepped down, wearing his pajamas, curly blond hair damp from his bath. "Evel went down!"

Roger called from upstairs. "Paul, it's time for bed."

"Read to me, Uncle!" Paul bounded up the stairs, his toy momentarily forgotten.

"He loves Evel Knievel," David said. He picked the toy up from the floor, at the foot of the stairs. "The only thing he likes more are bedtime stories with Father. When I was little, Father didn't read to me, my mother did. And Aunt Elizabeth."

"Are you jealous?" Jenna regretted the words as soon as she said them. "Oh, David, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Maybe you're right. Father does pay more attention to Paul then he did me at that age. I was just a problem to solve."

"What about your mother?'

"What about her? I was told she died in a fire, but that's not what I saw and heard. She _disappeared_ in the flames. Everyone said I was imagining things."

"Does your father know?"

"Yes. But we never talk about it. I can talk to Professor Stokes, though. Would you like to meet him?"

"Yes! Very much."

"All right. I'll take you tomorrow. Adam will be there, too." David set the Evel Knievel doll and cycle on the foyer table, next to the phone. "You're going to learn a lot, Cousin Jenna."

The front desk clerk at the Collinsport Inn was taken aback by a guest checking in so late at night.

The guest, a tall handsome fellow, with long hair and pale eyes, was dressed in a red turtleneck sweater and tweed jacket. He placed a pet carrier on the counter. "I have a cat with me..."

The clerk shrugged. "As long as the kitty stays in her carrier..."

"Of course."

The guest signed his name in the book, took his room key and cat. He walked up the stairs to his room. The clerk looked down at the book, taking in the neat handwriting of the new guest:

Sterling Grace.

Sterling opened the carrier, the calico with green eyes stepping out. Before she could say 'meow', she transformed into Angelique, now on the sofa, wearing her long blue dress.

"I shouldn't have to tell you," Sterling said, "but you stay in this room. Don't get any ideas about running off to Collinwood without telling me."

"Of course not. But what will you have me do?"

"I'll let you know. But a cat can hide almost anywhere, and I will need you soon. In the meantime, I'm going to make the acquaintance of Jenna Stoddard. She's there with Roger and David and little Paul. Easy pickings."

"You plan to kill the child, don't you?"

Sterling opened a small case, taking out an expensive camera. "Not directly. Has a cat ever caused a child to trip? Or maybe the child would follow the cat to a dangerous place? Who knows what can happen to an unsupervised three-year-old?"

Angelique sighed, straightening her long skirt. "You're always making plans, Sterling..."

He held the camera up to her, as if to take a picture. "No rest for the wicked, my dear."

Jenna had spent a sleepless night at Collinwood, tossing and turning in a guest room, wearing the pajamas David had bought her.

I am home, but I am a stranger, she thought. How did this happen? Why? How can I let grandmother know I am safe? She's going to be so worried.

She watched dawn arrive, soft daylight on the dark paneled walls. She had been amused by the olive−green shag carpeting and the burnt−orange shade of the drapes. She found the combination ugly but also comforting, making her feel that home was only a breath away.

Jenna decided to get out of bed. She dressed and went downstairs. The house was quiet, everyone still sleeping. She put her new boots on and stepped outside.

The dawn was cool and smelled like lilacs. Jenna started out towards the old gazebo.

Her father once told her he and Rebecca used to sneak off to the gazebo at night in the summertime. She was still trying to reconcile the lively little boy with the man who was her father, along with the fear and anxiety of being forty years into the past.

She took a few more steps, lost in thought, when she heard a clicking noise.

He had his back to her, camera up, taking a photograph of one of the oldest trees at Collinwood, a stately elm. The tall man turned around, Jenna only steps away from him.

She would recall later that she ceased to become aware of anything else, sound or sight. Her body became enveloped in warmth, but she also trembled, goosebumps on her arms. She saw dreams in the man's pale gaze, making her stay still, feet stuck in the damp earth.

He smiled, a gap in his upper front teeth "Good morning."

"Hello."

"I don't mean to trespass, but I've been wanting to take pictures of the grounds at Collinwood for years. I'm a free−lance photographer. Do you live at Collinwood?"

"I'm just a guest. A friend of David Collins."

"What is your name?"

"Jenny Baker."

"I'm Sterling. Sterling Grace."

He looked to be ten years her senior, at least. He wore a long−sleeved, black T−shirt and jeans, his long fair hair loose. There was something boyish and energetic about him, but not immature.

"Do you always get up this early to take pictures?" Jenna asked.

"Just for the sunrise sometimes."

"I couldn't sleep."

He pointed to the great house. "That place haunted?"

She chuckled. "Yes, the house and the grounds are haunted. Well, that's what David told me."

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"No. Just friends. From college."

"What college?"

"Princeton."

"What is your major?"

"I don't have one yet."

Sterling came a few steps closer. He was careful; the girl was like a young doe, except her eyes were blue. She was so familiar, and when the memory surfaced, he stepped back.

"What's wrong?" Jenna asked.

"Nothing. I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Let me take you to the diner in the Collinsport Inn."

"I don't know..."

"You can trust me. For one thing, I don't have a car, so we would have to walk. I figure you know your way around Collinsport better than me."

Angelique was in the room she shared with Sterling at the Collinsport Inn. She dozed in bed, following Sterling's orders not to stray, although he had said nothing about 'connecting' to him. She had attached her consciousness to his, but he would soon figure it out, so she would have to be careful.

She had followed him to Collinwood and his 'surprise' meeting with Jenny Baker. But the girl was someone else, her energy almost throwing off Angelique's will, surrounded by a light that attracted and frightened the gifted witch.

A strong light, Angelique thought. The girl has brought her own power. Oh, Sterling, you are very fortunate because this girl doesn't know what she can do.

_Who is she_?

Angelique sat up in bed, a grin on her face. She giggled.

Sterling is clever, she thought, but he's no match against one of God's own. However, if the girl remains ignorant, Sterling still has a chance, as do I.

### Chapter Eleven

Collinsport, 2015

The people of Collinsport could be found, if not in their homes or working at the cannery, on the grounds of Collinwood, searching for Jenna Stoddard.

A bearded man remained separate from the others, thinking about how he was going to introduce himself. He looked out at the great house, resembling a gothic French manor in the countryside. The full moon aided the searchers, the weather humid, but cool.

The nighttime scents haven't changed, he thought. I am home again...whether I like it or not.

Quentin Collins kept up on the actions of his family in Collinsport. He found a brief report of Jenna's disappearance on the internet. Before the story could start to spread all over the country, he decided to leave his home in Vancouver and return to Collinwood.

He kept his head down, baseball cap covering his thick brown hair. He could blend in easily with the search party, avoiding his cousin Carolyn and old friends like Maggie Evans. The thought of them made him sigh.

Forty years away. There had been other women and friends, but he was always separate, no real confidants except Barnabas and Julia. He had not met others like himself in his travels and, if he did, he could not expect those people to confide in him or anyone else.

He walked past the other searchers, who were holding flashlights and walking sticks.

"Do you know how many acres our group is covering?"

The voice sounded familiar. Quentin turned his head.

The speaker also sported a short beard, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Hiking boots on his feet. A low brow covered a dark gaze.

"Gerry, the Johnsons are organizing things. Let's ask them where they want us to go."

Her voice. Quentin took a deep breath and turned around.

She was there, walking towards Gerry. Her dark hair was straight and shiny. Her big brown eyes were behind a pair of glasses. Fine lines surrounded her eyes and mouth, but her smile remained innocent.

She was a ghost from the past, he thought. But here she is...

"Matt Johnson," Gerry said, "probably brought a cooler full of beer. He'll be too drunk."

"Keep your voice down."

Gerry had raised his head and Quentin, just steps away, almost laughed out loud.

Gerry's shirt was a vintage Rolling Stones tour T. The sleeve was pulled up, showing off a tattoo of a joker playing card.

More proof for reincarnation, Quentin thought.

Quentin was not able to step away before the present Daphne approached him.

"Hello," she said.

Quentin smiled and nodded. She walked past him to Gerry.

"The girls are already waiting at Rose Cottage," she said. "They'll probably take off with Lucas Evans."

"I feel bad for _him_."

"Well, they can't get on your nerves, then."

The couple walked off, leaving Quentin a bit perplexed. He stood still for a few minutes, then resumed his walk to the great house.

Quentin could have let himself in, the main doors were unlocked and cracked open. He noticed the changes, including the security guard and gate. But, with the search, Mr. Mays was letting everyone through.

Quentin removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. His appearance looked modern enough, they would believe him.

Before he could raise his hand to knock at the heavy wood, the doors swung open.

Carolyn, wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. Her gaze froze on him, taking in his face, the hair and thick brows above the pale, compelling eyes.

She blinked, then smiled. "Quentin..."

"No. I'm James Collins. Quentin is my father."

Carolyn sighed. "I didn't know my cousin had children."

"Oh, yes. I was born in Canada. May I come in?"

"Oh, absolutely! I mean, you are _definitely_ Quentin's son..."

He tried not to stare as he entered the foyer. "You can call me Jim. I was going to Boston when Dad asked me to check in after he heard about your granddaughter's disappearance."

"That was very thoughtful of Quentin. How is he?"

"He is well. Would it be all right if I helped search?"

"Of course. Thank you." She grinned, shaking her head, pushing her bangs away from her forehead. "I can't get over the resemblance..."

He smiled, taking in how well Carolyn had aged. "I just wish my visit could have been at a better time."

"You can stay here," Carolyn said.

"I don't want to impose."

"Please. Do you have any luggage?"

"Not much. Just a few bags in my rental. I parked it outside of the gate."

"You can bring it all up to the house later. I'll introduce you to Matt Johnson. He's helping me organize things."

Quentin respected how well Carolyn was handling the situation. However, she had the last forty years to mature, no longer the naïve, trusting young woman looking for romance around every corner. Now, she was more like her mother, concerned with business and Collinwood.

Elizabeth provided an excellent example, Quentin thought. Protect the family, protect the legacy.

"I was touched to see how the community has become involved," Quentin said.

"Yes. They did the same when Jenna's mother disappeared. That's what makes this so strange. And I can't help but feel both are connected. Stranger things have happened at Collinwood. I'm sure your father has told you."

The main door opened, Maggie entering with Lucas. Carolyn, while Maggie stared open-mouthed, made the introductions.

"Quentin−I mean, Jim−would like to help with the search. Lucas, could you take his bags to the room next to Julia's?"

Quentin was taken aback by Julia's name. "You have another guest?"

Carolyn glanced at Maggie, who had managed to shut her mouth. "Julia Hoffman is a friend of the family."

"Where are your bags?" Lucas asked.

"I can deal with my bags later," Quentin said. "You two, I'm sure, are busy with the search. I'll get out there as soon as I can."

They were stepping out when Julia came down the stairs. She was dressed in a modern blouse and pants, but there was no mistaking Julia Hoffman. She glanced at Quentin, then looked away. He suppressed a smile.

Quentin would have to admit that he just wanted a chance to seek out the woman who so strongly resembled Daphne.

The night had become cold, the searchers now wearing heavy jackets and sweaters.

"Do you have a charger?"

He turned around to see young Emma Stiles, in a hoodie and yoga pants. She held an iPhone in her hand.

The cell phone. Quentin owned one, but only used it occasionally. He had become dismayed to realize that something that had been invented to make life easier had become such a dependency.

"No, I don't have a charger," Quentin said. "Are you one of Jenna's friends?"

Emma's eyes did not leave the phone's screen. "My sister Kim was in her class. So was Lucas. I'm helping them search."

"Emma!"

Quentin followed the sound. Daphne was approaching. "Put that phone away and get out there."

Emma sighed. "You know what, Mom? I don't think Jenna is even here." She put her phone in an inside pocket. "She's far away, just like you said."

"How far away?" Quentin asked.

Daphne shrugged. "Just a feeling I had..." She stopped and regarded him for a moment. "I'm Daphne Stiles. This is my daughter, Emma."

"Hello. I'm Qu-James Collins."

"A Collins relative?""

"Yes. I'm a cousin. Come to help the family."

"I'm sorry about Jenna. She's a sweet girl, but she and my other daughter Kim weren't really friends. Em, get that smirk off your face."

"Sorry, Mom."

Daphne turned back to Quentin "Do you know that woman with the red hair? The one staying close to Carolyn Stoddard?"

"You mean, Julia Hoffman?"

"Yes. Is she new in town, too?"

"You could say that."

"Could you introduce me to her? I'm picking up a strong feeling from her..."

"A feeling?"

"I'm psychic, Jim. I tried to help when Jenna's mother Rebecca disappeared years ago. I told everyone she was still alive, but no one believed me. But maybe they were right."

"I can take you to meet Julia. I'm sure Carolyn will be grateful for your input."

"Do you believe in psychics?"

"I believe in many things."

He found Daphne and Emma staring at him. He smiled. "Let's find Julia. I'm sure she hasn't gone far."

Emma followed her mother and the mysterious man to the gazebo, where Tony Peterson had joined Lucas.

Quentin never had the pleasure of meeting Tony, but the resemblance to Reverend Trask did not go unnoticed, but since he had also seen lookalikes of Gerard and Daphne, he was not fazed.

Carolyn was talking on her phone, Julia and Maggie close by. Tony was sitting at the bench with Lucas.

"The police have brought their dogs," Tony said. "I can bet you she's not here, someone took her..."

"Grandpa, don't say that to Ms. Stoddard."

"I don't mean to sound unkind, but you know that girl. She's never far from home."

Carolyn put her phone in her bag. "There's tips coming in as far as Boston. But she would never run away."

"So, you agree with me?" Tony asked.

"I don't know what to believe. But if I don't do something, I'll go crazy. My knees hurt too much to walk. I'll use the golf cart."

"I'll go with you."

"Thank you, Tony."

Quentin missed his introduction to Tony, but Julia was already watching him, walking next to a woman who strongly resembled Daphne Harridge.

"Julia," Quentin said, "have you met Daphne Stiles?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven't..."

Daphne smiled. "Hello. My husband works at the cannery. I don't know if you believe, but I'm psychic, and I felt like I needed to talk to you."

"Yes?"

"I feel as if...you're out of place, out of time. I have that feeling around people sometimes, as if they should have been born in another time. Old souls."

Julia nodded. "I know what you mean, Daphne. But I've been friends with the family for years. I like studying history, so maybe I just seem...antiquated."

"I'm afraid," Daphne said, "that Jenna will have to find her own way back. I felt the same way about her mother. But Jenna won't be the same."

The four adults did not notice the calico cat far up in the old oak tree. She had been there for a while, taking in every word. The man who resembled Quentin Collins was not lost on her.

He's come home, she thought.

Sterling would be coming around offering to help search. He had ordered Dawn to use her cat form, reporting to him everything she saw and heard.

"I once had a friend," Daphne said, "who claimed she had traveled back in time. She also had a history of mental illness, spending some time at Windcliff. But there were things she would tell me, little details, that made me almost believe her. The only way she could get out of Windcliff was to admit she was making up her experience in the French and Indian War. But she still believed it. She had gone through some doorway in time, was in Collinsport in the 1700s. What felt like weeks was only minutes in this time. She found herself inside her car, parked on the side of the road..."

"That's fascinating," Julia said. "Where is your friend now?"

"I was told she moved to New Mexico. But the news was second hand, from her brother. I think her family had her institutionalized out of state."

"You don't think she went back in time again?" Quentin asked.

"I would like to think so," Daphne said. "Maybe she met a handsome soldier or an Indian brave. But that's just the imagination of a bored housewife."

"Sometimes our imaginations can teach us something about ourselves," Julia said. "Things that we are afraid to face directly can appear in creative expression. What I know about psychics is that they sometimes see symbols and or have a feeling they can't easily explain."

Dawn was growing bored in the tree. She could tell that Daphne Stiles was psychic and the woman seemed to be getting closer to the truth about Jenna. But Dawn's interest had drifted to Lucas Evans, who was harboring a secret of his own.

I wonder if his grandmother knows, Dawn thought.

The cat came down from the tree, leaves and branches rustling. No one paid attention to the white spotted cat as she dashed from the gazebo towards the woods. The cat looked up at the night sky, the moon waxing full.

Lucas Evans would be looking for a place to transform alone.

If the boy is smart, she thought, he won't stay on the grounds. I wonder if this is his first transformation? He will be terrified...

She watched Lucas break into a run, entering the woods, closer to Widow's Hill. The searchers had not hiked that far, and he was looking for a secluded spot. She wondered if he saw a five-pointed star on the face of anyone near.

The cat followed, running up a tree, leaping to the next. The green leaves provided enough shelter but did not obstruct her view of Lucas Evans; young and muscular, he shed his jacket, tucking his cell phone into his jeans pocket. Soon, he was almost naked, placing his clothes behind a rock. He bent over, staggering, the transformation coming from inside first. However, by the way he arranged his clothes, she wondered if this was his first time.

The turning was slow and painful, but Lucas tried not to make a lot of noise. He was now in the mud, in a fetal position, twisting and turning. Lumps appeared underneath his skin. He started convulsing as fine hairs became thick and dark up his back. The bones narrowed in his arms and legs, spine changing shape. The pain was replaced by numbness as the transformation concluded, Lucas's head becoming that of a large wolf.

He was on all fours and making a dash for the shore, looking for a place to hide before any people came near. When the young werewolf departed, the cat left the trees, ready to share the news with Sterling.

### Chapter Twelve

Daphne went alone to find her husband and daughters. Gerry had gone with a group of his co-workers out to the edge of the Collinwood property, along with a few policemen and their dogs. Carolyn and Tony were still out on the golf cart. Maggie had gone home to get some sleep before returning to work in the morning. Fifty or more people were still around, with permission to go into any of the old outbuildings, but only the police allowed to search the great house.

Daphne, flashlight in hand, walked along the path to Widow's Hill. She had already used her phone to contact Kimber, who had gone that way with Lucas Evans. Emma had wandered off with Claire Johnson, accompanying her father Matt, already intoxicated from the cache of beer chilling in his truck. Matt had been happy to share with the others, although most had abstained, including the Collinsport PD, but many local men had brought guns with them for no good reason.

Quentin had gone off with Julia Hoffman, much to Daphne's relief. She had a heavy feeling around Julia, a cloud covered her aura, as if from trauma. Quentin, however, had an aura thick with fog.

He is a phantom in the flesh, she thought.

Daphne stopped when she realized she had gone too far, almost to the cliffs. She looked out at the crashing waves. She then checked her watch. Almost midnight. She could try her phone again, but chose to communicate the old−fashioned way:

"Kimber! Where are you?"

No answer except the crickets and other night noises. She was turning around when she heard a low growl, as if from a dog. Daphne kept walking away from the cliffs, not concerned about a stray.

"Kimber, come on! Time to go home!"

She was stepping into the trees when she heard the dog behind her. She turned around, expecting a shaggy retriever, but her flashlight revealed something else.

Daphne had seen a wolf only a few times in her life, but this creature was bigger. The hair was thick and stood up at the back. The ears were enormous and pulled back, the forehead wrinkled. The snout was long, the nose almost round. Another growl revealed long while teeth. The jaws snapped. But the wolf's eyes, black and wet, conveyed fear and confusion.

Daphne took a few steps back, then slowly turned around. She hoped the wolf would get bored and leave her alone. She was scared; her legs felt heavy, her head was pounding, hands shaking. Daphne had faced ghosts and other angry spirits, but an entity could not tear her apart like a large wolf.

"Mom!"

Kimber. Her voice was far off, but Daphne followed the sound, the light in front of her. She did not look back to see if the wolf was following. She quickened her step, then started running. Her foot caught in a thicket of weeds, the ankle twisting hard. She was sure she could hear it snap. The pain spread through her foot as she fell. The flashlight fell out of her hand, rolling on the ground.

"Mom!"

"Over here, Kim!"

Kimber, accompanied by two school friends, found her shivering mother on the ground. Her ankle was broken, so an ambulance was called. Kimber and her friends did not notice the big paw prints on the ground.

Daphne had recognized something in the eyes of the wolf. For a moment, she was reminded of Lucas Evans, although she was unsure why. Later, she would wonder where he had been while she was so near the cliffs.

Dawn snuggled nude in her bed at Collinwood while on the phone with Sterling.

"You didn't come around for the search," she said.

"I thought I'd wait until tomorrow; visit at Collinwood, express my concern to Carolyn..."

"The psychic mentioned some kind of doorway through time."

"There are many, including Cousin Quentin's staircase."

"There's a werewolf in Collinsport, too."

"Isn't there always? I love places like Collinsport because they never change. The curses just move to the next generation."

"This generation is different, Sterling. In some ways, they're smarter."

"But not as skilled. They're all over the place; little self-discipline, no originality. Anyway, my mind has been on the cannery."

"Burn it down."

Sterling chuckled. "Not so fast."

"You're just hurt because Carolyn denied your offer. She thinks you're a con artist."

"She's right. But I don't have to back down..."

Dawn shivered underneath her blanket. Sterling did not care who he hurt, not even Jenna Stoddard. He may have gotten over her; if so, he wouldn't think twice of destroying her future when she returned from the past.

"What is your Plan B?" Dawn asked.

"I'm not sure, but my basic idea is to create events that will speed up the sale, then Carolyn will have to take the highest offer or end up ruined. Then I own everything."

"But she doesn't trust you."

"I can create some bona fides and a bogus website right away. Actually, I should have done that first."

"Big business is complicated."

"And boring. But I'll have it all together by morning. You rest, my pet."

They said their goodbyes for the night. Dawn heard a few doors open and shut in the hallway. She had drifted off to sleep but was soon awakened by the shaking of the mattress. Her eyes opened in the dark, just in time to see the shape of a man's head and shoulders at the foot of the bed. The demon in Barnabas's form. She watched him slide under her blanket.

She felt the whisper of his breath against her bare legs. Gentle hands up her thighs. She stayed silent as she felt his energy under her skin, inside her breasts and neck. He moved down her belly, between her legs. She arched her back, hoping no one heard her moan. She was hot all over, the blood rushing, the stroking and gentle pounding, then going deep, into a core no man had reached for her. She thrust against it, then almost fainted as the crashing pleasure took her breath away. After Drago departed, leaving the trace smell of sulfur, Dawn dreamed Angelique's dreams of diving into the warm waters by her childhood home in Martinique. Before it all; the witchcraft, Barnabas, the curses she put into action. She had been happy, even if she had been poor and fatherless. She tried later to fill the hole the guilt and shame had caused, being made aware of her social stigma as she got older. She had been beautiful and gifted, hadn't she deserved so much more than being a ladies' maid? She had to look past her girlish dreams to see the truth; Barnabas could not willingly share a life with her.

Dawn woke up in the dark to the sound of rain pattering against the windows and roof. She thought about Sterling's plans to destroy the Collins family's wealth. How he hated them all, causing tragedy and ruin for no other reason than boredom. He had boasted of causing the assassinations of great men. Kidnappings and murders. He watched Hitler, hiding in the bunker, put the gun to his head while he wept. So many others, centuries before. The Fall of the Roman Empire. The Black Plague. The Russian pogroms.

Dawn gathered her blanket closer, wondering if she was truly willing to go as far as Sterling wanted. If he detected any hesitation, she could lose her powers. She would have to go back to Paul and their life in California, go back to hiding. She had pursued him and loved him, although Paul being a Stoddard, an heir to Collinwood, was no coincidence.

Dawn did not believe in coincidences.

### Chapter Thirteen

Collinsport, 1975

"You can't just take off when you want to," David said.

"Sorry. You were still asleep," Jenna said. "The diner wasn't open yet. Sterling needed to make some calls, so I walked back alone."

"You shouldn't wander off with strangers."

"He's okay."

"Sterling Grace." David ruminated over the name. Jenna followed him from the foyer to the drawing room. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Did this guy turn on the charm?"

"Sort of. But he didn't make any moves, you know?"

"All right. But strangers don't come around Collinwood very often. We have to be careful."

"Do you think he has something to do with why I'm here?"

"I don't know. Maybe Professor Stokes can help us. But first, I need to tell you about our cousin Barnabas."

"No one else knows he was here. Not even Professor Stokes. I promised Barnabas I wouldn't tell."

Jenna followed David, flashlight in hand, into the secret room in the Collins family crypt. She had watched him pull and turn the chain in the crypt wall that opened the heavy stone door, revealing a dark space. Jenna had been to the crypt many times as a child, but her grandmother had never told her about this room.

"The ancestors originally used this room as a place to hide guns and supplies during the Revolutionary War," David said. "There's other hiding places in the old house. The great house has many, too."

"Barnabas Collins has been dead for over a century and a half," Jenna said.

David shook his head. "You need to know about the curses on our family. I need you to listen to the whole story about Barnabas. You might think I'm crazy, but you will need to defend yourself." He walked over, closing the door, the room completely dark. He shined his flashlight over the walls.

Jenna trusted David, but she shivered under her sweater. "Tell me, David..."

"Barnabas Collins was born around the time of the Revolutionary War..."

Jenna listened in silence, taking in the tale of Barnabas's life at Collinwood and Martinique; the vampire curse put on him by his jealous lover, the witch Angelique. The deaths of Jeremiah and Josette. The other curses; werewolves and the creation of Adam. Time travel. Barnabas returning for the last time, the vampire curse restored, beseeching David to help him hide.

"...and now I expect you to think I'm crazy," David said.

Jenna shook her head. "Not a bit. Is he...suffering?"

"Barnabas slept in this space for over two hundred years before he was awakened by Willie Loomis," David said. "And he's sleeping now."

"And you never told anyone except Adam?"

"Yes. I could have told the Professor, but why trouble him with this? He's not well."

David drove Jenna to Professor Stokes's home after dinner.

Adam had opened the door at David's knock. Jenna tried not to stare at the tall, imposing figure. He mumbled a hello to them both after a quick introduction to Jenna, then sat at a distance, picking up a book.

The professor had been spoken of with respect and affection by Maggie and Carolyn, but Jenna now saw the once broad and muscular build shriveled, his face bloated. He sat in his chair, a cane at his side. He did not rise but smiled as David and Jenna sat on the sofa. "Hello, David! I see you brought a friend."

David introduced Jenna to the professor.

"Do you want me to tell him?" David asked.

Jenna was confused for a moment. She was not to speak of Barnabas, but she had to reveal her secret? In front of Adam as well?

"The professor is very understanding of...the unexplained."

"What is it?" Stokes asked.

"Jenna has come from 2015."

"Forty years into the future?"

"Yes. I'll let Jenna tell her story. It's all right, you can trust him."

"Maybe you can tell me, Professor, why I am here," Jenna said.

She told him she was Carolyn's granddaughter and about Vicki's old dress and how she had ended up in 1975 Collinsport. Professor Stokes did not seem shocked or offended by her story, only nodded his head. She did not mention that David had not seemed surprised by her appearance, that he had been expecting someone from the future.

Judging by the bland expression on his face, she could not tell if the professor thought she was delusional or not.

"I met a woman," Stokes said, "as a graduate student. Lovely young woman. She seemed educated and spoke several different languages. She also claimed to be from the future. From 1993. I was a grad student in the 1930s. She had found herself sixty years into the past. I was referred to her by a friend, a young psychiatrist. She was one of his patients, committed to the psychiatric hospital where my friend was an intern. She told me amazing things. Technology. Medicine. Organ transplants of the kidneys and liver. Even the heart."

"What happened to her?" Jenna asked.

"Strangest thing. She disappeared. Her room was searched. She possibly escaped, but she didn't take any of her few possessions. Only the clothes on her back."

"Did she go home?"

"Maybe. What can you tell me about 2015?"

"Many things. Cell phones. Wireless internet. Information is found easily. Medications can be used to control some cancers and other diseases. There's a rover on Mars. The MIR space station. High-powered telescopes. Some people still want to believe that Pluto is a planet. Some think it's just a big rock, I guess."

The professor threw back his head and laughed. "Adam! Did you hear that? Pluto is no longer a planet in 2015."

Adam shrugged. "How can they tell?"

"I don't know a lot about it," Jenna said, "but you can Google it. Well, no, you can't..."

"What's a Google?" David asked.

"A search engine."

Jenna did her best to explain the internet and the rest of her 2015 world. She continued to thrill the professor and the others with tales of the future until Stokes started to squirm in his chair. "I'm afraid I'm starting to feel tired. My doctor insists I rest often, even though I don't do much anymore."

"That's all right," David said. "We can go."

"But I'm going to look into a way for Jenna to get home."

"Thank you," Jenna said. "But I think I need to figure out why I'm here in the first place. There has to be a reason, right?"

"What do you think that reason is, my dear?"

To protect my father, she thought. "I'll find out."

"Carolyn isn't due back with Aunt Elizabeth until next week," David said. "That gives us time to figure out why you're here."

"What do you think?"

David sat at the wheel of his Corvette, eyes on the road. "My family is cursed. Barnabas knew. Julia Hoffman, too. The professor. Barnabas finally told me about Angelique, the witch. She keeps coming back. Once, as my stepmother Cassandra. One day, she just disappeared. Father said she left him."

"Did you hate her?" Jenna asked.

"Yes."

"I hate my stepmother, too. I spent years wishing she and my dad would get divorced. Before I came here, their house burned down in California. She was coming to stay with us at Collinwood. She won't care that I'm gone..."

"Jenna, they'll be looking for you."

"But what can I do? I don't know how I got here, so how can I leave?"

"Were you surprised that Professor Stokes believed you?" David asked.

"Yes. But I get the impression the professor has seen many strange things. He said the woman in the mental institution disappeared. That's what happened to me back home."

"I can't seem to shake the feeling that Angelique could be back in town," David said. "But, if she were, she couldn't be missed. She has that effect on people..."

"I have a date with Sterling tomorrow night."

David almost slammed on the brakes. "Are you crazy?'

"Listen to me. I think he has something to do with why I'm here. He's charming, but there's something odd about him. I can find out more..."

"If he's anything like Angelique, I don't want you alone with him."

"But how can we know for sure unless I get close enough?"

"Why is he so interested in you, a girl he just met?"

"I've wondered about that, too. I admit, I like being around him. I don't think he would harm me."

"Don't be so sure."

"There's something _different_ about him."

"You think he's not human?"

Jenna nodded. "And he knows I know. But he doesn't care. He stepped up to me, then stepped back, like I startled him. This happened before he asked me to go to the diner with him. He wants something from me, and I feel almost certain he's part of the reason why I'm here."

"Do you believe the girl's story?" Adam asked.

He stood at the threshold of Stokes's bedroom. The professor was sitting up in bed, reading.

"Yes, I do." Stokes removed his reading glasses. "My research on the Leviathans is finally useful for something. Their wretched book mentioned He would come, but I was expecting something that looked like a creature out of H.P. Lovecraft. Instead, he is a charming stranger staying at the Collinsport Inn."

"How did you know?"

"I've seen him before. When the girl at the hospital disappeared, he showed up, claiming to be her brother. But she said she had no family. I believed her, not him. I need you to watch him, Adam."

"Should I be afraid?"

"Be careful. If he is anything like the creatures in the Leviathan book, we're not the only ones who should be afraid, but all of Collinsport."

"What did the Leviathans call this creature?"

"They called him the Star of the Morning. His more common name is Lucifer."

### Chapter Fourteen

I was later told that Professor Stokes burned the Leviathan book, a sort of history/journal that came into Barnabas's possession after he came back from 1897. I saw the book once, but I couldn't comprehend much of it, although the book managed to put us all under a spell. The Leviathans had their own spoken and written language, some of the pages having crumbled into pieces, the paper more like some strange parchment, the cover and spine newer than the pages. The professor explained that the pages must have been bound some other way for centuries, then put in a modern volume later. Also, the Leviathans could have existed for centuries before developing a written language, so much could have been lost in time.

How can I explain the Leviathans? I was approached by a one, a friendly young male, in Boston just a few years ago. His ancestors existed thousands of years before man. They look human, behave as humans. However, their faith is pagan, their behavior at times demonic. Nicholas Blair tried to claim them as his own, but I was never so sure. And what could be their connection to Sterling? Only that they knew he existed and was identified in their book as Lucifer, the Morning Star. He is only referred to again in the Bible, by the same name.

I never saw Sterling Grace do anything extraordinary except make trouble for my family. He tried to charm Jenna, who should have known better. I was taught that Lucifer, as the Devil, is a liar, seducer, and destroyer. I didn't know to be afraid of Sterling at first. But when I looked into his eyes, when he would lose his charm, I saw only coldness and selfishness; worse yet, an absence of humanity. I think the Leviathans were afraid of him because he has the strength to keep coming back, and probably considered the Leviathan race as insignificant, obsolete as dinosaurs. But many of them are still walking around, waiting for the rest of us to catch up.

Collinsport, 1975

Sterling looked across the table at Jenna's young face. In candlelight, he saw memories that left him momentarily speechless.

She has no idea, he thought. She is so innocent; it seems unfair, even to me, to take it all away.

"Do you travel a lot for your photography?" Jenna asked.

"Yes. I returned from Vietnam a few years ago. I spent most of my time with the Medavac crews, taking photos of the wounded soldiers," Sterling said.

"Did you serve?"

"No. And nobody won, if you ask me."

Jenna thought of the long conflict, in her time, in the Middle East. "And there's always another. Makes you wish the meek would finally inherit the earth."

Sterling chuckled. "I keep waiting for that..."

"What do you mean?"

The waitress brought their dinner. When she walked away, Sterling said," I just meant that I'm waiting for the day the meek do inherit..."

Jenna cut into her prime rib, already knowing The Eagle's prime rib was the best in town. "Communism, radicalism, hate; the human race wants to destroy itself."

"Do you feel like an observer to the end?" Sterling asked.

"Well, I'm sure I'm not the only one."

They finished their meals in thoughtful silence. Jenna noticed that Sterling only drank iced tea, no wine or spirits.

"You're wise for your age, Jenna," he said.

"Thank you. But maybe I'm too serious. I'm not fun."

"Neither am I. I know too much."

Jenna grinned. "You do?"

Sterling returned her smile. "No. I'm a fool. Would you like dessert?"

Jenna refused, but they lingered for a while. Other diners came and went. Jenna had wanted to keep Sterling talking, hoping he might reveal something. Instead, he remained charming, but remote. She did not miss how he looked at her; a mixture of fascination and fear, the same way she felt about him.

"Do you have any girlfriends?" Jenna asked.

He shook his head. "Not right now."

"Ever been married?"

"No. And no children."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I guess you think that because I'm older than you, I've had more life experience," Sterling said, "but when love is new, it's like you're a kid all over again. When you really love..."

"Have you really loved?"

"Just once. It didn't last long. She...moved on."

Sterling had returned Jenna to Collinwood, where she reported to David, letting him know what went on at dinner. Sterling had not followed her inside the great house, merely dropping her off in his rental car. She did not stay downstairs for long, going up to her guest room alone.

She found herself missing Lucas. She could talk to him about anything.

I'm sure they're all looking for me, she thought.

She was thinking about her visit to the professor's home and how Adam seemed subdued, even bored. He had not seemed to change in her time, although she had rarely been alone with him.

Her next thought made her gasp, almost falling out of bed.

Did Adam know? she thought. Did he recognize me later? The only thing different about me are my clothes; otherwise, I look just as I did when I left 2015. He must have known. And if I came into 1975 wearing Vicki's old dress, would that same dress be in the west wing now?

Jenna could not get the question out of her mind. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, so she covered herself in a robe over the pajamas David bought her, putting her feet in slippers.

She walked to the west wing entrance. She was sure no one was awake. The double doors would be locked, so she had to go downstairs to the kitchen. She chuckled at the 70s-style olive green refrigerator and stove. The dark wood cupboards and drawers creaked during her search. In her time, these had been replaced, the new models and white appliances whisper quiet. She turned the light switch off as soon as she had the key in her hand.

She walked back to the west wing in the dark. She unlocked the heavy old doors, pushing one of these open gently, hoping no one heard. She looked out at the hallway, chiding herself for not bringing a flashlight. However, a solution appeared.

The candlesticks she had found with Lucas were on the bureau close by, along with a few old candles and a box of matches. She fumbled in the dark, going by touch. She struck a match against the box, moving the flame to a candlewick, creating enough light. She closed the door, taking the candle with her.

She found Quentin's old phonograph, all the furniture, and the art deco statue; the same things, just moved around. She found the room with the armoire, holding the flame near the handle. But the doors would not budge. She looked up, seeing a small padlock securing the armoire through a latch.

Why is it locked? she thought.

She set the candle on a secure surface, the flame flickering. She reached around the armoire, looking for another key. On top, underneath, she encountered more dust and cobwebs. Discouraged and tired, Jenna knew her question might not be answered, but she still had the dress in her bags she brought back from the mall.

She grabbed the candle and was exiting the room when she heard the music. Violin. Romantic, mournful. Her candlelight came upon the old phonograph. Jenna stayed put, letting the music play out. She could imagine herself dancing with a handsome partner. Maybe Sterling would like to hear this song. He was probably a good dancer, good at everything. Then she thought of Lucas, and her stomach ached.

Jenna stepped closer, feeling the cold air around the phonograph. A subtle change, the west wing was always a bit chilly. She took in the little mechanisms of the phonograph, almost eighty years old. She was surprised that the phonograph functioned so well. Jenna brushed the dust off the speaker, the round shape decorated with a floral pattern.

The time and labor to make this could have been weeks or months, she thought. An MP-3 player is made in minutes on an assembly line, then discarded for a newer model, like my iPhone. Everything is faster, but disposable.

She stepped away, approaching the door. She blew out the candle after putting it back where she found it. She pushed open the door.

She almost gasped when she saw her uncle Roger Collins standing steps away in his robe. "Young lady, what were you doing in there?"

Jenna had to think fast. She gripped the key in her palm, pressing it into her skin. David would forgive her for a lie, but she would have some explaining to do. "I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but David said I could check out some of the antiques in the west wing. He gave me the key..."

She handed the key back to Roger, who took it from her. "Why this late? It's dark in there, you could fall..."

"I couldn't sleep. And, yes, it's too dark. I didn't spend much time in there."

"Well, I'll talk to David about it in the morning. I suggest you go on to bed."

"Yes. Good night."

She did not take a breath until she reached the guest room. She shut the door, then sat on the bed. She sighed, her hands at her cheeks. She would have to warn David before his father questioned him.

She knew she would not sleep tonight. She continued to sit in the dark, thinking of the phonograph playing by itself in the cold dark.

She turned on the lamp by her bed. She went to the closet and found the lavender dress in a shopping bag. She would never know why the armoire was locked.

Collinsport, 2015

Julia was tired after only a few hours of helping with the search on the estate. She walked with Quentin back to the great house, her hands inside her jacket pockets, a scarf around her head.

"Julia," Quentin said, "I have to admit I'm relieved someone is here that I can talk to."

"There's only one Quentin Collins. If he wants to pass himself off as his own son, so be it."

"And there's only one Julia Hoffman. How have you explained your presence here?"

"I did something radical−I told the truth."

She explained the events leading up to being found by Carolyn and Maggie. How she found the Collins family shot dead in another time band.

"And you think you may have been hallucinating?" Quentin asked.

"I'm not sure what I saw was real, except the house looked like the Collinwood of 1971. As soon as I ran out of the house, I arrived at 2015. I remember running through the grounds, trying to get the sight of them−all dead−out of my mind..."

"Who would have done such a horrific thing?"

Julia shook her head. "Well, it's obvious it was an illusion. Carolyn and Maggie are alive, along with David..."

"Do you feel safe?"

"No. Something happened at Adam's cottage."

Julia explained seeing Barnabas, how he taunted her, but she wasn't entirely sure the entity was, in fact, Barnabas.

"I smelled sulfur," she said. "Whatever it was, it wasn't human, and it wasn't Barnabas. He never would have spoken to me that way."

"Was it an energy that could have followed you from the past?"

"Who knows? Stranger things have happened." Julia sighed, the ends of her headscarf flapping in the night breeze. "Have you met Carolyn's daughter−in−law, Dawn Stoddard?"

"Not yet."

"She reminds me of Angelique. And we know better than to underestimate her. The family is going through some big changes. I've noticed that Collinwood needs work and the old house is a ruin. Selling the cannery means the end of an era for Collinsport and the family."

"I'm surprised David isn't more involved," Quentin said.

"From what I've heard, he's not been involved for a long time. He lives in Boston. He was once in love with Jenna's mother, Rebecca, who disappeared on these grounds years ago."

"Do you think Rebecca could have been lost in time?"

"I thought that was what happened to Barnabas. But, if he returned, he wouldn't be far away. Collinwood was always his home."

"Well, he spent two hundred years sleeping in the secret room in the mausoleum."

"But he wasn't human then."

"When he went to 1897, he woke up a vampire in his coffin..."

"You mean, he could have returned cursed again?" Julia asked.

"Possibly. Or he could have just gone away if he had to."

"But someone around here would know."

"Who? By the early 70s, the only family left at Collinwood were Elizabeth, Roger, Carolyn, and David. Professor Stokes was still around, but the rest of us were gone. Maggie checked herself out of Windcliff and moved to California. Carolyn was pregnant for Paul. I left town after Maggie. Barnabas went to England, although that was never confirmed. The rumor was that you could have followed him or moved on. What was it, Julia?"

"The last time I saw him was in the east wing in 1971. But it is possible Angelique could have been around, waiting for him."

"I thought she died in 1840. She went back to look for Barnabas, but Trask shot her."

Julia shrugged. "She's never too far from Barnabas. And Dawn just gives me a bad feeling."

"How can you prove she's Angelique?" Quentin asked.

"I'd have to get her to confess. I was hoping Stokes might have known something, that's one of the reasons why I've been looking through his papers."

"And those papers were found at Adam's cottage. Do you think Barnabas would have gone to him?"

Julia shook her head. "Not without a third party."

"Who?"

"Stokes, most likely."

"Anyone else?"

"Of everyone in the family, who could Barnabas trust with his secret?"

"David?"

"He would have been eighteen or nineteen by then. He's a Collins, he knows how to keep secrets."

"I'll bet he still does."

"Can you contact him?" Julia asked.

"Yes. But I can't guarantee how he will react. I'll have to be careful. If he is honest about what he knows, I may have to tell him the truth as well."

"It makes me wonder," Julia said, "what kind of man David has become.'

### Chapter Fifteen

Collinsport, 1975

"Don't get too preoccupied by the girl," Angelique said. "That's not the reason we are here."

"I know the reason," Sterling said. "She's a nice dalliance while I decide which I should destroy first−Collinwood or the cannery?"

"What about little Paul Stoddard?"

Angelique regretted asking the question before she could finish.

The two were in Sterling's room at the Collinsport Inn. Angelique in a chair, Sterling on the sofa.

"I thought you'd never ask," Sterling said. "I was saving him for last, but he could be first."

"Sterling, I'm getting bored. Please give me something to do."

"Here, kitty, kitty."

"You've gone mad."

Sterling laughed. "I believe a stray cat would find it easier to get into Collinwood right now than me. I'm sure little Paul would be quite taken with a playful kitty."

"Just as you're taken with Jenna. Tell me, do you plan to take her as another bride?"

"Jenna is really of little use to me."

"That's what Nicholas Blair said of Maggie Evans."

"Enough of the past, witch. There are many ways for a cat to enter Collinwood."

Adam, wearing a dark cap and keeping his head down, entered the phone booth in the lobby at the Collinsport Inn.

Stokes answered. Adam kept his voice low. "Professor, Sterling Grace has a woman staying with him. I think she is Angelique."

He went on to explain that he had followed Sterling upstairs to find the man's room. Adam waited awhile, then sneaked to the locked door, hoping to catch a scrap of conversation, even though he knew Sterling had checked in with only a cat for company. However, he heard a woman's laughter, and the sound gave him chills.

"You can't prove that Sterling has Angelique in his room," Stokes said.

"What about the cat?"

"Angelique is a skilled witch; I wouldn't be surprised if she could shape-shift. I also wouldn't be surprised if she had some connection to Sterling Grace. He reminds one of Nicholas Blair."

"Blair served the devil. I don't think Sterling Grace is any different."

"Sterling is worse. He was never a servant. Be careful, Adam. I'm sure he knows he's being followed."

"I saw him with David's friend. Eating dinner at the Eagle. I drank coffee while he charmed her. David needs to know."

Stokes chuckled. "I think he already knows."

Collinsport, 2015

Lucas knocked at the front door of Gerry and Daphne Stiles's home.

"Come on in! It's unlocked!"

Lucas realized Daphne would have difficulty answering the door with a broken ankle. "It's Lucas Evans, Mrs. Stiles!"

"I'm in here."

Lucas stepped into the double-wide trailer, the door leading to the living room. Daphne was sitting in an easy chair, wrapped in a crocheted afghan, the granny squares red, orange, and brown. She wore a brace around her ankle and foot. Her dark hair was loose, no makeup.

"The girls aren't here," she said.

Her gaze never left his face. He knew she had recognized him last night.

"I wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Stiles."

"Call me Daphne. Have a seat."

She pointed to the nearby sofa. He could feel his legs shaking, but he sat by her.

"Lucas, what's wrong?"

Tears came his eyes, his hand covering his mouth. Daphne waited a moment, letting him get a hold of his feelings. He took a deep breath. "She doesn't know. I don't want her to know..."

"Your grandmother?"

He nodded. "How could I explain?"

"How many times have you...transformed?"

"Twice."

"Only twice?"

"That I can recall. The first time was in the winter. Full moon. Lucky for me, Grandma was working nights. I changed back before she got home. I could have frozen to death out in those woods, but I didn't because I wasn't human." He swallowed. "Last night, I only had minutes to get away from the others before I started to change. Each time, it's so painful. And I can't stop it..."

"What I understand," Daphne said, "is that your problem is caused by a curse."

"Who would curse me?" Lucas asked. "Who did I piss off?"

"Do you recall anything unusual about your father or grandfather?"

"My dad was an alcoholic for years and my grandfather was a Vietnam vet. He committed suicide when they all lived in California."

"Do you think that was true? A suicide?"

"That's what I was told. But what really scares me is knowing I could have hurt Jenna or somebody else. Maybe I made Jenna disappear."

"I don't think so, Lucas."

"Why not?"

"It was likely she disappeared from Collinwood during the day. I'm convinced you had nothing to do with it."

"Then...where is she? What happened to her?"

"I don't know how or why, but Jenna and her mother are alive."

"Are they in the same place?"

"I can't say for sure. But I've been hearing, in my head, a lot of music from the 1970s. Have you ever heard the song Kashmir by Led Zeppelin?"

"I've heard it. Everyone knows Zeppelin."

"The song begins, 'I'm a traveler of both time and space...'"

"Do you think Jenna is...in another time?" Lucas asked.

"Possibly. But she's not dead and I don't think she's suffering or in pain." Daphne sighed. "Unlike my ankle."

"I'm sorry."

"It was my own clumsiness."

"I scared you. I can only imagine what I look like."

"A typical wolf except for your eyes. That's how I recognized you. You wouldn't have attacked."

"You can't say that for sure, Daphne. Next time might be different."

"When you look at me, do you see a five-pointed star?"

"What?"

"I heard, from an old gypsy friend, that the person with the werewolf curse can see his next victim because a five-sided star will appear on the victim, usually the face."

"I haven't seen anything like that."

"Good. You have enough problems; for instance, keeping your job and getting to Cornell for your first semester."

Lucas shook his head, "I'll be lucky if I keep my job. Besides, the cannery will be sold."

"Did you meet this Sterling guy?"

"At the golf club with Grandpa. How do you know his name?"

"Rumors around the cannery. Gerry comes home and tells me. The offer was the highest, right?"

"From what I heard, the offer was higher than the place is worth. My grandpa thinks Sterling Gift is a con artist. Ms. Stoddard won't take his offer."

"I wonder how I could meet this guy."

"He's staying at the Collinsport Inn. But I don't see how you can get around."

"I'll figure something out. Maybe I can help you, too. In the meantime, keep an eye out for the full moon. You'll need a place to hide on those nights."

"What if I have to work the next morning?"

"Do you like your job?"

"No. But if I quit, Grandma would want an explanation. What could I tell her?"

"I could help you tell her the truth."

"And why would she believe me?"

"Maggie isn't closed−minded. She had her experiences in this town, long ago. She could tell you many things. She was a nanny at Collinwood. The ghosts are plenty there. I thought I saw another one last night, but it was only a cousin from Canada."

"Jim? He seems okay..."

"He's not as he seems, either. But Jim Collins doesn't scare me; I think he's here to help us. Especially you, Lucas."

### Chapter Sixteen

Quentin helped Julia sort through the professor's papers. The night had become cold. Quentin had turned the heat on, making the old cottage more comfortable.

"What exactly are you looking for?" he asked.

Julia, a pile of handwritten letters in her lap, sighed. "I was hoping Barnabas had communicated with Stokes after he returned. Maybe the professor wrote something down. I thought it could help us find Barnabas."

"I managed to leave a message with David, but he hasn't called back."

"I appreciate you coming here with me, Quentin. Last time, I ran out of here terrified. And the papers I brought with me to Collinwood revealed nothing."

"Do you think Adam could have left some writing? He would have been living with Professor Stokes when Barnabas returned."

"Worst case scenario is Adam would have driven a stake through his heart."

"From what you've told me, _that_ would have killed them both."

"They shared a lifeforce, this thread between them. We made a bad mistake, but Barnabas wanted to be free of his curse, and I indulged him. I fear that when Adam died, Barnabas may have died as well."

"I'm going to search Adam's room. Maybe I can find something."

"Carolyn made it sound like Adam was protective of his privacy. He had become a bit of a recluse except for his job at the cannery."

"Based on my own experience, I can tell you that no man can go for long without a friend. He would have confided in Carolyn, at least."

"Do you think he would have told Carolyn about Barnabas?"

"Not if it compromised her safety."

"Adam was always protective of Carolyn. She shared his secret with Maggie, but neither of them knew about Barnabas."

"Or do they? I'm going to get more coffee. Want some?"

"No thanks."

Quentin took his remaining cup of coffee to Adam's room and Julia resumed sorting through more papers, surprised that Adam had bothered to keep some of the professor's tax returns and paid bills. Carolyn had confessed to getting a fake Social Security number for Adam through Bruno Hess, of all people. Adam did not use a bank, so he must have kept his money somewhere. Carolyn and Maggie had found the cash Adam gifted to Jenna but hadn't searched for more.

"Julia! Come in here!"

She was soon standing next to him in Maggie's old room, a lamp on in the corner. Whatever cheer Maggie had brought to the space was gone, Adam's décor sparse and somber.

Quentin had turned the mattress over, revealing a hidden stash of several envelopes in different sizes. Quentin pushed the mattress aside and retrieved the envelopes. A piece of paper fluttered away. Julia picked it up, taking it to the lamplight.

"This is a personal check," she said. "Made out for Adam by David Collins. The date is August 12, 1974. Adam must have given himself a last name. Carson..."

"I can assume he didn't cash the check."

"The amount was five hundred dollars. The check was from an account through Maine State Bank, a branch in Bangor."

"David would have come into part of his trust by eighteen years old. Maybe Adam performed a service for David, but Adam decided not to cash the check."

"But why would he keep it?" Julia asked.

Quentin shrugged. "Maybe we can learn more from these envelopes. All we seem to have is a paper trail..."

"It could be worse," Julia said, "When I went to the library, Stokes's best work was only available on computer or microfiche."

"They still use microfiche?"

"I feel so lost, Quentin. I need a guide for the twenty-first century."

"Let me help you." Quentin put his hand on her shoulder. "It all started with the personal computer..."

Julia and Quentin had consumed several cups of coffee between them while Quentin explained modern technology. By the time Quentin came to Steve Jobs and the iPhone, Julia was ready to return to the unopened envelopes for a break.

She found a newspaper article about a man who died in prison in Pennsylvania in the mid-1960s. He strongly resembled Adam. Julia, trying not to shudder, put the clipping aside.

"I think I found something," Quentin said. "A letter dated August 11, 1974. Just days before David wrote his check."

He unfolded the handwritten pages and recognized Barnabas's old-fashioned script. He read out loud:

'Dear Professor

By the time you receive this letter, I will be gone. Please don't look for me, because my presence may endanger you and Adam, not mention the whole Collins family.

I have stayed in hiding since returning from the past. I am once again a vampire, controlled by the relentless and shameful hunger for blood. Julia could help keep the condition at bay with the injections, but I think I am beyond help. I am afraid. I don't know where Julia can be found, most likely lost in time as I was.

I recall being in the room in the east wing. It only seemed seconds when I woke up on a sandy beach, disoriented. However, I soon realized I was on Martinique. I wondered if I was dreaming, but the sun and scents intoxicated me. In some ways, Martinique had become my home. Martinique made me believe in enchantment. So many heady experiences happened to me there. Angelique. Josette. Working for my father on the sugarcane plantation, trying to prove so much to him and Jeremiah, the uncle I loved like a brother.

I wandered the beach until I saw a familiar place. The little house, more like a shack. She lived there with her mother, Cymbeline; a woman of color, her mother was a slave. Angelique easily passed for white. The little girl playing in the sand was her, no older than six. Her back was to me as she stepped into the water, waves splashing almost up to her chest.

I am not sure what I was thinking when I started taking hurried steps in the sand, my boots almost sinking, the warm breeze blowing through my long coat. I was a mortal man, but still strong.

I told her I had loved her. I held her as she died from Trask's bullet. I had wanted to forgive her, to end the curse. However, I was still angry, I could not forgive myself, and this self-loathing is what drove me as I went into the water.

She was already under, all I had to do was keep her there. My hand cupped her head, the blonde curls between my fingers. How easy to keep the curse from ever happening, to end this child's life to prevent so much future suffering. In my madness, I managed to convince myself that the murder of a child made sense.

I heard a woman scream but I did not move, even though the child was fighting me in her panic. If only she would have become still, stopped thrashing, I could finish this evil business.

The weight of Cymbeline's body as she jumped on me put me off-balance. Something heavy and hard slammed into the back of my head. I let go of the child as I fell into the water unconscious.

I woke up yet again on the beach, but now in darkness. Blood had dried on my face and head, running down a cheek. I had taken a hard blow, I was dizzy as I gazed at the sky, a full moon spinning. I moved my head to the right and took in the figure standing above me.

He held a lighted torch, the flames pale against his red eyes. The man's lips were twisted into a sneer. He was naked except for a pair of knee-length white pants, his long hair blowing in the night wind.

"Barnabas Collins," he said. "You have failed once again."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I have many names. And I am always watching. I brought you here and you failed. I can't say I'm surprised."

"Angelique and her mother?"

"They are in their home. Both are fine. As far as Cymbeline knows, her daughter almost drowned, but she found her on the beach. She never saw you."

"What do you want from me?"

"You're my best instrument. As a witch, Angelique is a genius. But genius is a gift. _I_ give gifts, too. Sometimes, to myself."

He dropped the torch, but I could still make out his transformation. His extended arms turned into dark wings, his legs disappearing, his head shrinking. The wings flapped against the breeze, blocking the moonlight and the flickering torch on the sand. The eyes remained red. I smelled burning charcoal. I tried to rise. My vision was blurred, but I could see the darkness coming closer. A set of sharp teeth, like those of a wolf. The jaws opened, the sour stench on my cheek. His tongue licked the dried blood, traveling to my neck. I was too terrified to move. I was the captive of a demon, his toy. He tore at my throat, my scream silent. I passed out from the pain.

I woke up in Eagle Hill Cemetery. The year was 1974. I didn't know this until later. I wandered with the bloody wound at my throat, knowing the hunger would come soon. I needed to hide. I found the family crypt and the secret room. My coffin remained, but I sat on the floor for what seemed like days, waiting for my flesh to heal. My suit was dirty and tattered, sand still clung to my trousers and shoes. I needed time to deal with the shock. I could have sought out my friends, but how could I explain what I tried to do to the child Angelique? A child murderer, that's what I would have been. She was no older than my sister when Sarah died.

The hunger forced me out of the crypt. I went to the Blue Whale and the wharf, hoping I wouldn't bump into anyone I knew. My victim was a woman who I later threw into the water. My hunger sated, I decided to return to Collinwood.

I couldn't just knock at the door. I had been gone for almost three years. I tried to be optimistic, figuring 1974 couldn't be any worse than 1995, when everyone was gone except for Carolyn and Quentin, both mad. Stokes had even lost his mind. The ghosts of Gerard Stiles and Daphne Harridge were active, another haunting at Collinwood.

I decided to take a detour, walking to Widow's Hill. The August night was heavy, the humidity alive with the sound of crickets and cicadas. The trail to Widow's Hill was dusty, surrounded by tall weeds and wildflowers.

I heard singing.

"...all the lonely people. Where do they all come from..."

I knew the song and the singer, although the voice was now deeper. David. As I came closer, I saw a figure sitting in the grass, the volume low on the little radio, the music almost drowned out by the crashing waves below the cliffs.

"...all the lonely people..."

I decided to approach David, who didn't notice my presence until I was standing next to him. The young man looked up, startled.

"Barnabas." David reached over and turned off his radio. "When did you get back in town? Is Dr. Hoffman with you?"

"No," I said. "I'm alone."

"It's good to see you." David rose from the grass. He shook my hand and I noticed he had grown up a lot since I last saw him. "What brings you back from England?"

"Oh. Just a visit. I've missed Collinwood."

I wasn't sure if he could hear the sadness in my voice. However, he took a step back.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"No. I'm not..."

"Are you ill? I can get Father."

"No. Please don't. I need your help, David. I need you to listen to me."

I told my story, David a rapt listener. If you ask him, Professor, tell him that I am sorry to have put such a burden on him. Unless you have a cure, please let me sleep.

Your friend,

Barnabas Collins

"He was alone," Julia said. "I couldn't get back..."

"The demon said Barnabas had failed," Quentin said.

"To truly forgive Angelique for her crimes would take a great leap of faith," Julia said. "And Barnabas was only human."

"Was?" Quentin asked.

"He's different under the curse. He becomes selfish and calculating. Abusive. At the same time, he loathes himself."

"I never took Barnabas for a victim. He was trying to protect himself. However, if he took David into his confidence, then David has the answers. I'll keep trying to get ahold of him."

"But if this letter was intended for the professor, why did Adam keep it?" Julia asked.

"Makes you wonder if Stokes ever saw it."

"That's what I'm thinking. Along with the uncashed check."

"Adam wouldn't take the money. I never met the man, but I know he had no use for Barnabas and the family, except for Carolyn. He only would have used what he learned against Barnabas, right? He couldn't be forced to help."

"Or could he? Adam was being sought by police when he left town. He only returned because he was assured by Stokes and Carolyn that the police had lost interest in the murder of Eve, for some reason. I always thought Nicholas Blair had a hand in that, but who knows? Adam was able stay with Stokes and later work at the cannery for decades without a problem. Why? The Adam I remember hated Barnabas, hated me. He would have been fine without us around."

"He would have felt threatened if Barnabas came home," Quentin said.

"Not if Barnabas was incapacitated in some way."

"Locked up in his coffin, in a place no one could find."

"David knows," Julia said. "And I'll bet he was willing to prove his loyalty to his cousin; just one more family secret he had to keep."

"And there are many. I'm surprised he's stayed away for this long, considering Collinwood is the only place where _I_ feel normal."

### Chapter Seventeen

I thought I had problems, but when Barnabas showed up that night at Widow's Hill, my world turned completely upside down.

I listened to his whole story; Martinique, Angelique, Josette, Jeremiah, the vampire curse, and how Barnabas was cursed again. Time travel in the east wing. The west wing. Quentin, once a werewolf, then cursed with immortality. I was dumbstruck, but his story filled in so many holes, such as my stepmother Cassandra's disappearance and Quentin's ghost. Why Willie and Julia were so secretive.

I was flattered Barnabas chose to trust me. I had spent the last year feeling like a failure, but helping Barnabas made me useful. For some reason, I chose to believe him. As a child, I thought Barnabas was a mysterious, powerful figure. My father and Aunt Elizabeth trusted him as a member of the family. Because of this trust, I found myself following him to the cemetery, the mausoleum, and the not-so-secret room.

I felt sad at the thought of Barnabas, seeming so vulnerable, as he settled himself into the ancient coffin. He had removed his long coat, placing it on the stone floor, along with the wolf-head cane. He had also showed me the rusted chains in the corner. I tested the links between my hands, the metal still strong.

" _Is there any other solution?" I asked._

" _I don't have any other option. Not right now..."_

I worked slow, hoping he would change his mind. If not a corpse, I could not think of anyone who deserved to be interred in a coffin. How lonely, how senseless.

" _David..."_

I could hear the impatience in his voice. I dragged the coffin lid over. I sighed as I covered him with the old wood.

" _You don't know the favor you're doing me," he said._

Those were the last words I heard from him.

I left him with chains wrapped tight around the coffin. I exited the mausoleum, my steps slow. I didn't want to go home. I came to the cemetery gate, then sat at the bench. Anyone who came by would find me a peculiar sight.

I was tempted to return to my spot at Widow's Hill. I left my radio there, hidden in some bushes. I could pretend this never happened, except for this letter he wrote to Professor Stokes, the envelope between my hands. He was too ashamed to tell the professor in person what he did, but he told me. He tried to drown a little girl and met a demon that made him a vampire again. What about the first time? Barnabas had kept his secrets well−with a little help from his friends, like Dr. Hoffman and Professor Stokes. Now Barnabas was depending on me.

I had promised to move his coffin before I gave the professor the letter. I was not to reveal that location. To make that happen, I needed help.

_I saw him walking towards me, a grocery bag in the crook_ of his arm.

" _Adam..."_

He heard me. "Hello, David."

He would have kept walking, so I had to say something. "Have the police been to see you?"

He stopped and turned around. "Why?"

" _You've been back for how long? Three years?"_

" _What are you getting at?"_

" _Funny how no one thought it was unusual. I heard you got into some trouble..."_

The night was hot, but Adam was not dressed for the weather, the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt covering the scars on his body. He set the grocery bag next to me on the bench.

" _What kind of trouble?" he asked._

" _A woman was found dead at the Collinsport Inn. She was strangled. Red hair, black dress..."_

I hated doing this, but I promised Barnabas. I had been told by Carolyn often enough to leave Adam alone; he was troubled, possibly mentally ill. I didn't quite know why he was friends with Carolyn. However, the rumor had spread across town the redhead, named Eve, had lived at Nicholas Blair's house with Blair and Adam.

Adam sighed. "What do you want, David?"

" _Barnabas is back in town. He came to me for help, but I need someone to help me, too."_

" _He's been gone for almost four years. Why is he back now?"_

I could have told him the whole story; vampires, time travel, the bat−demon. Instead, I chose a short cut.

" _I need you to help me move him. In his coffin."_

Adam's mouth almost dropped open. "I don't believe it..."

" _I've got a letter here, written by Barnabas, that he wants the professor to have. But I need you to help me first."_

" _Professor told me everything about Barnabas after I came back. A vampire. Just like Angelique. Blair did that to her..."_

" _There's another like Blair. The story is in this letter. Look, I can't ask anyone else."_

" _Because I'm the one with nothing to lose. What I'm thinking, David Collins, is either I help you or you go to the police. You can try to threaten me with the idea they may start to see me as a suspect in Eve's murder. She died a Jane Doe, as she deserved. What's in it for me?"_

I forgot how smart he was. "I can pay you..."

He shook his head, grinning. "You've become a real Collins man, haven't you? I don't want Collins money."

He reached for the grocery bag.

" _Why did you really come back?" I asked._

He shrugged. "I could have gone anywhere. But I have to stay here."

" _For Carolyn? The professor?"_

" _Collinsport is my home. I'm less of a stranger here. Go ahead, David, call the police. You know, all you had to do was ask me for help."_

" _You hate Barnabas."_

" _Barnabas chained in his coffin is no threat to me. But why do you need to move him?"_

I explained the best I could, Adam listening.

" _He's afraid he will destroy himself?" Adam asked._

" _Before he can control his...hunger. Only Dr. Hoffman could help him with the injections. I think he is willing to wait for her to come back. In the meantime, he thinks he's more safe hiding somewhere else."_

" _Hiding from whom?"_

" _The demon−thing that returned his curse. Will you help me, Adam? I'll never bother you again."_

" _Why do I have a feeling that's not true? All right, David, tell me your plan."_

Collinsport 2015

Daphne Stiles received more visitors over the next few days, neighbors and friends checking in after Gerry went to work. Kim and Emma had pulled away from the search for Jenna. However, Lucas was not giving up, he and his grandfather spending their free time at Collinwood. The FBI were already in town and, along with law enforcement, were widening the search.

Daphne was sitting at her kitchen table with her lap-top when she heard a knock at the door. She realized Gerry had locked it before he left for work. She limped over to the door, finding Jim Collins standing on her porch.

"Hello, Daphne. Just wanted to see how you're doing..."

She was not fooled by his harmless demeanor. She was aware of his interest in her, but it left her a bit baffled. She was unsure what he was seeing when he looked at her. She invited him in. He offered to make coffee in the kitchen. Daphne waited at the table, watching him pour the water into the coffee maker. She suddenly felt another wave of déjà vu, as if she and Jim had done this very thing before.

I remind him of someone else, she thought. Some other woman...

The sadness washed over her, a lump forming in her throat. She grabbed a paper napkin, dabbing at her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked.

"You are not you, and you want me to be someone else. Why?"

Quentin put the cups and spoons down on the table. His gaze stayed on hers and, for a moment, he wished to be back to that time when he met Daphne Harridge. Before he returned to Collinsport, there were no faces to remind him of the past, but Daphne, this Daphne, brought it all back.

"If you want me to leave," he said, "I can go."

"No. I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"You can tell me what your real name is."

"You're quite the psychic, aren't you?"

"I need to be able to trust you because someone else is involved. I promised him I would be careful."

"Who is this other person?"

Daphne told Quentin about Lucas and his curse. His eyes widened and then he looked down, but he didn't interrupt.

"For some reason," Daphne said, "I thought you would be the person to understand."

"Yes, I do." He returned to the coffee, pouring the brew into the cups. "What do you know about werewolves?"

"Not much. Full moon. Wolfsbane."

Quentin chuckled, handing her a cup. She took it by the handle. The cup was from the cannery, boasting the name and address along with 'Collinsport, Maine,' with two sardines creating a circle, like the symbol of Pisces.

"A gypsy cursed me as a werewolf," he said, "later as an immortal man. I would prefer that you call me Jim, as my relatives know me. My real name is Quentin Collins. I was born in 1872."

He down sat at the table and told Daphne his story.

"I'm sorry, Carolyn," Tony Petersen said. "The Feds can be arrogant, but if anyone can find Jenna, it's those guys."

Carolyn nodded, exhaustion making her irritable. "I know. But I'm running out of patience."

Carolyn and Tony were in the drawing room at Collinwood. The two FBI agents, both men, were in the foyer, putting on their jackets.

Carolyn tried to keep her voice down. "They think Jenna is just some spoilt rich kid who ran away, but they're wrong."

"I know," Tony said. "Just let them do their job."

Carolyn left the room, joining the men in the foyer. The agents were going out the door when Lucas almost bumped into them at the threshold.

"Ms. Stoddard, someone out here wants to see you," Lucas said.

"Who?"

"Sterling Gift."

She shrugged. "He can come in."

The agents left, passing Sterling. When they were gone, Carolyn turned back to the living room. Lucas and Sterling followed.

"I don't mean to be rude, Sterling," she said, "but I haven't had the time to deal with business."

"That's all right," he said. "I was just offering to help search, but I see those men look rather official."

"FBI," Carolyn said. "Waiting for ransom demands. Just like Rebecca..."

Carolyn's voice became shrill when she was upset, something the others didn't miss. She grew quiet, taking a deep breath.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sterling asked.

Tony opened his mouth, then shut it, looking to Carolyn.

"I appreciate your concern," she said, "but, because of the sale of the cannery, there is a conflict of interest. I'm sure you understand..."

"Oh, of course. I had considered that, but I felt compelled to stop by. Your granddaughter is missing, after all."

"And, until Jenna is found, I won't be concentrating on the sale. Right now, I need to be home."

Tony had positioned himself almost next to Sterling, Lucas close by. Sterling could take the hint; besides, he had the information he wanted.

Sterling gave his sweetest smile. "I understand, Ms. Stoddard. I will not trouble you further."

He was followed out of the house by Tony and Lucas, who stayed in the walkway, watching Sterling enter his rental car and drive off.

"Do you think he'll stay away?" Lucas asked.

"Not for long," Tony said.

"Do you think Dawn has something to do with this?"

"Jenna disappeared before Dawn arrived."

"I don't trust her."

"Carolyn said that Paul has called many times, wanting to speak to Dawn, but she isn't here. He's already on a flight back home."

"Where would Dawn go? What friends does she have in Collinsport?"

"None. When I get the chance, I'd like to ask her a few questions, not to mention Sterling Gift. I'm glad to see Carolyn keeping him at arm's length."

"Grandpa, I think you should stay away from him."

"I'll be all right, Lucas. I'm sure he doesn't feel threatened by me."

### Chapter Eighteen

Maggie, although a supervisor for many years, found herself filling in when the crew was short−handed. On this day, she found herself alone in the processing area, water hose in hand.

Sanitation was priority at the cannery. The belts used to move the product−in this case, thousands of sardines−needed to be cleaned with scalding hot water. Maggie was dressed for the job, wearing thick gloves to avoid getting burned. Her face was partially covered by a paper mask, her hair covered with a net under her hardhat.

Maggie gripped the hose, ready to spray the bits of sardine and slime from the rubber belt. She could have had Lucas doing this job, but he took the day off, using the search as his excuse, although the rest of the cannery volunteers had returned to work, their efforts unnecessary now that the FBI was involved, the local police force just as resentful and disoriented as when Rebecca disappeared fifteen years ago.

Maggie gave the belt a good spray, using a thick piece of paper towel to get at the stubborn bits. She was bending over, her belly brushing against the belt and its metal frame. She was wearing a gray sweatshirt, a wide hem around the bottom. A bit of the fabric caught between the belt and the frame. As Maggie pulled away, she realized she was stuck. She dropped the hose to the floor and was reaching to pull out the hem when the conveyor started.

The belt began to move, taking Maggie with it, her shirt twisting in the machinery. The belt quickened as Maggie grabbed on to the frame. Her foot slipped on the wet floor, her shirt continuing to pull at her, keeping her upright while she was being propelled towards the conveyor's main switch.

Maggie knew how to turn the machine off, but she could not get enough control to reach the emergency stop button. Instead, she let the thick glove slip from her left hand, and she pulled her arm from the sleeve. She was half-way out of her shirt when the fabric began to gather at her neck. The belt was moving too fast, so she pulled off the other glove with her teeth, allowing her to slip out of the sweatshirt. She landed on her side in a pool of hot water. After taking a few deep breaths, she got up from the floor. When she reached the control panel, her shirt was wrapped tight around the belt. She pushed the red button, the machinery grinding to a halt.

"I've worked with that machine for years," Maggie said, "and I have never seen it start by itself."

The plant manager, a rotund fellow named Chuck, sat across from her at his desk. He was being patient, concerned for Maggie's safety. A maintenance technician had examined the machine but found no problems.

"We're just relieved you're all right," Chuck said. "From now on, no one works alone at that machine."

Maggie sighed. Her hip and back were starting to ache, and the office chair at Chuck's desk small and hard. Her pants and T-shirt were still wet. She was trembling. Chuck had worked at the cannery for only a few years, but Maggie had been an employee for almost forty. She had experience with almost every machine in the building.

"Why don't you take tomorrow off?" Chuck asked. "And you should stop at the clinic on the way home."

Maggie agreed and left the office. However, she had no intention of going to the clinic. She could feel the pain in her hip getting worse, but if she went to the workplace clinic, she would have to get an X-ray, and she was sure she had no broken bones.

She found herself almost limping to her vehicle. The day was humid. A storm was coming later. When she reached her vehicle, keys in hand, she saw a tall figure standing across the road. He was wearing a business suit on this hot day, his long hair brushed back. She could feel his gaze on her. She decided to stare back for a moment.

Why is he just standing there? she thought.

He waved. Maggie, her trembling increasing, did not return the wave. She felt goosebumps rising on her arms. She unlocked her car door and entered, the inside hot. She locked herself in and started the engine. Before she could pull out, she looked in her rearview mirror.

He was standing behind her car. Maggie's foot remained on the brake pedal. She turned her head for a better look, but he was gone.

Collinwood, 1975

"David, we need to talk about your friend Jenny," Roger said.

David, his back to his father, was pouring himself a cup of coffee at the buffet in the dining room.

Jenna had managed to speak to David before he came downstairs for breakfast, explaining how Roger had found her coming out of the west wing. "You mean...about last night?"

"Did you give her the key?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why did she go alone?"

"I don't know. She likes antiques and she was impatient, I guess. She didn't mean any harm."

David sat next to his father at the long table. Jenna would be coming down soon, and he promised to smooth things over with Roger.

"How much do you know about this girl?" Roger asked.

"She's all right, Father. She's from a nice family; no drugs, no scandals, no nervous breakdowns."

"Don't be smart, David. How long does she plan to stay?"

"I don't know. Do you want her to go?"

"I couldn't help but notice how your mood has improved since she arrived; you're not hiding in your room, sleeping late, listening to that ridiculous Led Zeppelin all hours of the night. Do you love this girl?"

"We're just friends. I like having her around."

"Well, you can explain to Liz and Carolyn when they come home."

"Are they coming back early?"

"No, but if Jenny is still here, they'll want to know about her, won't they?"

"I'll just introduce her. Paul likes her; that's a plus."

Roger shrugged. "I have to admit, she is good with him. She even got him into the bathtub last night, something his own mother can't do without help."

"I'm sure Mrs. Johnson will appreciate Jenna watching Paul while she cleans upstairs today."

### *****

Mrs. Johnson had arrived early that morning. When she entered the house, a calico cat followed her in, bounding up the stairs unnoticed. Mrs. Johnson, wearing her black housekeeping dress with a white lace collar, her dark hair pinned up, removed her coat and placed it on a hook next to the door in the foyer.

She sighed as she walked up the stairs. The three stained glass windows needed to be wiped down. Her knees were aching, along with her lower back.

"Miz Jahson!"

"Paul Stoddard! Good morning, young man."

The three-year-old, dressed in a T-shirt and denim overalls, his curly hair combed, was followed by a dark-haired young woman. She smiled at the housekeeper. "You must be Mrs. Johnson. I'm Jenny Baker, a friend of David's from college."

Mrs. Johnson nodded, staring at Paul. "Who dressed him? He's wearing shoes."

"I dressed him. I'm helping with babysitting."

"Only his grandmother can get shoes on him."

Paul nodded, pointing at his shoelaces. "I tied!"

"I'm trying to teach how to tie his shoelaces," Jenna said.

"That's wonderful," the older woman said. She came closer, her back to the windows, her voice a whisper. "You have a way with him. He makes David look like an angel at that age, from what I've heard."

"He can be very sweet."

Paul had wandered over to the head of the stairs, impatient for his breakfast. However, he stayed put, waiting for Jenna to go with him.

"That boy's thick curls hide his horns," Mrs. Johnson said.

"What do you know about his father?"

"Oh, so tragic. Troubled young man. Paul will probably grow up to be just as handsome, though. But a boy needs his father..."

"Jenna! I'm hungry!"

Mrs. Johnson smiled, shook her head. "You have your hands full. I need to start dusting."

Paul Stoddard had noticed the white spotted cat before anyone else, catching a glimpse of the creature as she entered the open door of the guest room before Paul and Jenna had greeted Mrs. Johnson at the windows. Paul had planned to pursue the cat, asking Jenna if he could play in his room upstairs after breakfast.

Jenna left him in his room, the door open. She needed to speak to David and thought Paul would be fine alone for a few minutes. She left him playing on the floor.

Jenna knocked at David's door, he let her in. Paul watched from his doorway, then stepped out.

Mrs. Johnson was standing on a chair, wielding a long feather duster to get at the corners of the ceiling. Her back was to the boy. He walked quickly to the guest room.

Paul got on his knees at the foot of the bed, lifting the spread.

"Kitty, kitty," he whispered.

The cat was hiding in the windowsill behind the heavy drapes. Paul rose from the floor, looking around the room. He saw a drape move and he stepped over.

"Kitty?"

The animal darted out from the drapes and exited the room, her white tail swishing.

Paul stayed silent, watching the cat enter his room. Mrs. Johnson had gone downstairs, leaving her feather duster on the floor. Paul grabbed the duster. He thought the kitty would like to play with the feathers, Instead, the cat had managed to hide again. Paul pulled up the spread on his own bed, using the duster to poke around. When he pulled it back, he saw a paw, claws gripping the feathers. He grinned, then tried again, the cat staying under the bed.

Jenna and David had finished speaking, agreeing that she should meet again with Sterling. Before she left, David asked her to leave the door open. He had also opened his small window.

Mrs. Johnson had returned with a mop and a bucket full of hot soapy water. She was at the head of the stairs, catching her breath. Jenna walked over, taking the bucket. Mrs. Johnson thanked her. Jenna started to carry the bucket to the other end of the hall, past Paul's room.

The cat was now on top of the bed. Paul did not know when to quit, poking the duster in the cat's face. She hissed, flattening her ears. Paul backed off. He put down the duster and returned to his toys.

He sat on the floor, grabbing his Evel Knievel doll and motorcycle. He placed Evel in the seat. The boy was preoccupied long enough for the cat to make her exit, but she was too slow.

"Eveel Neevil!"

She looked behind her, the toy cycle and its rider ready to give chase. The toy began to whiz across the wood floor. The cat tried to dodge out of the way, the front wheel brushing her hip. She ran into the hallway. Jenna, still holding the heavy bucket by the handle, stepped on the cat's tail. Jenna gasped as she lost her footing. She did not drop the bucket, but water sloshed on the floor. The shrieking cat left wet paw prints as she ran. Paul followed with the feather duster. Mrs. Johnson placed the mop against the wall.

"Give me that duster, young man!"

"No! Kitty, kitty!"

The cat was running towards David's room. David had a record playing, the volume low. Paul was gaining on the poor cat. She made a leap for the record player, the object closest to the window. The needle was knocked off Led Zeppelin IV, in the middle of 'Misty Mountain Hop.' The window was cracked wide enough for the cat to get through. David stared, open−mouthed, while Mrs. Johnson and Jenna barged in after Paul.

They all heard the cat screech as she fell into the shrubbery.

### Chapter Nineteen

"Carolyn Stoddard's son is a ghastly child!"

Sterling had just entered his room at the Collinsport Inn. He took in the sight of Angelique in a chair, her nose bloody, her fingers rubbing her shoulder. She was still wearing the blue maxi dress, her blonde hair loose and messy.

"What happened?" Sterling asked.

"You wanted me to get into the house."

"At _night_ , Angelique."

"My mistake. I forgot there was a three-year old boy in the house."

"How did you make it out?"

"Through a window. I didn't exactly land on my feet."

"Your nose is bleeding."

"I think my shoulder is dislocated."

Sterling crouched down beside her, his fingers resting on the joint between Angelique's shoulder and arm. He reached under her bicep. She felt the warmth from his fingers spread through the muscle and bone. There was no pain as he pushed the shoulder back in place. He let go of her arm and cupped her nose with both of his hands.

"Your nose isn't broken..."

Sterling's touch stopped the bleeding. She soon felt better.

"You should rest," he said. "I need to plan. We're running out of time."

"What do you mean?"

"The girl can't stay in 1975 forever."

"Why not? Besides, you want to take her home, don't you?"

"I don't know if that's possible. Her mother could come back at any time. I knew her mother. She wasn't human."

Angelique left her chair, laying down on the sofa. "Who was she?"

"What do you know about David Collins's mother, Laura Stockbridge?"

"When I was Cassandra, married to Roger, he didn't tell me much. But I could pick up the _feeling_ of Laura, what she was. I would sit at the fire in the drawing room and I could see her face in the flames. A phoenix. Burns up and rises from the ashes. Her spirit was drawn to any source of fire in the house, but her energy was weak. I knew for sure Laura had wanted David to burn with her, but his governess put a stop to it. Laura went away, but not entirely."

"A phoenix," Sterling said. "Close enough..."

"What do you know about those creatures?" Angelique asked.

"Like me, they are no accident. Humans exist because they must and it's no different for us. I saw the creatures that existed before mankind, living on in myth. If there is a creature that is one with the mystical fire, it is the phoenix."

"But Laura could have been part human; she gave birth to a son."

Sterling nodded. "She was half-human, not so with Rebecca's daughter. Laura was more calculating, a sociopath. She wanted her son to burn with her, so they could return together. Rebecca was different. Her spirit was pure and strong..."

"Not every phoenix is the same, I suppose."

"But Rebecca also became a mother. When I met Jenny, I could feel...some of Rebecca."

"So...is the girl a phoenix?"

Sterling shook his head. "A creature like a phoenix can pass as human for almost a century. They don't age hard and they are clever. They have other abilities, too. Some can use fire like a weapon; set fires with their minds, control fire around them. Rebecca had her own gifts. She also had friends."

"What friends?'

"In places high enough to get on my nerves."

"Well, Rebecca left an impression on you. You'll have to tell me that story someday."

"If I get a chance, I'll tell her daughter first. And I can't wait..."

Angelique laid her head against the sofa hand rest and shut her eyes. She did not miss the sound of repressed rage in Sterling's voice. Rebecca Stoddard had managed to hurt Sterling somehow. Sterling was not the type to forgive his pride being injured.

Angelique did not envy the woman who crossed Sterling.

Angelique later asked Sterling if she could go for a walk after midnight. He gave his permission, but preferred she use her cat form until she was a mile away from the inn.

Eagle Hill cemetery remained unchanged for the last two hundred years, the stone walls and fencing periodically restored. The night was hot and still. Angelique walked in the dark wearing her long blue dress, her footsteps the only sound besides the crickets. She had pinned her hair up, a few loose tresses sticking to her neck. The summer heat reminded her of Martinique, but there was no sea to swim in, just the crashing waves at Widow's Hill.

She entered the cemetery's arched entrance, seeking her own grave. She walked past the old headstones and monuments, the Collins family crypt in the distance. She looked down at her own tombstone, the engraving fading with the centuries. The time she had spent in the desert Hell had not burned away the feelings of betrayal and abandonment by Barnabas.

He told me he had loved me, she thought, but he could never forgive me. And I know he could never love _all_ of me.

She crouched down behind the tombstone and started digging with a spoon she brought with her. She kept going until she tapped against something hard. She continued to dig until she saw what she had buried there almost a decade ago, when she was Cassandra.

The box was made of wood, in the shape of a little coffin. She held it between her dirty hands. She grinned, amazed that so many of her things had survived. She removed the lid from the coffin box, pleased to see that the contents had not been disturbed.

A blue antique bottle, no longer than her finger. The cork stopper had remained intact. She gave the bottle a little shake, knowing she could easily refresh the poisons inside.

She was filling the hole with the surrounding dirt, the box next to her, when she heard a faint pulsing sound. At first, she thought someone had drove by the cemetery gates, playing the radio too loud. However, in seconds, the sound grew, a heartbeat in her head.

_Thump...thump...thump-thump_.

She stepped away from her tombstone, the ground throbbing beneath her feet. She bent down, placing her hand on the earth facing the stone, feeling his energy come up her arm. She was confused at first, then realized Barnabas was there, in her grave. She chuckled, pushing a lock of blonde hair off her forehead.

You told me you loved me, she thought. You are once again undead. I can help you. Sterling has offered me freedom, but without my powers. Sterling takes what he wants, he always does, too proud to surrender. Too proud to love. Jenny Baker is still a child, but Sterling can't have the daughter if her father dies first as a boy. She will be trapped in this time, so Sterling could still have what he wants. And Collinwood will burn.

Angelique had no intention of telling Sterling. This was her secret.

I will wake Barnabas when I'm ready, she thought. But only until after I've given Sterling what he wants. I'll have no powers, but I can still raise Barnabas, and we can be together forever.

The sound of his heartbeat still in her ears, she gathered up the box with the bottle inside. She exited the cemetery, the night's peace uninterrupted. She was preoccupied by Barnabas being so near, she did not sense she was being followed. She returned to the inn, going upstairs without being noticed.

Adam had stayed near the inn. He saw Angelique enter, the box in her arms. He had hidden in the trees across the street. He recognized her right away; however, he did not enter the inn. Instead, he walked back home.

Collinsport, 2015

Gerry was driving Daphne home from a late dinner.

"Ruth told me Jim Collins came to see you today," he said.

Ruth, their elderly neighbor, never missed a thing. She spent her days looking out of her front window when she was not trying to get Emma or Kimber to mow her lawn for free.

"Yes. He visited for a while," Daphne said.

"I'm not worried. He's probably gay."

"What?'

"My dad used to say that was why Roger Collins couldn't keep a wife; he would lose interest."

"Enough, Gerry. Jim isn't gay, but you have nothing to worry about."

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

"Hello?"

"Daphne, this is Jim. Is there any way you can come to Collinwood as soon as possible?"

"Sure." She pulled the phone away, turning her head towards Gerry. "I need to go to Collinwood."

"Why?" Gerry asked.

"Jim will tell us when we get there."

Gerry sighed and made a U-turn in the road, heading for the estate.

Lucas and Tony were already at Collinwood, Tony parking his vehicle as Gerry and Daphne arrived. They met in the driveway while walking to the door.

"I was sorry to hear about Maggie's accident," Daphne said.

"Grandma took the day off today," Lucas said. "Her back feels better, so she came over to tell Ms. Stoddard about what she saw."

"What did she see?'

"You'll find out. She wanted to tell us all."

They entered the great house to the foyer. Carolyn called for them to come to the drawing room.

Maggie was at the sofa, Carolyn seated close by. Quentin and Julia sat by the fireplace.

"I wanted all of you here," Maggie said, "because we all need to be careful around Sterling Gift."

She explained her experience in the cannery parking lot. "One minute I was seeing him across the street, then he was right behind my car. He must have _flown_. This man scares me. And why do I think he has something to do with Jenna's disappearance?"

"I believe you, Maggie," Carolyn said. "From the minute I met him, I knew there was something fake about him. I had my lawyer try to find something and don't you know? A website for Morning Star, featuring a story on the success of its owner, Sterling Gift. A birthdate and a Social Security number. Before, nothing could be found with a Google search. Now, he's all over the internet."

"He's still at the Collinsport Inn," Tony said. "Dawn has been seen there. I checked with the owner, an old friend of mine, about Sterling Gift and he told me he had seen Dawn several times going upstairs. He did not follow her, but Gift is one of the few long−term guests staying at the inn."

"If Dawn knows Sterling," Carolyn said, "she'll deny it if asked. And how would she know him?"

"Maybe he did business with Paul?" Tony asked.

"I have the feeling Sterling wanted to know more about my family than I could know about him."

"Con man."

"He's worse," Daphne said. "I haven't had any contact with him but, from what Maggie said, his energy is dark. Keep away from him, Carolyn. Don't let him in the house. I can't shake this feeling that he wants to hurt you and your family. Make you lose everything..."

"What can I do?" Carolyn asked.

"More security," Tony said. "If Jenna was kidnapped, you could be next."

"There's FBI agents hanging around," Quentin said. "No one is getting in this house without being noticed."

"Don't underestimate him," Daphne said. "If he wants to enter this house, he will. His will is his greatest strength. And weakness."

### Chapter Twenty

I received Quentin's messages. He didn't insult me by introducing himself as his own son. I appreciated his honesty. However, I don't appreciate being called home.

I contacted a friend of mine, an anthropology professor at Emerson College who studies secret societies and is aware of the Leviathans. He has a copy of the same text owned by Professor Stokes. I believe Stokes hid his copy, not burned it, because he was the only one who knew how to get rid of Sterling in 1975. I am sure the same solution could apply now, and Quentin and the others need to know. I talked my friend into letting me borrow his copy to study, along with his clumsy translations of some of the text from Olde English. This part of the book was added centuries later to my friend's edition.

I have my train ticket for Collinsport, my bags packed. Tomorrow morning, I take the same journey as my old governess Victoria, to vanquish another curse.

"Julia, do you think you could help me get into the west wing?" Quentin asked.

They were alone in the foyer at Collinwood, everyone else distracted.

"I could," she said, "but you may want to wait until later after Carolyn has gone to bed. Why do you need to go there?"

"I think I can find something to protect you from demons. You mentioned that when Barnabas's so-called ghost came to you, you smelled sulfur."

"Yes?"

"Demonic energy is sometimes accompanied by strong smells. I would like to search my old room for some books and some...protective objects."

"Something to ward off demons?" Julia asked.

"Oh, yes. You know, I spent many years studying the occult and the unknown before I was cursed. I spent some time in Egypt. Just recently, I renewed my interest in the paranormal."

"The deeper mysteries have always fascinated you."

"And nothing much has changed. I studied Satanism, but then I went for years not even believing in the devil. I believed good and evil were like yin and yang, one could not exist without the other. I thought I had it figured out, then I moved into the wrong house..."

"Was the house haunted?'

He nodded. "I ended up buying a house once owned by my old friend Evan Handley. A beautiful, three-story Victorian in Vermont. Evan had been dead for decades, but he bought the house years before I met him. I later found out the house had been a magnet for other devil worshippers and black magic types. That house was a black hole, worse than Collinwood could ever be. I never slept one peaceful night in there. When I did sleep, I had nightmares. I'd wake up screaming. The neighbors called the police, worried for me. One of those neighbors, an elderly woman who had lived in the area since she was born, stopped by one day. She remembered her parents talking about Handley and meeting some of the owners that followed. The house had always been a stand-out because of its size and beauty. The place was over seventy years old when I moved in. But too much had gone on. The first owner, a doctor, never moved in, so Handley bought the place. When he died, his nephew Calvin inherited. Calvin was also a Satanist, buddies with guys like Aleister Crowley. A real party-house. Women could be heard laughing and screaming. The neighbors complained. Calvin built a tall wooden fence. Then he disappeared. Anyway, my elderly neighbor suggested I move out. Instead, I started studying demonology."

"Were there demons in your house?"

"Yes. Well, an energy I would consider demonic. Most likely, the energy was invited during a ritual and stayed. I could tell when he was ready to appear because the sulfur smell was strong. Like charcoal burning."

"Did this demon have a name?"

"Domeeno. That was the name he left using my dog's blood on the mirror in the parlor. Come to find out, he has a brother named Drago who serves Satan. Domeeno has always been jealous. But during my friendship with Handley, he gave me the gift of a small mirror that only reflects the image of demons. That mirror could still be in my old room, where I left it."

"Do you still own the house?"

"Yes. I couldn't sell it to anyone in good conscience."

"Maybe you should take your mirror there."

"I have to find it first. And I think it's just the thing to solve your problem."

Quentin found himself in the west wing after midnight. The hall no longer resembled the clean, quiet area he had lived in as a young man, the paintings and statuary long gone, replaced by discarded furniture and cobwebs. In the 1960s, when he came home, the west wing had remained closed off since his 'death'−the death that would have occurred if Barnabas and Julia had not intervened. He would have ended up a corpse moldering in his study for seventy years until David Collins and Amy Jennings found him in his sealed off room. Poor Beth Chavez had shot him in a fit of jealousy.

Quentin held a flashlight, illuminating the walls. So much dark space. The silence was oppressive.

The light touched on his old phonograph and he took a step back.

The young man who owned that phonograph, he thought, was selfish and cruel. A bully. Immature pleasure−seeker. If I met him, I wouldn't like him.

Quentin continued his walk to his old room, trying to keep the memories from interrupting his search. The hallway remained hot and stuffy from the day's heat. Quentin wiped the sweat from his forehead with his free hand.

The light shined on the threshold to his room, the bricked-up doorway removed. He stepped in, glanced at the old armoire, his bed and dresser long gone. He found the area that led to his old study.

Quentin found his desk, covered in a grimy layer of dust. He pulled at the warped, sticking drawers, letters and other papers yellowed with time, a few insects having taken residence. He came across an unlocked trunk he hadn't thought about in decades. He flipped it open, expecting to find mementos from his travels, including Egypt. Instead, he found some rare books, his journals. A fading photograph of his nephew Jamison.

Dear boy, Quentin thought. Rest in peace.

Quentin sat in his old chair, the leather cracked, the wood creaking under his weight. He turned off the flashlight, thinking in the dark.

He had been in this room when Handley gave him the star-shaped mirror, the silver frame featured carved designs that Handley not Quentin could identify.

"I bought it in Algiers," Handley said. "From a merchant who deals in arcane items."

Quentin held the mirror up to his face. "No reflection. It's not a mirror, Handley."

"Oh, no. Not for humans. The glass only reflects demons."

"Demons?" Quentin chuckled. "Some would say I should be seeing my own face in this mirror."

Handley grinned. "Maybe so. But I mean true demons, those that follow Lucifer."

"An exorcist would have use for this."

"That's all right. You hang on to it, Quentin. Maybe you will need it someday."

"How come you don't want it?"

Handley shrugged. "I don't need it. Besides, if a demon wants to be noticed, they know how to get attention."

How right he was, Quentin thought. But they like to be invited and someone has brought a demon to Collinwood.

The books. The hollow ones, more like boxes. Where did I keep those?

Quentin had always been a reader. He had hidden secret correspondence and small possessions in boxes that looked like leather-bound volumes. One of these had 'Holy Bible' inscribed on the cover and spine. Quentin recalled that he kept it in his nightstand by his bed.

The nightstand was no longer in the room. He searched the nearby hallway, his flashlight illuminating each piece of furniture until he found the phonograph, supported by his old nightstand.

He pulled at the top drawer, stifling a sneeze from the dust. He knew the chances of the mirror remaining in the nightstand after almost one hundred and twenty years were slim, but he had nothing to lose. He reached for the bottom drawer when he heard a clicking noise by his ear. The phonograph started, the mechanism running as smooth as the day it was delivered to Collinwood. He stepped back, the violin music, once his favorite, filling the hall. He hoped no one else could hear.

Quentin took a deep breath, returning to the drawer that stuck as he pulled. The air had become cold, he could feel it on his face and arms. He continued his search, the light soon shining on the words 'Holy Bible' stitched in gold on the fake book cover. With the phonograph continuing to play, Quentin pulled out the worn box. The cover almost fell off. Quentin rested the box next to the phonograph, pointing his flashlight into the hollow space.

A few cigars, the tobacco scattered, along with a pair of tarnished cufflinks and a watchchain without a watch. The light revealed the mirror, looking just as it did when Handley placed it in Quentin's palm. The symbols remained baffling. Quentin gripped the mirror, turning the glass up to his face. No reflection; the mirror's surface like water, no scratches or worn edges.

The music had stopped, but Quentin did not notice. The cold had subsided.

"Quentin?"

A woman's whisper. He looked up. Julia was steps away, in her robe and slippers.

"Carolyn can't sleep. I saw her go downstairs."

Quentin nodded. He put the box back in the drawer, placing the mirror in his jeans pocket. He exited with Julia, locking the double doors behind him.

"I hope Carolyn didn't hear the music," he said.

"What music?" Julia asked.

"My old phonograph started playing on its own. Didn't you hear it?"

"No. I'm surprised your phonograph still works"

### Chapter Twenty-One

Dawn had remained in her room at Collinwood for the evening. Her husband was on her mind, not Sterling or Drago or her own internal demons.

Paul's flight was due to arrive by morning. He was going to want answers.

Sterling admitted to nothing, but Dawn had not asked about the housefire because she already knew the answer.

The devil always comes to collect, she thought. I had forty years of freedom without my powers and that was long enough.

She had not returned to Rose Cottage for any more spells. She hid her spell−books and other tools. She was waiting for when Sterling would make his move.

Dawn could feel Drago's presence. The demon had given her pleasure in the guise of Barnabas. She planned to send him to Julia again, for no reason than to keep unnerving the woman until she snapped.

Wouldn't it be satisfying to see Julia a delusional wreck in some state institution? Dawn thought. No Windcliff for her, the place has been closed for years. I have seen things that would make any cool−headed psychiatrist insane, and Julia Hoffman is no exception. The best people have a dark side. Sterling can make anyone pull the trigger.

_Angelique_...

Go to her, demon. Make her dreams nightmares.

Quentin had remained in the hallway near Dawn's room. Julia had gone to bed. Carolyn was downstairs, back in the drawing room, her phone next to her.

Quentin leaned against the wall, scratching his beard. He was unsure why he was in the hall; he could go to bed, he was tired. The mirror pressed against him through his rear pocket. He found himself staring at Dawn's bedroom door.

Quentin was smothering a yawn when he detected the smell of sulfur. He reached for the mirror and waited. The door opened and Dawn, covered in a robe, emerged. Her eyes widened at his presence. Quentin stepped forward, pushing her aside, and entered her room.

"What do you think you're doing?"

They both heard the growling, deep and rumbling. The smell was getting stronger. At the foot of the bed, Quentin took in the swirling black cloud, the color of ink. Quentin was reminded of Domeeno.

"Drago," Quentin said, "your brother sends his regards."

Dawn became silent. Quentin held the mirror, each finger between a point in the star, up to the cloud.

Drago transformed into the image of Barnabas in seconds. Quentin and Dawn could not see what Drago saw in the glass, but the demon screamed a high, keening wail. Barnabas's image disappeared. The open bedroom window exploded, glass shattering all over the carpet and bed.

Quentin lowered the mirror. Dawn took a deep breath. He turned to her and realized who she was.

"Angelique," he said, "you've been a bad girl."

Collinsport, 1975

Sterling could enter any house he fancied but, to maintain authenticity, he knocked at the main door to Collinwood.

He and Jenna had a date, but he had also come for another reason. The little bottle containing Angelique's poison rested in the inside pocket of his corduroy jacket.

Mrs. Johnson let him in, chatting for a moment about his photography and his sudden friendship with Jenny Baker. The woman seemed fond of her, but the girl had that effect on people.

"Mrs. Johnson," Sterling said, "I have a bit of a headache. Would there be any aspirin around?"

"I have some in the kitchen. I can get you some water."

"No, please. You can just direct me to the kitchen."

Sterling soon found himself there, opening one cupboard after another. He came upon the sugar bowl, a green ceramic dish with a matching lid.

He rested the bowl on the counter. He had to be quick, the housekeeper might check on him. He uncorked the poison, shaking the powder liberally at the top. He used his finger to mix the powder and sugar. He put the dish back in the cupboard, brushing any sugar off the counter. The bottle was back in his pocket. He took a breath, a grin on his face. The girl would be his, dead or alive.

She is falling for me, he thought. The rest will be easy.

"I thought we were going to eat," Jenna said. "I'm hungry."

"I'd like to talk to you alone first," Sterling said. "Only for a minute..."

Sterling parked his rented car and Jenna followed him to the wooden steps up Widow's Hill. When they reached the top, Sterling was ahead of her. She could hear the waves crashing on the rocks below. She hoped David, who had promised to follow in twenty minutes after she and Sterling left Collinwood, would figure out fast that they had not gone directly to The Eagle.

Sterling looked out at the water and the encroaching sunset, burning off the warm day. "I need to ask you...do you trust me?"

"I haven't known you for very long, but you haven't done anything to make me distrust you."

"Should I trust _you_?"

"As long as I am honest with you, why not?"

"Do you think I am an honest person?" he asked.

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Would you still want to know me?"

"We keep answering questions with questions," Jenna said. "What are you hiding?"

"I think you know."

"I don't know."

"Now who is the liar?"

Jenna took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"Jenny Baker does not exist. Jenna Stoddard came from the future. Forty years. And why?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you can't tell me the truth, then keep your mouth shut. I'll take you home."

He started to walk away.

"How did you know, Sterling?"

"Time means nothing to me. And it will mean nothing to you."

He was swift, grabbing her by the arms, raising her wrists above her head. Later, Jenna would wonder if they had _flown_ to the cliff's edge. She was off the ground, her feet dangling. She looked up into Sterling's eyes, his gaze glowing red. "Death is just a transition..."

"Sterling, please! I'm sorry!"

She had found the courage to speak, although dusk was at her back, Sterling in her face, and the rocks below.

"One way or the other, you belong to me."

Sterling's grip did not let up, her neck and shoulders aching. She could feel herself swaying in the wind.

He could drop me, she thought. I would end up like my grandfather Jeb, broken on the rocks. And Sterling could take my soul. I've been such a fool...

"What can I do?" she asked.

Sterling's gaze became cool. He raised her by the wrists, pulling her from the cliff. In seconds, she was standing on the ground. She almost fell, her legs shaking, sweat cold on her skin. He turned on his heel, walking away.

"Sterling! What do you want from me?"

"I want you to exist only for me. Otherwise, you are nothing."

"But how can I?"

"Walk yourself home. While you're walking, think about what I am and what I can do."

Jenna stayed still, shivering, her cheeks wet from her terrified sobs. She took several deep breaths as Sterling kept on walking. She waited until she was sure he had drove away before she approached the wooden steps.

She had walked across the empty parking lot, thinking about how to get back to Collinwood, when David pulled up in his car. She opened the passenger side door and entered.

"I didn't see you at The Eagle," David said. "I was coming back when I saw Sterling pulling out of here. What happened?"

Jenna shook her head. She was trembling. David reached over, but she recoiled at the sight of his hand.

"Did he hurt you? That filthy creep!"

"No. Not like that. I'll explain on the way."

David and Jenna returned to Collinwood. David made a fire in the drawing room. Jenna sat close by. He covered her in a crocheted afghan.

"He was like another person," Jenna said. "Evil..."

David patted her shoulder. "I'm going to call the Professor. I think he knows more about Sterling than he's letting on..."

"I saw his eyes turn red. Like a demon. And he knows I'm from the future. He wants to own me. Why?"

"He wants to control us all by controlling your fate," David said.

"How do you outsmart the devil?" Jenna asked.

"Even the devil can't be right all of the time."

David went to the telephone in the corner of the drawing room. He chatted with the professor while Jenna tried to relax, looking into the fire. She breathed deep, letting her gaze stay on the flames. David's voice seemed far away, then replaced by another.

" _Jenna...listen to me...take the demon out of his body...make him bleed..._ "

Jenna had to choke off her gasp, her lips sealed tight.

" _If he is mortally wounded, he has to go home..._ "

"The professor wants us to come over," David said.

Jenna snapped her gaze away from the fire.

"We need to tell Stokes everything," she said. "He's the only one who understands."

### Chapter Twenty-Two

"We've been watching Sterling," Stokes said. "Don't you worry; no one stays a stranger in Collinsport for long."

Stokes explained, with Adam close by, their findings about Sterling and Angelique.

"Angelique is easy to recognize," Stokes continued. "No doubt she would want to change her form."

"The night clerk at the Collinsport Inn said Sterling Grace checked in with a cat in a carrier," Adam said.

"Angelique in another disguise," Stokes said.

Jenna and David sat at the sofa, the professor in his chair. He had finished his snack of a few pieces of cheese, the plate next to him. Adam had resumed his place in a chair at the professor's desk.

"How do we get rid of them?" David asked.

Stokes sighed. "First, we need to understand what they want..."

"They want to destroy my family," David said. "Angelique tried on her own, but now she has this...demon to help her."

Stokes shook his head. "Sterling is more powerful than any demon. He was once an angel."

"Lucifer?" Jenna asked.

"When he was holding you over the cliff, what did you see in his eyes?"

"Red. Like blood. Rage. Anguish."

"Can you imagine anguish in Heaven?"

"I read _Paradise Lost_." Jenna shook her head. "Sorry. Stupid of me..."

"Not at all, young lady. A nuclear missile couldn't compare to the power of our own universe, the _will_ behind it. There's so much we don't know and there are others who have taken advantage. Not just Sterling. Have you explained the Leviathans to Jenna, David?"

"What I know," David said.

Stokes nodded. "Your grandfather Jeb was a _gift_ from the Leviathans, Jenna."

"More like a curse," Jenna said. "Considering the pain Jeb Hawkes caused so many."

"He was a force of nature."

"Whose nature?"

Stokes chuckled. "You're very perceptive. You remind me of your great-grandmother. Elizabeth has brains and beauty. So does Carolyn, but you're...more mature at your age."

"She'll grow up more," Jenna said. "Grandma took over the company, made everything last as long as she could, including Collinwood. Dad should be helping her. Of course, he's only a little boy now."

"If Sterling knew you were from 2015," David said, "then he knows what's going to happen now; whether he succeeds or fails. This could be a chance for him to do it over. To change what happens in the future."

"My father! What if he dies?""

"You could cease to exist in your own time," Stokes said. "Extraordinary. You would be stuck here. A lost soul."

"We can't let any harm come to Paul," Jenna said. "The voice from the fire said something about taking Sterling out of his body. Can he die?"

"Some people believe that when we die, our consciousness leaves our bodies, goes through a tunnel to a light. This consciousness could be our souls. Some call this energy a spirit body. But the capabilities of spirit energy are still unknown."

"But Sterling looks like flesh and blood to me," Jenna said.

"Maybe a serious wound could slow him down," David said.

"Don't go after him alone."

The professor rubbed his tired eyes with his fingertips. "She's right, David. Especially if Angelique is his friend. She's done enough damage to your family."

"She's doing a good job hiding," Adam said. "I haven't seen her come out of the inn for days. The housekeepers don't even know she's there."

"And why would she be wandering in the cemetery?"

Adam remained silent as David and Jenna continued to speak to the professor. Adam rose from his chair and caught David's eye. Adam motioned his head towards the kitchen. In minutes, David was next to Adam at the kitchen stove, where Adam had put the kettle on for tea.

Adam kept his voice low. "I think Angelique knows Barnabas is in her grave. And if she knows, so could Sterling."

"Stokes can't really believe Sterling is Lucifer."

"I believe he is evil and needs to be stopped. But Angelique will not just ignore Barnabas if she can awaken him. And Sterling must know this as well."

"Did you tell Stokes?"

"No. Do you think we should?'

"Not yet. We should focus on dealing with Sterling."

"How did Sterling act in the house? Who did he speak to?"

"Just Jenna. And Mrs. Johnson. I stayed upstairs on purpose. Jenna didn't think he would harm her. Then he almost dropped her off Widow's Hill. My biggest fear is he won't give up until we're all terrified. I want him gone before Aunt Elizabeth and Carolyn get home."

"Keep the boy close to you. Don't let Sterling into Collinwood again." The kettle started to whistle, Adam pouring the water into cups. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if he could just let himself in."

Paul Stoddard liked sugar on his morning cereal, but Mrs. Johnson had been told not to give him too much. However, that morning, Paul wanted something different.

"Cinn-mon toast," he said.

Mrs. Johnson sighed. Jenna was upstairs and the boy had come down in his pajamas alone. She put a slice of Wonder bread in the toaster, putting the butter, cinnamon, and sugar on the counter. She poured him a small glass of milk. The toast popped up, and Mrs. Johnson buttered the toast before sprinkling the sugar from the green dish, followed by a thin layer of cinnamon. She placed the toast in a plate in front of Paul, along with the glass of milk. He held his breakfast in both hands, taking a big bite. He chewed for a moment, then a sour look crossed his face. He spit the bread out in his plate.

"Paul Stoddard! What are you doing?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

"Taste bad, Miz Jahson."

"What do you mean?" The elderly housekeeper tore a piece off the corner, placing a morsel in her mouth. Her facial expression soon matched Paul's. She spit it out in a napkin.

"Baking soda," she said. "What's baking soda doing in the sugar?"

"Why did you betray me?" Sterling asked.

Angelique put down the comb she was using on her blonde curls. "What do you mean?"

Sterling grabbed her by the hair, pulling her out of the bathroom. "I don't hear ambulances screeching up the drive to Collinwood! No talk of a dead child!"

Angelique regained her balance as he let go of her. She knew he would figure out that poison had not been in the bottle, but she had a ready explanation. "I couldn't kill the boy and I felt it was a waste of time. After the way you treated Jenna at Widow's Hill."

"You saw that, didn't you?"

Angelique nodded. "She must have already told David. You were at Collinwood, Sterling. If Paul became deathly ill, there would be someone coming here. You've been in custody too many times before and barely escaped. My advice is to wait for Elizabeth and Carolyn to come home. Then destroy them all."

"What do you suggest?"

"Set Collinwood ablaze. I'd love to see it burn to the ground."

Sterling's face broke into a grin. He chuckled. He raised his hands, fingertips resting on Angelique's soft cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the witch knew what was coming. She was trapped.

He whispered, "And don't even think of digging him up."

Sterling's devastating kiss made her lose consciousness, her powers repossessed. Sterling left her on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

He had no intention of returning.

### Chapter Twenty-Three

Collinwood, 1975

David was restless after he and Jenna had returned from the professor's home. They had a late snack in the kitchen, then watched an Evel Knievel TV special with Paul.

The small, but very heavy, television had been brought down from Roger's study to the drawing room. David spent a few minutes adjusting the antenna. "I've asked Father for years to get a TV for downstairs..."

Jenna thought about her grandmother's computer and smart phone and other electronic gadgets at Collinwood. She smiled and shook her head. "Things always change..."

Paul was mesmerized by the daredevil Knievel, who was preparing to jump over a long line of old cars. Knievel was on his bike, ready to climb the ramp that would make him soar. Jenna rose from the sofa and walked to the window.

He's out there, she thought. He won't be able to stay away for long.

David, against Jenna's wishes, went for a walk around the estate. Adam agreed to come around after Roger and Paul went to bed. But Sterling was already at the great house, pacing along the roof. He watched David take his walk, then return inside. Sterling dropped from the roof, landing on the grass, where he had a good view of Paul's bedroom window, open on such a warm, mild night.

Sterling, his long hair stirred by the breeze, raised his two fingers on his right hand. A tiny spark shot from his fingertips, landing on a fat green leaf, hanging from the oak tree just inches from Paul's window. The leaf smoldered and crackled, the flame spreading to one leaf, then another. A curtain from the window moved outward in the breeze, the fabric touching the growing blaze.

Sterling grinned. "Goodnight, little fellow..."

Paul had remained downstairs, watching TV, snuggled in his favorite blanket. Roger had gone off to bed. The phone rang and David answered in the drawing room, the call from Carolyn and Elizabeth. Paul heard David say his mother's name and he tore himself from the TV.

"I wanna talk to Mumma!"

"Hang on, Paul." David tried to continue his conversation with his cousin and Aunt Elizabeth. "You're coming home tomorrow?"

Jenna turned her head at the words. David shrugged. "You don't have to. Everything is fine."

"I wanna talk to Mumma, David!"

He placed the receiver to the boy's ear. "Hi, Mumma! Love you."

Carolyn's voice could be heard on the other end. "I love you, too, you rascal. Be good for Uncle Roger and David."

"Okay, Mumma."

"I'll be home soon."

Roger had not dreamed of his ex-wife Laura in a long time. Her baffling presence in his life had been hard to forget, but the sound of her voice was clear, as if she were sleeping next to him again.

"Roger..."

"Go away, wretched woman!"

Laura had a pretty face and a lively, intelligent gaze. She was surrounded by flames, her voice a firm command.

"Roger...the great house will burn...you will perish. Awaken now..."

"David..."

"He will be with me in the flames. We will rise together...again and again..."

Roger's eyes snapped open. He was trembling and wet with sweat. He pulled back the sheet, his pajamas sticking to his skin. He smelled smoke. He ran for the door, a cloud passing underneath. The doorknob was warm as he grasped and turned, ready to face the blaze.

"David! Where's Paul!?"

Roger ran into the drawing room. He had been coughing, his eyes red. He saw the boy wrapped in a blanket on the couch.

"What's wrong, Father?"

Roger tried to take a deep breath but started coughing again. "There's a fire upstairs."

David could smell the smoke on his father's pajamas. "Upstairs? Where upstairs?"

"Paul's room, I think. We have to get outside."

David had already reached the corner phone. The line was dead.

Jenna had gathered up Paul, following Roger to the foyer. She exchanged worried looks with David, who had slammed down the receiver.

"Oh, my God," Roger said.

They all looked up at the staircase, smoke billowing to the ceiling, spreading to the stained-glass windows.

Paul started to squirm, now awake in Jenna's arms. Roger had already opened the door and they all followed into the night.

The weather was on Sterling's side. The dry air along with a breeze had fanned the fire, smoke clouds now emerging from Paul's window, the flames attempting to burn through the stone of Collinwood.

Roger shook his head at the blaze. "Two hundred years, now it burns..."

David had taken his car into town to find a phone. As he got on the road, he passed Adam and Stokes in the professor's old sedan.

The men did not notice Angelique walking across the field to Collinwood, using the old path she had taken many times to the old house.

Jenna was standing with Roger and Paul a good distance down the driveway.

"I can't get my toys?" Paul asked.

"We can't go in the house," Jenna said. "We have to wait for the fire trucks."

Paul stayed still, trying to be good, but his three-year-old mind was spinning. His life was in the great house; his clothes, toys, and the people who loved him. Jenna patted his shoulder. "You'll be all right, Paul. But you need to be brave. Stay by Uncle Roger."

Roger took the boy's hand. "Don't cry, little one. We're safe." He looked to Jenna. "Two hundred years is good."

"The fire might not be so bad," she said. "The fire trucks will be here soon."

She looked up at the roof, her gaze stopping at a long, lean figure through the smoke.

He's up there, she thought, and I can't stop him.

Sterling glided through the clouds of smoke to the ground on the other side of the great house. He considered his options for further destruction. The enormous chimney could fall, the bricks descending like dominoes. He raised his hands, taking a deep breath, creating tiny cracks in the antique structure, his eyes open, a boyish grin on his face. He had once made castles burn and fortresses turn to ashes. He had eliminated whole armies using plague, great cities buried in the sea.

Sterling's hands were still above his head, palms up. His red eyes reflected the flames as he watched the chimney rock, several bricks falling. He was so entranced by his display of power that he did not hear or see the figure behind him. Sterling was deaf to the sound of the descending ax blade that sliced into the side of his neck. The blade was pulled out as Sterling staggered to the left, turning his head.

Adam raised the ax again, burying the blade in Sterling's throat. Sterling managed to speak. "You exist...because of me. Your lifeforce is mine. The vampire had no part in it."

Adam kept the blade in Sterling's throat, under the chin. "You're telling me I am the Devil's son?"

Sterling let out a strangled chuckle. "When you die, you will belong to me."

Adam pulled the blade away, flesh and blood spattering, ready to take another swing. "See you there, Father."

Angelique, hiding in the trees, observed Adam butchering Sterling. She also saw Jenna coming up the hill, followed by David and Professor Stokes.

The professor gasped. "My God, Adam!"

The man−made creature wiped the blade on the grass. "You said he needed to be out of his body! He's out now!"

Jenna gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Sterling's mangled body, arms and legs pulverized, his head almost separated from the neck, was still. His pale eyes were open, his facial expression serene, his lips ready for a kiss.

A hole opened in the night sky above them. A faint glowing light emerged from the center of Sterling's chest, moving upward. The light took on the shape of a man; head, arms, and legs forming. The others looked up, watching the light from the hole meet Sterling's dark spirit−form, his wings extended, eyes glowing red, his face and naked body milky white.

He looked down at them all. His gaze rested on Jenna and their eyes met. He winked at her before raising his head to the light. The whole opened wide, and he flew head-first. In seconds, he was gone.

The sky became normal, the stars obscured only by the smoke. Fire trucks, followed by Collinsport police, cruised up the driveway to the great house. Soon, water from the firehoses was putting out the blaze.

David ran back to Roger and Paul, with no time to think about what he just witnessed. Adam took his ax and headed back to the professor's vehicle, not wanting to be seen by law enforcement. Stokes would stay behind to help Roger, David, and Paul.

Jenna meant to follow David, but she heard a rustling sound behind her. When she turned around, she caught the long blue skirt and blonde curls in the foliage leading to the woods.

Angelique, she thought. The witch is real.

Jenna ran after her, weaving through the trees. Angelique's figure dodged to the right and Jenna followed. She heard the witch's soft chuckle, growing into laughter. The sound filled Jenna's ears as she continued to run. She reached a small clearing, the stars the only light.

"Jenna?"

She heard Angelique call her name. She looked around, trying to locate the sound. She ran back into the trees. Angelique would call her name twice more, coming from different directions. Growing frustrated and worried about the fire, Jenna decided to run back to the great house.

She stayed on a familiar trail, her head down to watch her step in the dark. She was running at a good pace when she bumped into someone.

"Whoa! Slow down!"

Jenna looked up, taking in the Stiles sisters, who were wearing hoodies and jeans. They stared back at her retreating figure, her back to them as she continued to run.

"Welcome home, Jenna," Kimber said. "Everyone has been looking for you."

### Chapter Twenty-Four

Quentin sat at Dawn's bed, waiting for her to speak.

"Start talking," he said. "The noise alone from Drago smashing that window is going to send everyone in here."

Dawn sighed. "He always goes too far when he loses his patience..."

The voice Quentin heard from Dawn's lips had changed. Angelique was speaking through her; the witch's slight drawl hidden underneath a careful diction.

Quentin grinned, tilting his head to one side. "It's good to hear from you, Angelique. Couldn't stay away, could you?"

Dawn left the door and seated herself on a chair against the wall. "I stayed gone for decades. No powers, but I took care of myself. I lived in California and met other witches. When I was ready to change, they helped me. I found a young woman and claimed her body. You're looking at her. Pretty, isn't she?"

"I know the story of how you met and married Paul Stoddard. Right after Rebecca's disappearance. Convenient..."

"Yes. Things were going my way. Until now..."

"Your house burned down. What a pity."

She nodded. "The air is dry in California."

"And where there's smoke, there's fire. Kind of describes Sterling Gift, doesn't it?"

Angelique grinned. "I remember those times when you and Evan Handley would try to conjure spirits, including the Prince of Darkness. Now, he's in town on his own steam, and you have every reason to be afraid."

"You're afraid, too. Tell me, when you married Paul and were living here, you were never tempted to seek out Barnabas?"

"He wasn't here."

"Oh, yes, he was."

They heard footsteps in the hallway. Carolyn entered, followed by Julia. Both women were in robes and slippers.

"I heard glass breaking," Carolyn said.

"Maybe you should call your security man," Quentin said. "Too many people have been on the property, someone might try to break in..."

Carolyn sighed. "The FBI and police were supposed to help with security. I'll call Mr. Mays."

Carolyn went downstairs to find her cell phone, Julia remaining in the room. She looked to Quentin, then Dawn.

"Glass is all over the floor," Julia said. "Whoever was here wanted out, not in. Took part of the wall and the drapes with him." She kept her bright gaze on Dawn. "You're very lucky Carolyn is too tired to notice these things. You might want to clean up before security gets here."

Dawn remained silent as Quentin followed Julia out. At the threshold, he turned around. "I can only guess what Sterling wants you to do in return for his protection, but you've always made choices for your self−interest. I was just as selfish once, and I learned that you end up with nothing but memories of the pain you caused. Quit chasing your tail and help us stop him."

### *****

Angelique knew, with some effort, she could find Barnabas. Her powers were intact and strong as ever, unlike when she lived with Paul at Collinwood years ago. She had been waiting for the right time and now, with Sterling once again losing control, she had the perfect opportunity.

Angelique, through the years, had managed to keep a few things with her from her early days at Collinwood. As Josette's lady's maid, she had coveted many of Josette's possessions, especially her clothes and jewelry. When Josette died, Angelique had looked through Josette's jewelry boxes and found a special pair of earrings.

Diamonds. Two perfect tear-drop earrings.

I took those jewels before her aunt could find them, Angelique thought. Andre wanted Josette to wear the diamonds in her coffin, but her body and face had been broken on the rocks.

Angelique felt remorse for many things, but her bitterness remained for those years. If she had not dealt with heartache at such a young age, maybe her life would have been different. She would have married someone else, lived out her life on Martinique. Instead, she had lived centuries in darkness, a student of evil, roaming from one Hell to the next.

She was sick of her earthly life. She could no longer fool herself into thinking creatures like Sterling could be trusted. Her life with Paul had come to an end, she wanted out. But the only way out was back−back to Barnabas.

She had brought the earrings with her, thinking she could sell the jewels if she decided to leave Paul. She opened her carry−on bag while sitting at her bed, having kept the diamonds close to her on the plane from California.

Josette's teardrops were about two inches tall, attached to silver posts shaped like rosettes. The diamonds' clarity was startling, capturing the colors around it, creating a prism. In the palms of both hands, the diamonds made Angelique's skin look creamy, pink as a baby.

Angelique could feel the energy each diamond released. She knew these diamonds were special from the minute Josette had placed the gems in her hand. Josette let Angelique put the jewels on each ear, the diamonds swinging as she turned her head. Josette handed her a mirror and both young women were dumbstruck at the young witch's reflection.

"You really are beautiful, Angelique..."

I can choose to help this family or watch their destruction, she thought. Barnabas had risked his life many times to protect his descendants. I owe these people nothing, but if I stay and help, Barnabas could vanquish Sterling.

And I only need to do one thing.

She kept an earring in each open palm. She bowed her head, "Hecate...mother of all, sees all, please grant me the power of your vision. Give me sight, give me direction."

Angelique kept her head down. The room grew cold and silent.

"Angelique...angel eyes..."

"Dear mother, please give vision to your devoted servant."

"You serve the demon. He shines like sterling."

"I was seduced. I am only human."

"A human who aspires to control darkness."

"Not control, only to serve."

"Ah, duplicitous witch. You serve yourself, but end up serving a purpose for others, including the old mothers..."

"How can I serve you?"

"I want Sterling out of the earthly world. Just as the man−monster did, Sterling must be torn asunder, taken out of his flesh, back to Hell."

"His power is great, Mother."

"So is his pride. He thinks you are so grateful for the restoration of your power that you would never betray him. You would stand by and watch these people die. What are you willing to sacrifice for true freedom?"

"If I die, will you protect me? I can't go back to the desert..."

"You will rest in peace, in great love in the light."

"You will take me there?"

"I promise. Now, I will lead you to Barnabas, Angel-eyes. Look to your diamonds."

Angelique opened her eyes, just in time to see the diamond tears turn to black.

A woman sobbing.

Josette? she thought.

The gems began to move from side to side in her palms, then turning and spinning from the posts.

A compass, Angelique thought, to Barnabas.

The witch, still in her robe and slippers, walked out of her room and down the hall. If the others discovered her, she did not care. She kept her palms open as she went down the stairs to the foyer. The doors opened for her and she stepped out into the night, ready find Barnabas.

Quentin and Julia had gone to Julia's room, Quentin explaining everything that happened with Dawn and her real identity.

'Why am I not shocked?" Julia asked.

"As long as Barnabas exists in this world," Quentin said, "Angelique will always return."

"And she has her powers back," Julia said. "For her, that is independence. So why would she linger, if not for Barnabas?"

"I'm sure she has a plan."

"David must have been very clever because Dawn couldn't find Barnabas when she lived here with Paul."

"But Angelique didn't have her powers then. Now, nothing can stop her from finding Barnabas on her own."

### Chapter Twenty-Five

Lucas sat alone in his truck, parked on the grounds of Collinwood near the trail where Jenna liked to walk.

One of the FBI agents had told him to leave and Lucas replied with a gesture that would have left everyone he knew shocked. The agent contacted Carolyn, who told him to let Lucas stay. The agent obliged, but not without making Lucas get out of his truck and answer a series of questions. When the agent departed Lucas returned inside his truck. He reached for his coffee, finding the paper cup empty. He looked up at the crescent in the night sky, not feeling much comfort.

He had met with Quentin last night at the ruins of Rose Cottage. They had a long discussion about the werewolf curse. Quentin was sympathetic but could offer no solution. He told Lucas that a transformation into a werewolf could occur without a full moon. In Quentin's case, one curse had been exchanged for another; Lucas had been dumbstruck at Quentin's story of being cursed with immortality from a portrait painted in 1897. Lucas could have questioned Quentin's sanity, but then he would have to question his own. However, he did feel some relief from sharing his problem with Daphne and Quentin.

I am not crazy, he thought. Just cursed. How many more people are out there like me? How can I tell my grandparents or Jenna−if she comes home?

Lucas's cell phone chimed. He grabbed it from the dashboard. "Hello?"

"Lucas? Daphne here. Kimber just called me. She saw Jenna in the woods behind Collinwood. The girls spoke to her, but she kept running."

"Was she okay?"

"I guess so. She's heading for home."

"Oh, my God. Um...I'll get over to the house to let Ms. Stoddard know."

"Right. But Sterling isn't done with her or Jenna. The story Quentin told me about Julia Hoffman seeing the family gunned down won't leave me. Sterling is so powerful, it's terrifying."

"I'm sure Ms. Stoddard understands. There's FBI agents around, more security..."

"You don't get it. Only a monster can take down a monster."

"Forget it! I would have to change, and I can't control it."

"You'll have help, Lucas."

Lucas had turned on his truck's headlights. The phone was still at his ear when he saw a figure running up the trail. Lucas could make out the dark hair and the way her hips would swing as she ran.

"I see her! I'll get her home and we'll tell them what you told me, Daphne."

He hung up before she could reply. He jumped out of the truck, intending to meet Jenna, who was just yards away.

The transformation was quick, the pain making him fall at her feet. He looked up and Jenna saw his face change, the bones crack and skin stretch. Jenna took a step back, too shocked to scream. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then broke into a run, going past him, heading for the truck. Lucas had left the vehicle running. She entered, locking the doors. When she looked ahead of her, Lucas was gone. Her trembling hand put the truck in drive, the great house a half−mile away.

### *****

Angelique continued to follow her compass; the earrings taking her off the grounds of Collinwood, up the main road, going towards town.

The witch was at a loss; she had no idea where she was being led. The breeze blew through her robe, tiny pebbles had gathered in her slippers, between her toes.

Her journey had been uneventful; a few vehicles passed but did not stop. The only sounds were crickets and her footsteps.

The howling was distant but clear. Angelique stopped for a moment, looking up at the crescent moon.

Maggie's grandson may never transform back, she thought. He's lost control, another monster on the loose in Collinsport.

She continued her walk. She approached the cannery. The night shift was in full swing, the parking lot full.

The cannery building, the business going back to the 1920s, consisted of two parts. The original, older section was now used for storage. The newer section, built in the 1950s, was used for production. These two sections were joined, but the working section was the only area that featured any kind of electronic security, including cameras.

Angelique cut through the parking lot, the jewels still glowing with activity. She walked towards the original section and the earrings started to spin again.

She found the back entrance. The area was quiet, grass and weeds overgrown. She heard the bolt-lock slide back on the door. A light came on overhead. Hecate had been her guide this far, so Angelique knew it wise to continue.

The metal door opened outward. She entered, the jewels guiding her down the dusty hall, the light dim. The beige paint was peeling, cobwebs in the corners. She reached a set of metal stairs. As she took each step down, she wondered where Barnabas could be. David would have had to be very clever to find a place here, where the vampire would remain undiscovered for fifteen years.

Angelique went into the basement, this area smelling of dead mice and mildew. Mold crawled up the walls, obstructed by rust−covered equipment, pieces from the fishing boats used decades ago. The diamonds continued to guide her, lights coming on in different places during her walk.

She must have walked for almost a mile in the cold, dank area. She was starting to worry until another door could be seen, secured with a thick padlock.

Angelique put the earrings in a pocket, both hands to hovering over the lock. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The lock gave with a heavy groan, metal snapping. Angelique removed the lock and pushed open the heavy door. She dropped the lock to the floor, retrieving the earrings from her pocket. She stepped through to an outdoor area, close to the water. She could hear the waves crashing.

She realized she was in a cove. Partially man−made, but the round rock formation above her head was a natural occurrence. She stepped away from the door. The earrings were clutched in her right palm. The night air was warm compared to the cold basement. Her feet, still covered by slippers, brushed against sand.

She was still looking out at the water when she heard the pulsing sound, the throbbing moving from her feet up to her legs.

Thump-thump...thump-thump...

Barnabas...

He is right under my feet...

She removed her dirty slippers; she did this task one-handed, the other still holding the diamonds. When she glanced at the gems, the dark glow was gone. However, in seconds, her flesh started to burn. The gems leaped from her palm, dropping just inches from her bare toes.

He is right here, she thought. Buried in the ground.

She needed a shovel, anything to help her dig. She went back inside and found an old snow−shovel. She removed her robe, revealing a short cotton nightgown. She shoved the earrings into a robe pocket. She set to work, digging in the spot where the diamonds had landed.

Angelique continued to dig, the sand becoming heavier. She did not hear any sound except for the cannery and the waves nearby until a high−pitched weeping filled her ears.

"Josette," Angelique said, "your warnings always come too late. But you can take satisfaction in seeing Barnabas rise and I die..."

Angelique soon felt the shovel bang against something hard. She pushed more sand away with her hands. She must have dug less than six feet, maybe four. She continued to dig until the coffin was visible, the old wood covered in fine scratches from the sand.

Angelique had little room to move around the coffin. The chains were gone, but the hinges had rusted, sticking from sand and damp. Angelique pulled the lid upward, but the wood did not give. She stepped back in her tiny area beside the coffin, her feet sinking into the sand. She wondered what tools she could find, when the lid moved, revealing a tiny crack, the hinges creaking.

Hecate was again aiding her. Angelique stayed back, watching wood and steel bend and buckle, revealing a tattered sleeve and the decayed interior of a two hundred-year-old coffin. The lid smashed against a wall of sand to the opposite of Angelique. She looked down at the pale figure in repose.

Barnabas Collins had remained still, his hands across his chest. Angelique came closer, shivering in her nightgown. Sand clung to her hair and skin. She bent over, facing the regal but sensitive face, chiseled jawline, lips in a peaceful scowl. Angelique could feel her heart beat a little faster, her cheeks become warm.

When he sees my face, she thought, he won't recognize me.

She was still gazing at him when his fingers stirred. His eyes snapped open. Angelique gasped, but his right hand had already gripped her hair, pushing her head towards him. She did not resist; he was too strong. She tilted her head, and he buried his hungry mouth into her flesh and blood. Within seconds, he knew who he was taking.

Angelique...

The devil cursed you back in time...you tried to drown me as a child...

I lost control...I am so sorry...

Sterling needs to be stopped. The family won't survive...

Why do you care?

Because you do, you always have. Go to them, but free me first...

Barnabas, his thirst feeling bottomless, drained her until her heart stopped.

### *****

Sterling took in the full parking lot. He sighed. Setting the cannery ablaze would take effort. He turned a corner, away from the main entrance, taking flight to the roof.

Jenna tried to stay focused as she parked Lucas's truck in the circular driveway at Collinwood. She tried to convince herself that she did not see Lucas transform into a wolf. She had been hallucinating, disoriented from traveling forty years into the past and back again.

She thought about how she was going to explain why she was gone. Or where she went. Her family, the police, would want to hear a convincing story.

I don't even know how long I've been gone, she thought. In 1975, it was days. But what about now? Maybe weeks, months.

I ran away. I was upset. Lucas and I had an argument. I was angry about the money situation, losing Collinwood. I thought about suicide, but I came back. I'm so sorry, Grandmother...

Jenna stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She turned at the sound of another vehicle approaching. The headlights from the SUV shined in her eyes for a moment, then switched off.

She could make out the driver only as a dark figure, a suitcase in hand. The figure came closer, setting the case on the ground.

"Jenna?"

She knew that voice.

"Dad!"

Jenna ran to her father, Paul not moving. She put her arms around him, looking up into his face. Paul Stoddard resembled his father if Jeb Hawkes had lived to see middle age, the blond curls going to gray, a beard covering the strong chin and angular features. His eyes were blue and sharp, reflecting a quick intelligence and charm.

Paul, however, did not return his daughter's hug. Jenna felt something press against her belly, cold metal through the fabric of her peasant blouse.

She looked down. Her father was holding a pistol, his finger at the trigger.

"Get in the house, Jenna. Stay quiet."

Gerry Stiles was supposed to be an ex-smoker but, never the type to deal well with stress, had taken up smoking again. No one at work had seemed to notice and Daphne had yet to say anything.

Gerry had worked through his first break to cover a co-worker, so everyone was back at work when Gerry sneaked out through a back door, pulling the pack of Marlboros from his pocket.

Smoking was not allowed on the cannery premises, this rule put into effect in the 1990s. However, Gerry felt confident he would be unseen. The area he had chosen was covered in bushes with a view of Widow's Hill and the water below.

Gerry was half-way through his cigarette when he saw a man walking by the crashing waves, wearing a long coat. Surrounding lights from the cannery cast the distant scene in an unreal darkness, as if watching a silent film from a century ago, but in color. The man stumbled a bit as he walked, but his back remained straight. He stopped and looked up at the night sky.

Gerry would later try to reason with himself. He did not see the man rise from the ground, then disappear, creating a shadow over the water. Gerry would never mention what he saw to Daphne or anyone else. Considering the events that followed, it was a minor bit of strangeness.

Daphne had decided to go to bed early. She limped from the living room to the bathroom across the hall from she and Gerry's bedroom.

She had felt anxious all evening, ever since Kimber had called, explaining how she and Emma had bumped into Jenna Stoddard. Daphne was relieved that Jenna had returned, but she could not shake the feeling that more trouble was coming.

She gripped her toothbrush, the water running. She was reaching for the tube of Colgate when she heard a gunshot, sharp and close. She almost stumbled, her weight going to her sore ankle. She felt something cold and heavy in her hand; in place of her toothbrush, a pistol, her fingers wrapped around the metal. Daphne had never held a gun before. She moved her gaze to the mirror. She did not see her reflection, but she saw a man with curly blond hair, his gaze sad. She recognized Paul Stoddard. He lowered his arm, pistol in hand. She saw Jenna on the ground. Daphne screamed, ran from the bathroom. She dropped her toothbrush to the floor.

She took a few deep breaths in the kitchen, trying to get calm. She found her phone on the counter and made the call.

"Hello?'

"Quentin, it's me. Is Paul Stoddard at Collinwood?"

Quentin had spent part of the day in the west wing at Collinwood. He had not spoken to anyone since breakfast.

Angelique had left the night before and had not returned. Carolyn had chosen to believe the window had been broken by vandals. The story was accepted by the FBI agents and police.

Quentin walked out of the west wing, eager to find Carolyn after speaking with Daphne. Jenna's reappearance had passed through the grapevine and he wondered what her story would be.

### Chapter Twenty-Six

David Collins hesitated before reaching the door. His suitcase was at his side, his rental car parked close by. Having given up his keys to Collinwood years ago, he had to knock. For a moment, he could imagine Mrs. Johnson behind the door. However, before anyone could arrive, he heard a noise behind him. A dog growling. David turned around. The wolf's eyes were wide in fear, the growling persisted as the animal's body trembled.

David was no stranger to the werewolf myth although he had yet to see one with his own eyes. His gaze stayed on the creature, not thinking it would attack. The wolf rose on its long hind legs, covered in coarse black fur. The head, about the size of a calf's, swung back, the jaws open. The werewolf then shifted its form a bit, the chest becoming wider, the growls deeper. The head came forward, tilting to one side. The lips remained parted, eyes on David.

The growl changed, becoming soft, the sound muffled. "Jenna..."

David nodded. "I'm here to help her."

"Help..."

David did not see Barnabas glide from the roof to the entrance. The bottom of the long coat flapped in the breeze. David took in the silver−headed cane above his cousin's dark head. Before Barnabas could strike, the werewolf fled on all fours, heading for the woods.

Barnabas turned, facing David. Now a man close to sixty, David Collins resembled his father, hair iron gray and thinning, the beard short and neat. He was dressed in a leather jacket over a shirt and jeans.

"David," Barnabas said, "I don't think it's safe to go in the house. I think Carolyn and Jenna are in danger."

"What can we do?"

"We wait for Sterling."

"He's the trouble. And he won't stop until he destroys my family."

"There's hope, David."

They heard a vehicle approaching. Both men saw Daphne behind the wheel.

Maggie did not hear the fire alarm at first, busy helping a temporary employee get trained at an assembly line.

She heard a woman's voice. "Fire!"

Maggie turned around, pulling off her safety glasses. She saw smoke floating underneath the set of double doors. A group of workers were right behind her, ready to flee.

"Head for the fire exit just around the corner," Maggie said. "And stay in the parking lot."

They ran and Maggie went in the opposite direction, knowing she should leave the building, but wanted to know where the fire was coming from. She encountered more smoke, others filing past her; some coughing, others rubbing their eyes.

"Come with us, Maggie! There's nothing you can do!"

Gerry Stiles and Matt Johnson were facing her. The smoke was too thick; something cracked and fell from the ceiling, sending all three out of an exit door, smoke trailing them.

"This place is going up like a box of matches," Gerry said.

Maggie, from her view in the parking lot, watched the flames spread, clouds of smoke billowing from windows.

Sterling did this, she thought. And Collinwood is next.

Paul Stoddard stared down his mother and daughter after taking them to the basement of the great house.

Carolyn, still in shock over Paul's actions, gripped Jenna's hand. The light in the basement was dim. The area had been long neglected, damp and deteriorating. Jenna looked from her father to her grandmother.

Paul secured the metal latch on the door, Jenna and Carolyn in front of him. He used the gun's barrel to prod them down the steps. When he joined them at the basement floor, Jenna saw a change in his eyes in the near darkness; a flicker of red as his head turned.

"Sterling?" she asked.

"I'll make this quick, ladies," Paul said. "And, yes, even I can't be in two places at once..."

"Carolyn! Jenna!"

Quentin banged on the basement door. Paul put his fingers to his lips. "Shh..."

Jenna remained silent as Carolyn took a few deep breaths, trying to reconcile her son's actions with what she knew to be true about him−Paul hated guns. He was always more interested in technology and business, a gentle man. Carolyn had also noticed Jenna's strange, retro clothes. When Jenna and Paul had entered the great house, Carolyn had been alone in the drawing room. Her relief and joy had been dashed by the look of dread on Jenna's face, the gun at her back, Paul almost screaming at them to go to the basement.

Carolyn found her voice. "Why are you doing this, Paul? Have you lost your mind?"

Paul turned to look at his mother and she saw the glint of red in his eyes.

"Grandmother," Jenna said, "he's Sterling Gift right now..."

He nodded. "Ms. Stoddard, I thought you'd recognize possession when you saw it..."

"What do you want?" Carolyn asked.

"I like creating scenes, stories, even legends," Sterling said. "My art, my child−like drawings. The one thing I get to keep for myself..."

Sterling kept his gaze on Carolyn and Jenna. "All of this madness is mine. Barnabas. Adam. Angelique. Jeb Hawkes. Quentin. Those proud creatures. I guess you could say I've turned on my own."

"You made my mother disappear," Jenna said.

"I didn't come looking for Rebecca," Sterling said, "but I know she expected it. This may surprise you, but I had nothing to do with her disappearance. She left voluntarily."

"You're lying!"

"Oh, Rebecca would have stayed if she could..."

He was quiet for a moment. He lowered the gun. "I never needed this. It's not even loaded. But let me warn you, if you try to flee, I'll make your heart stop."

"You didn't answer my question," Carolyn said.

He sighed. "You keep asking me for my motivation, Ms. Stoddard. I hate to disappoint you. My only real pleasure is in watching things burn. For lack of a more poetic metaphor, I am evil."

"Why my family?"

"The cursed families are the best."

"Carolyn!"

Quentin had remained at the locked door. The women stayed quiet, riveted to Sterling.

"You have a guardian angel," he said. "Of course, the angels I know−or knew−were not so unselfish. Always drawn to humans; the flesh and blood warm and sensual. Rebecca would be fascinated, watching Paul Stoddard eat a steak or David Collins enjoying his music. Like watching a kitten play with yarn. But she got bored..."

"Who was my mother?" Jenna asked.

"More like... _what_ was she?"

"You waited forty years to come back here," Jenna said. "Maybe you could tell me something about my mother before you go."

"I could have dropped you to your death at Widow's Hill."

"Why didn't you? Why are you afraid of me? Because you're afraid of her? Or maybe my grandfather Jeb?"

Sterling's lips twisted into a smirk, his laughter sputtering. "The Leviathans fear creatures like your mother..."

Carolyn had been paying close attention. "In the end, Jeb was an experiment, just like Adam."

"But Rebecca couldn't be controlled," Sterling said, "because she can't be killed. Like me. Slowed down, maybe, but never die."

"That's pathetic."

Sterling chuckled. "You ladies are something else. I like smart women. Too bad you have to suffer."

Quentin was returning from the basement door when he almost bumped into Julia in the foyer.

"I heard you calling for Carolyn," she said.

Quentin explained the phone call from Daphne.

"I can't find Carolyn," he said. "I have a bad feeling..."

"Dawn isn't in her room," Julia said. "I think she went to Sterling. I also heard someone banging at the door. I was afraid to open it, to be honest."

"Jenna could be outside waiting," Quentin said.

He walked over and yanked open the heavy door, looking through the glass. No one was waiting.

### Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Adam discovered the only way to get rid of Sterling," David said.

David, Barnabas, and Daphne Stiles had arrived at Eagle Hill cemetery in Daphne's vehicle. They found their way to the Collins mausoleum, Daphne limping behind David and Barnabas.

Barnabas could not help but notice Daphne's resemblance to Daphne Harridge. David seemed oblivious, holding a leather case close to his chest. Barnabas slowed down, letting Daphne catch up with him. He took her by the elbow to help her along.

"I don't know how I can be of much help," she said.

David pushed the gate of the mausoleum open, the hinges squeaking from rust and neglect. "You were convinced Rebecca was still alive. None of us believed you, and I'm sorry about that. You were right..."

"If Rebecca Stoddard isn't dead," Barnabas said, "then what happened to her?"

Daphne took in the musty smell of the man's old clothes, a creature who had been asleep for forty years. She could feel his curse; a dark, cold vibration that made her want to pull away. But his grasp on her arm was gentle, he seemed patient, even deferential, to David Collins, who Daphne had not seen since Rebecca's disappearance fifteen years ago.

Daphne did not feel either man was a stranger to her and, as she studied Barnabas's face in the darkness, she found him handsome but remote. He made little eye contact with her, his intense gaze on David. His impressive height kept Daphne with her head up, trying to get his attention. When Barnabas suddenly stopped walking, Daphne almost stumbled. She saw a figure in the distance between two trees. A big dog. But Daphne knew better, as did Barnabas and David. The werewolf did not approach, trotting away through a maze of headstones, then back into the woods.

"Lucas Evans," Daphne said.

"You're kidding!" David replied.

"No, I'm not."

They stepped into the family crypt, Barnabas shutting the rusty gates behind them.

The upkeep of the crypt had become minimal, due to time and budget. Barnabas saw his father Joshua's burial plaque almost impossible to read, covered in grime and cobwebs.

Naomi. Sarah. Everyone but me, he thought. I'm awake, still here.

Daphne's gaze shifted to Barnabas, and the realization, the truth of him, made her head hurt, the pain growing, throbbing. Her ears filled with the sound of a beating heart. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She leaned against the crypt wall, taking the weight off her ankle. "I didn't believe Quentin when he told me you were a vampire, Barnabas. But you were cursed, too..."

Barnabas sighed. "I am more concerned about Carolyn and her granddaughter."

"Sterling Gift is evil," Daphne said. "He has destroyed whole families and their legacies. I don't know if any of us are strong enough to stop him."

"Creatures like Sterling thrive on ignorance," David said.

He set the leather case on to the floor. He pulled out a small book. "I don't know if you've ever seen anything like this, Barnabas..."

Daphne pulled a flashlight from her coat pocket, offering the light to Barnabas. She didn't realize that Barnabas could see easily in the dark. However, he shined the light on the book for the others, taking in the antique script on the fragile pages.

"You're right, David. I've never seen this before."

"This is similar to the original Leviathan book," David said. "Actually, it's a translation from the Leviathan dialect to old English. This book has been rebound many times, but the pages go back four hundred years. See? The Naga..."

The drawing of the serpent made Barnabas almost gasp. "Is Sterling Gift a Leviathan?"

"I have a friend who lives in France," David said. "He has studied and followed the Leviathans for years. They once worshipped Sterling as a god after he was...exiled from Heaven. He preyed on their naïveté until they got smart. They tore him to pieces, but that solution was only temporary..."

"He keeps coming back," Daphne said.

"I once thought he had no equal, but there were others like him who later loved humans and Leviathans. Offspring came of these affairs. My mother and Rebecca are descendants of these people. My mother had no real control over what she was, and I think Rebecca had the same problem."

Barnabas continued to study the book as he listened to David, each page reminding him of his days under the spell of the Leviathans and the creation of Jeb Hawkes.

"I have a lot to explain," David said, "but I think I know how to stop Sterling Gift."

"What can I do?" Daphne asked.

"Have you ever been possessed by a spirit?"

"Yes. A few times. Very unpleasant."

"I'm sure it is. Can you ask for a spirit to enter you?"

"Possibly. Who would I call on?"

"Can you try Rebecca?"

The hidden door in the drawing room at Collinwood was the entrance to more than one tunnel, but Quentin had managed to explore all of these before adulthood, as did David and other family members. The sense of adventure−finding the occasional artifact in the two hundred−year−old tunnels, had been a part of Quentin's childhood and had contributed to his pursuit of forbidden subjects as an adult, such as black magic. He had grown to believe that the most powerful knowledge was secret, but for a good reason.

Julia followed Quentin, both carrying flashlights, stepping carefully through the tunnel leading them to the basement.

"How can you be sure anyone is in the basement?" Julia asked.

"I'm only following my gut, Julia. I thought I heard voices at the basement door. I can't help but feel the evil..."

"It does have its own feel, doesn't it? A dark cloud that covers you, gets in your head."

Quentin felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. After he answered, Julia watched the expression on his face change from bafflement to wide−eyed fear.

"We're looking for her now," Quentin said. "But it's under control? Thanks, Maggie."

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. "The cannery is on fire. Half the building is destroyed. Looks like Sterling is almost to his goal."

Julia sighed. "His pride will make him stay until he gets what he wants."

Quentin and Julia resumed their pace, encountering nothing but darkness and debris until Quentin's light revealed a figure crouched in a corner, against the grimy antique brick. Quentin did not take his light off the figure as he approached, Julia behind him.

"Where is your mirror now, Quentin Collins?"

Drago raised his head, bald with a small point at the top, gray skin covered his dwarf−like body, black eyes hard, without compassion.

"You're waiting on _him_ , aren't you?" Quentin asked.

"I've been sneaky..."

"What did you do?"

"I'll tell you if we can make a deal."

Julia trembled in the dark, gazing at this ugly, demented creature.

"What's your offer?" Quentin asked.

"Tell me where my brother is."

"The last time I saw Deemos, he was laughing at me as I fled Evan Handley's old house. My guess is that he's still there. You want the address?"

Drago chuckled. "Now...what can I do for you? Oh! I already did something. I opened a door..."

"What do you mean?"

"Collinwood has a unique energy. Easy to let energy in, and I'm sure _someone_ has found that open door..."

Quentin remained patient. "Who would want in?"

"You'll find out."

Drago disappeared in a flash of light, illuminating the dark for a second, then gone.

Quentin turned to Julia. "Do you still want to go on? We can wait."

A woman's scream could be heard, Quentin broke into a run, the flashlight beam bobbing. Julia tried to keep up as he turned down the dark corridor more than once. When he came to a stop, Julia almost bumped into him.

"I hear voices," he said.

Quentin and Julia turned off their flashlights. Quentin pulled out his phone, the screen on. "I can send David a text. He might already be in Collinsport."

"But what can David do?"

"I'm not sure..."

Julia strained to hear as Quentin typed out and sent his text. She took a few more steps, then could make out Carolyn's voice.

"I'm sorry Jenna screamed, but she's very scared, Sterling."

"Get her off the floor!"

"I think she's fainted."

Julia came closer, realizing she was only steps away from Sterling. She peeked behind the damp, cold wall, trying to make sure she was unseen. The basement light was a bare bulb just above Sterling's head.

Julia could feel Quentin behind her but stayed still.

Carolyn helped Jenna from the basement floor. Jenna's face was impassive, she stood stiff. When she spoke, a different voice, a hallow echo, emerged.

"Sterling...the silver tongue...sweet liar..."

Carolyn's eyes widened at the sound of the voice.

Sterling grinned. "Rebecca! So good of you to show up! It's been too long."

Carolyn studied Jenna's face; eyes remained the same color, but her lips were twisted as if in pain, her cheeks flushed red. "You need to find another place to play. Back to your glass castle."

"That castle was meant for you, angel−baby."

Jenna shook her head. "Not meant to be. I was created to serve."

"But you were a wife and mother."

"I failed, and so have you."

"No! I never fail because I don't quit!"

"You can't stay much longer," Jenna said. "You will become flesh and can die like a man."

"Is Rebecca dead?" Carolyn asked.

"Not far away, just in a different place. Death is for the flesh only."

"I have time," Sterling said.

Quentin ducked back into the dark when his phone vibrated.

David had replied:

"On our way."

### Chapter Twenty-Eight

"I always knew," Daphne said, "Rebecca was not human. I met her for the first time at the cannery Christmas party. Paul was introducing her to everyone. Gerry and I just got married. She smiled and I shook her hand. What I felt made my head spin. I almost ran to the ladies' room. I couldn't stop sobbing. I was afraid to be around her."

Daphne, Barnabas, and David were still in the Collins family crypt, pouring over the Leviathan book.

"How is Rebecca connected to the Leviathans?" Barnabas asked.

"The connection isn't clear," David said. "I've spent years trying to figure out what the Leviathans could possibly fear..."

"Do they fear Sterling or Rebecca?"

"I think we should focus on Sterling."

Daphne heard her phone vibrate. She checked her texts, then she gasped. "The cannery is on fire..."

"Sterling," Barnabas said. "His next stop will be Collinwood."

"I think we should get back there. Check on everyone.

"I'm sorry I don't have a real plan," David said. "I never thought Sterling would return forty years later, not after what Adam did to him."

Barnabas handed the book back to David. "Evil has its own strength. I think Sterling wants to face _me_. I might be his only match."

"But Sterling's power is great," Daphne said. "I think the only way to stop him is to take him out of his body. Get him as close to death as possible."

David handed Daphne back her flashlight. "But death is no guarantee with him."

"The devil doesn't deal in guarantees."

"If you continue to insult me, I'll kill the old woman!"

Sterling pointed at Carolyn, who leaned against the basement wall.

Jenna/Rebecca chuckled. "Ah...we're coming to the end. You're getting tired."

"Are you getting tired, Rebecca dear? Will you be on your way?"

"So rude. You once loved me so. I could always run to you..."

"Don't remind me."

"Our Father loved you the most."

"That's why the others were so glad to see me go. Even you."

"I missed you with bitterness in my soul. Father saw my despair and let me leave Home. I came here and loved a man."

" _Men_ , you mean?"

"I became a mother. A flesh and blood mother."

"You left your child."

"I was called Home. I do not question our Father."

"More's the pity."

"You will not face punishment."

"I have killed this family in parallel time. Many times. Father knows I have interrupted his design."

Carolyn tried to remain calm, taking in the unearthly conversation, when her gaze wandered, just steps away. Julia showed her face for just a moment, peeking around a corner. Their eyes met, Julia nodding. Carolyn suppressed a sigh, relieved someone had found them.

Quentin, his voice below a whisper, said, "We need more help. Barnabas is awake, David is home. We need to get to them."

Julia complied, following Quentin out of the basement and back to the drawing room. They left the great house, walking to a nearby garage. Quentin called David, who was in Daphne's vehicle with Barnabas, Daphne at the wheel. As they made plans to meet at Collinwood, Barnabas saw the werewolf in the rearview mirror, following them. The creature was keeping a steady trot until it seemed to freeze, then rolled to its right, arms and legs outstretched.

Lucas Evans has transformed back into a man, Barnabas thought. He has no control. Just like Chris Jennings or Quentin.

"Stop here!"

"Barnabas, we need at you at the house."

"Sorry, David, but I'll have to catch up with you later."

"I saw Lucas in the mirror, too, but what can you do for him?""

"I need to talk to him. I'll be at Collinwood as soon as I can."

Daphne pulled over. Barnabas, cane in hand, stepped out. He shut the door behind him, disappearing into the darkness.

Barnabas pursued Lucas Evans with patience. He could detect the werewolf's scent and the sound of his breathing.

He's heading for Collinwood, Barnabas thought.

Barnabas caught up with Lucas as the young man was dressing, his clothes hidden in a pile of brush.

"Lucas Evans?"

He looked up from tucking his T-shirt into the waist of his jeans. He remained calm, taking in the image of this tall, pale man in a tattered old suit, holding a cane. Lucas took a few careful steps forward.

"You look just like the portrait..."

"I can help you, Lucas..."

"How?"

Lucas became caught in the vampire's gaze. He was unafraid of this man. Barnabas let Lucas come to him. The vampire embraced the young man, his cane falling to the ground. Lucas watched the silver wolf's head reflect the moonlight. He stared at the shimmering metal, not feeling the tearing of his flesh as Barnabas pushed his fangs into the skin. The vampire's mouth filled with the blood of another supernatural creature.

Lucas has no control over his transformation, but I can help him control his curse if I have his will. The werewolf can be a weapon...

Maggie had tried calling Lucas and Carolyn, leaving several messages. She found it hard to believe Carolyn would not be on her way to the cannery.

The Collinsport Fire Department was modest and were relying on volunteers to help put out the blaze. The parking area was taken up with fire trucks, police, and two ambulances. Maggie wanted nothing more than to get in her car and check on Lucas and Carolyn, but she would have to wait, every exit blocked.

She was seeking out the plant manager when she heard a familiar voice:

"The building was having code issues..."

Maggie followed the voices until she found Tony Petersen standing next to the fire marshal.

"Have you seen Lucas?" Maggie asked.

"Hi, Maggie. Good to see you're safe."

"Thanks, Tony. I'm sorry, but I'm worried about Lucas."

"He was at Collinwood tonight. I left him messages, but he hasn't called. Carolyn should be here by now..."

"I'd leave, but I can't get my car out of the parking lot. It's blocked by a police car."

"I'm parked off the road, I can drive you out there."

Daphne parked at the garage where Julia and Quentin were waiting.

David embraced Julia as Quentin explained the situation.

"If Paul Stoddard is possessed by Sterling," David said, "it is unlikely Paul will survive. I just can't imagine Sterling−the evil he is−leaving anything intact. He can destroy whole cities. And Jenna−if she is possessed by Rebecca−won't get out of this alive."

They all felt the ground shake, growing in force. David gripped Julia by the elbow, Daphne leaned against her vehicle.

"If Sterling can't burn down Collinwood," Quentin said, "he'll bury us all."

Barnabas and Lucas had exchanged few words when Barnabas felt the earth move under the soles of his forty−year−old shoes.

"Earthquake," Lucas said.

The wounds on the younger man's neck were healing quick. Barnabas had made Lucas forget about the bite but could control Lucas's will without him being aware of the spell. They had emerged from the woods to the two−lane road into town. Barnabas could have flown to Collinwood but wanted to remain with Lucas, even if they had to walk to the estate.

The ground shook again, followed by the sound of a tire blowing. Barnabas and Lucas continued to walk until they came upon the source of the noise, a car pulled over to the side, emergency lights flashing.

The lone driver was kneeling at the torn tire, the spare at his side. As the two men came closer, Lucas recognized the thick hair and impressive height, his ease with the jack and tools. Lucas quickened his pace, Barnabas following. When they approached the driver, he looked up.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Stoddard," Lucas said.

The man stared for a moment, then grinned. "Hey, Lucas! I was on my way to Collinwood, and that...mini quake made my tire blow. You'd think I was back in California..."

" _You_ are Paul Stoddard?" Barnabas asked.

"Yes, I am." Paul rose and shook hands with Barnabas.

"I am Barnabas Collins. We're cousins."

"I don't doubt you're a Collins! You look just like-"

"The portrait, I know."

"He hasn't had a chance to meet with Ms. Stoddard," Lucas said. "We were on our way to Collinwood..."

"Just let me get this spare on and I'll take you two over there. I'm sick with worry about Jenna. The flight back to the States took twice as long. There was an emergency landing in Hawaii. I spent hours in the airport in Honolulu, then another layover at LAX."

"Jenna is home," Lucas said. "I don't know all the details, but she's safe."

"Well...thank God. I'm sure Mother is relieved."

Paul returned to changing the tire when another tremor occurred.

"Ridiculous!" he said. "I passed the cannery−what's left of it−on the way here. This family has enough problems. Earthquakes and fires. You'd think Armageddon was coming!"

The gasps turned to screams before Tony and Maggie could get to Tony's Jeep. The tremors grew in power. Maggie saw the ground beneath her crack open. Tony took her by the elbow, a police officer motioning them back to the parking lot.

"Don't start driving right now!" the officer said.

The ground continued to shake, and the charred, wet ruins of the cannery began to collapse. Firefighters and civilians ran from the area, heading closer to the paved parking lot.

The ground opened wide around the foundations of the decades−old cannery. Police and firefighters tried to maintain order, but Collinsport had never experienced such a blaze accompanied by an earthquake. Some people simply ran away, some hiding in their parked vehicles.

Maggie, leaning against a fire truck for support, witnessed the destruction of the whole cannery, every building sinking into the ground. As she saw the catastrophe, amid the noise, the glare of lights in the darkness, she realized the sinking stayed in the parameters of the cannery, no deep holes seemed to penetrate the pavement or the ground outside.

Sterling is doing this, she thought. Collinwood is next.

Watching the cannery be buried was like a watching a great ship sink into the ocean; wood, cement and steel buckling and breaking until all was lost.

### Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Do you hear that sound?" Sterling asked.

"No," Carolyn said.

"It is the sound of the cannery being destroyed. Dead and buried..."

Carolyn had kept her distance from Sterling and Jenna; they may have the bodies of her loved ones, but their voices and words were not from this world.

She was exhausted. She felt helpless, waiting for Sterling's next move, not sure if she should believe what he was saying.

Jenna's inhuman gaze stayed on Sterling, who continued to pace.

"What are you waiting for?" Carolyn asked.

"I'm waiting for the right time to bury the great house. Make the stone walls shake..."

"You can have this house," Carolyn said, "just let Jenna and I go."

"That's not what he wants," Jenna said. "He wants the pain, the suffering."

Sterling raised his right hand, index finger pointed upward. "Don't cheat me of an unhappy ending, dear."

Carolyn, in that moment, saw his shirt cuff pull away from his wrist.

He's not my son, she thought. No birthmark.

Jenna's gaze met hers, and they both knew.

The headlights of Paul's rental car landed on a hitchhiker. The tall man was dressed in jeans and a hooded jacket. Before Barnabas could protest, Paul had already slowed, his window down. "Where you headed?"

"Into Collinsport."

"Things are a little crazy in town."

The hood of the man's jacket covered part of his face. "I was hoping to check on a friend who works at the cannery. Maybe you could take me as far as the exit by Widow's Hill? I can walk the rest of the way."

"That's fine. There's room in the back. Move over, Lucas."

Lucas obeyed. After being seated and shutting the door, the hitchhiker made eye contact with Barnabas, who was sitting in the passenger front seat. The man nodded a greeting. He raised his arms to pull off the hood, and Barnabas did not miss the birthmark on the man's outer wrist, the mark of the Leviathan.

Quentin, flashlight in hand, could see hairline cracks in the walls of the sublevel of Collinwood. Old gaslights, the metal finish eroded with time, were covered in thick dust and debris, cobwebs in almost every corner.

What if Sterling tries to destroy the great house? he thought.

He had managed to convince David, Daphne, and Julia to stay above ground by the garage. He expected the police to come looking for Carolyn, so Quentin knew he would have to act quick.

The only solution he could think of was to subdue Sterling until Barnabas arrived.

Sterling has no empathy for anyone in this house, Quentin thought. He can only be slowed down if he feels threatened.

Quentin reached the part of the basement where he and Julia had located Sterling with Carolyn and Jenna. He turned off his flashlight before taking another step closer. He looked up just as Carolyn ran towards him in the dark.

"He lied! He's not Paul! But I can't leave Jenna!"

Carolyn almost screamed at the muffled sound of a single gunshot.

A squad car from the Collinsport PD had yet to arrive when Paul parked his car near the entrance at Collinwood.

The hitchhiker had been dropped off near the main road into town. He cheerfully thanked Paul before walking off.

Paul, Barnabas, and Lucas were waved down by David, Julia, and Daphne as they ran towards the main door. Barnabas was stopped by the vision of Julia, dressed as he had left her in the east wing in 1971.

"I can't help but think that a greater force has brought us home," Barnabas said.

Julia placed her hands on his cold cheeks, tears in her eyes. She noticed the condition of his clothes, his paleness and the fever in his eyes. "Barnabas, I can try again. The injections..."

"Not right now. We need to save Carolyn and Jenna."

"Quentin texted me," David said, holding up his phone.

The others read the message on the screen:

HE SHOT J.

The front door swung open. Sterling, back in his own face and body, was gripping his gun. He grinned at them and the ground started to shake.

Quentin had stayed behind with Carolyn in the basement, searching Jenna for the location of her bullet wound.

She was still, but her eyes were open. "Grandmother..."

Carolyn gripped Jenna's hand. "I'm here."

Quentin had already called for an ambulance and texted David. "The bullet could be in her back. I don't want to move her."

He covered Jenna with his jacket. She was trembling from shock. "He lied about the gun. He wanted me dead the whole time!" She started laughing. "I remember! Look at my clothes! The fire in Dad's room..."

"I'm going upstairs to let the paramedics in," Quentin said.

He was at the basement steps when the house started to rock.

Sterling took the cannery, now he wants Collinwood, Quentin thought.

"Carolyn?"

"I'm not leaving her!"

Quentin turned and continued out of the house, almost stumbling as the shaking continued. The portrait of Barnabas had fallen, the chandelier swinging, flakes of plaster raining down.

Quentin made it to the open front door, the outside light on. He noticed Sterling no longer resembled Paul Stoddard, but had transformed to his former self, dressed in black.

Sterling's gap−toothed grin contradicted his cold gaze. "Come on out, Quentin. But don't be a hero. Same for you two, Barnabas and Wolf−Boy. I've got three humans and a loaded gun. Who will it be?"

Quentin was only steps behind him. "Don't do this!"

Sterling aimed the barrel at Daphne. "You know, I don't need a gun! I can make any one of them drop dead!"

Sterling threw the pistol down. A bullet discharged, making the porch light up for a second. The flash allowed everyone to see Julia before she disappeared. She did not fade; she was erased in seconds.

Barnabas was still staring at the space Julia had inhabited when he heard growling behind him.

_My bite was supposed to control him_...

Two huge fur-covered hands, claws extended, were already around Sterling's head, pulling the demon away from the door. Without a weapon, Sterling would have to use his own strength. Quentin scooped up the pistol but found it light in his hand. He checked the chamber, the space empty.

Sterling could not run from the young werewolf, who was not fully transformed; his face that of a wolf, his body like a young bear. Lucas kept his grip on Sterling's head and twisted, not only breaking the neck but beheading the creature. The werewolf kept the head in his hands while the body dropped to the lawn.

The ground had stopped shaking, but a sinkhole opened at the feet of the werewolf, clever enough to drop Sterling's head and step away. The ground took the head and the body. As this burial occurred, the werewolf threw its head back and howled, the sound blending with the sirens that were coming closer. The werewolf fled into the woods behind the great house.

The others ran inside, following Quentin to the basement. However, Barnabas chose to stay outside because he did not feel it was the right time to meet Carolyn. Instead, he headed for the old house.

Carolyn was gripping Jenna's hand. Jenna was covered in sweat. Paul ran his daughter's side. "Who was this bastard? Why did he shoot my daughter?"

"She wasn't herself, Paul," Carolyn said. "Rebecca was speaking through her."

Paul shook his head. "She never would have harmed Jenna. She loved Jenna, she loved me."

"But _what_ was she?"

"Mother, I can't tell you now. Please, let's focus on Jenna."

"Carolyn," David said, "Paul and I can tell you what we know later."

David put his arm around Carolyn. Paul took Jenna's other hand. David recognized the clothes he had bought for her at the Collinsport Mall forty years ago.

Quentin checked Jenna's pulse, his fingertips at the side of her neck. "She's still conscious, but I can't find her bullet wound without moving her."

"You mean she...could be paralyzed?" Carolyn asked.

Quentin didn't have time to answer. A stretcher soon appeared, being carried down the basement stairs, Daphne leading the EMTs to Jenna.

Jenna was lucid enough to recognize those around her. "Sterling is gone, isn't he? Lucas made him go away..."

The EMTs took great care with Jenna while placing her on the stretcher. She said she was not feeling numbness in her legs, but she was in shock, so nothing could be determined until she arrived at the hospital. Carolyn accompanied her granddaughter in the ambulance to Collinsport Medical Center, but Jenna was later air−lifted to a hospital in Bangor.

Barnabas thought he could find refuge in the old house; instead, all he found was ruins. The inside had been cleaned out, the furniture and rugs gone. The old fireplace had fallen apart, clogged by dirt and debris. The portrait of Josette was gone.

The house was in worse shape than when he had returned in the 1960s. The ceiling had fallen in some places, the water damage and mold obvious. The only thing holding the house up on the front porch was the Greek columns.

He could not find a chair to sit in, so he stood, leaning against the built−in bookcase near the fireplace, cane in hand. He was contemplating his situation when the bookcase started to make a creaking noise. Barnabas stepped away to watch the whole bookcase swing open, revealing the old hiding space, lit by a lantern, the light coming into the parlor. Lucas Evans stepped out, fully clothed and carrying a cell phone. He almost jumped when he saw Barnabas.

"Hello, Lucas. I see you found a useful hiding place."

"Yeah, um...I hide clothes and a phone in different places. I changed back close by, so I came here."

"Good idea. You transformed very rapidly this time."

"All I remember is reading that message on David's phone. Jenna had been shot."

"She was taken to the Collinsport hospital. Jenna left the keys in your truck."

"Oh, God. She saw me change..."

"Just go to her."

Lucas nodded and ran out of the house, the weak floorboards snapping under his feet.

Barnabas continued to look around in the dark, his vampire-sight taking in the hopeless decay. He shook his head, slamming the end of his cane on the floor.

Destruction. Nothing but destruction, he thought. I have returned to chaos. Well, at least Collinwood is still standing. But what can I do now?

The idea that came to him made him grin, followed by soft laughter, the sound echoing through the rotting walls, waking memories and ghosts alike.

### Chapter Thirty

Carolyn stayed with friends while Jenna healed from surgery at the hospital in Bangor. David and Quentin helped to manage Collinwood, along with some repairs to the great house. Barnabas kept a polite distance, living in a tower room.

One rainy afternoon, Quentin drove to the hospital in Bangor, finding Carolyn in the hallway outside of Jenna's room. She smiled when she saw Quentin approach, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

She took the flowers from him, admiring the mix of lilies and carnations. "Thank you, Jim. She'll love these..."

"Is she awake?" Quentin asked.

"No. She needed a nap. She started physical therapy today."

"When can she come home?"

"Maybe another week. She'll be in a wheelchair and therapy will continue at home. She may walk again."

"I found the slug in the basement. He was very close when he shot her."

"Only steps away. He knew what he was doing. The miracle is that when the bullet went through her, it missed her spine by centimeters."

"Is she still talking about...1975?"

"Yes. I remember the fire in Paul's room. Mother and I went to Boston for a week when it happened. The fire was stopped before it could spread past the second floor; the insurance covered the repairs and remodeling. We thought Paul had been playing with matches. Jenna says Sterling, of all people, started the fire. But after what I saw in the basement, I don't know what to believe."

"I heard some of the conversation between Sterling and Jenna," Quentin said. "Her mother was speaking through her. Rebecca is...from another place, a spiritual being."

"An angel."

He nodded, grinned. "I need some coffee."

Quentin and Carolyn continued their discussion in the basement cafeteria.

"Do you believe in the supernatural?" Quentin asked.

"Yes. I've had too many experiences." She added sugar and creamer to her coffee. "Can you explain to me again what happened to Julia?"

"The gun went off when Sterling dropped it and Julia disappeared."

"Like a ghost?"

"Yes."

"Mother said the same thing happened with Victoria Winters..."

"I saw Paul at Collinwood today. He thinks Dawn left him."

"They had been having problems leading up to the housefire. She found out Paul had been looking into her background. He was unhappy with what he found. A woman matching her description had vanished decades ago, but her name wasn't Dawn Manners. Paul was going to discuss this with Dawn when he returned from Japan, but he didn't get the chance."

"Dawn was a con artist?" Quentin asked.

"Maybe. Sterling Gift has vanished, too. Jenna has no memory of what happened in the basement, except when we were brought in there, although her recall returned when she was shot. Somehow, she understands that the man who shot her wasn't her father. She's not afraid of Paul."

"When I left Collinsport, I drove past the cannery site. It's being cleared."

Carolyn nodded. "I'll be left with a big lot. The insurance paid out, so that's a blessing."

"Have you-"

"Received any offers for the lot? Not yet."

"Paul has made progress with the repairs at Collinwood. The roof, the cracks in the walls. He hired some local men, like Gerry Stiles, to work on the place."

"Half the town is unemployed now."

"They don't blame you, Carolyn."

"Well, maybe they should. Sterling Gift came to Collinsport with the intent of destroying what is left of my family and our fortune. We are cursed. We had the money, but never happiness. I'm sure your father must have told you. He spent a few years at Collinwood, then went away. Just like Barnabas."

I left because I had a secret, Quentin thought. Same with Barnabas and Julia.

"David has agreed to stay around for a while," Quentin said. "But he refused to move into the house. He's staying at the Collinsport Inn."

"I think he's finally ready to deal with being a Collins," Carolyn said. "He's been here to visit often. He seems quite fond of Jenna, although he hadn't seen her since Rebecca disappeared."

"He loved Rebecca, didn't he?"

"Yes. And I think he knew more about her the whole time. He just stayed silent."

"Who would believe him?"

"I know how that feels. Part of the curse if you ask me."

"The fear of being thought insane?"

"The stigma of insanity has been replaced by the reality of mental illness. Times have changed. The survival of my family will be determined in our ability to put the old fears behind us. We need to move on."

Paul saved his news for his mother after they returned from Bangor with Jenna, now outfitted with a motorized wheelchair. She was in good spirits, but went upstairs to rest, giving Paul the time to speak to Carolyn.

Mother and son went outside to sit by the fountain, enjoying the early June weather; lilac bushes in bloom, along with the roses on an old metal trellis, thorny stems ascending the stone walls towards Jenna's room.

"Mother, we haven't had a chance to talk about what we are going to do about the finances," Paul said. "The cannery is a loss. I had to use some of my own money to pay the men doing repairs here. The idea of losing Collinwood breaks my heart. Jenna loves Collinwood."

"I'm sick of the worry," Carolyn said. "I can accept losing the estate."

"I think I have a solution," Paul said. "The reason the family managed to maintain the wealth for so long was because they moved with the times. When the shipping business slowed down, the cannery was started. Now, something is needed to replace the cannery."

"You already have a business of your own," Carolyn said.

"I want to bring some of Silicon Valley to Collinsport," Paul said. "A small facility. I won't be able to hire everyone in town, but maybe around one hundred people. It could take a while, but what I'm asking is you not sell the cannery site; that way, I don't have to buy a property, but I'm still going to need an infusion of cash."

"This sounds like a gamble, Paul."

"A few of my friends in California were also talking of wanting to give back to their hometowns, creating jobs. I've been thinking about it for some time, but Dawn didn't want to come back here. She's gone now, so what's stopping me?"

"You're divorcing Dawn?"

"In absentia, it seems. Where is she? No money has been taken from our accounts, no credit card use. Most of her things were destroyed in the fire. She disappeared, just like Rebecca."

"Did you report her as a missing person?"

"No. I don't think she left against her will. We had been having problems. She said I was a workaholic. That's true. But she never wanted to talk about her past; about her parents or where she went to college. She seemed happy at first. Maybe I was unfair; I wanted her to take Rebecca's place, but she didn't like Jenna or you. Or Collinwood. She said some unkind things about you. I'm sorry. I thought she was just insecure."

"She said I was mentally ill."

"She had no right to judge. She asked me, just days before our house burned down, if I had anything to do with Rebecca's disappearance. I said no. She asked me if I thought Rebecca was dead. I said yes. She was quiet after that. I didn't mention to her that one of my employees saw her with another man at a restaurant in Los Gatos. This person came to my office and told me. I asked her what the man looked like. She said handsome, tall, with a gap between his upper front teeth."

"Sterling?"

"Yes. I recognized him when he stepped out of the front doors with his gun, after Jenna had been shot. I knew Dawn had been a part of his plan. And I've tried to explain to you what Lucas did."

"I believe you. But I don't think Maggie knows yet."

"Lucas doesn't want her to know. But she'll find out. And Lucas would never forgive himself if he harmed his grandmother."

"They're both coming for dinner tonight along with Jim and David. Daphne and Gerry Stiles and their girls. Are you going to talk about your plans?"

"Not yet. I still need to talk to some potential investors and drum up some capital. In the meantime, I'm managing the repairs around here." Paul rose from the stone bench. "The other day, Gerry Stiles asked me if anyone else was staying at Collinwood. I said no, but he was sure someone was staying in the old tower room, a bed was made in there with some old clothing on hangers."

"Maybe an old guest? I haven't been in the tower room for many years. And I wouldn't ask Mr. Mays to walk through the great house every night to check every wing and secret room. He'd be exhausted."

"That's for sure. The upkeep is staggering."

"A labor of love, son."

"We'll keep it. This is home."

### Chapter Thirty-One

"I'm glad you've come, David. I know I can talk to you..."

David smiled down at Jenna in her wheelchair. "I'm glad to be here."

They were alone in the drawing room that evening. Carolyn and Paul were in the kitchen and the other guests had yet to arrive.

David sat down next to Jenna at the cushioned settee by the cold fireplace. Jenna had grown closer to David during her long hospital stay, his visits frequent. But now that she was home, David had yet to see her.

"What story did you tell the police and the FBI?" David asked.

Jenna shook her head. "I've told the tale so many times, I'm starting to believe it. Sterling Gift, angry about the cannery deal not going through, kidnapped me, holding me captive. I was blindfolded the whole time and moved often. But I escaped. Sterling followed me to Collinwood, then took Grandmother and me at gunpoint to the basement. He shot me there. Jim and Daphne have promised to go along. And Lucas. That leaves you, David."

"Sounds good to me." He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an old envelope. "I wanted to show you something..."

A small stack of photographs. He passed these to Jenna. The color photos were turning yellow at the corners, the edges worn. The first few were images of Collinwood; the trees and outbuildings. The great house. She dropped these one at a time in her lap after a long glance. However, with the last photo, her eyes widened.

"That's me," she said.

The peasant blouse and bell-bottomed jeans. Her hair loose. She was looking off to the side.

"How did you get these?" she asked.

"I was able to sneak into Sterling's room at the Collinsport Inn the day after Adam killed him. I found his camera, the film inside. He must have taken this picture of you when he met you that morning on the grounds."

"What happened after the fire?"

"Paul was blamed, but we know he wasn't even in his room. Playing with matches? But everyone was willing to accept that story. The insurance fixed the damage. But I didn't think Carolyn and Aunt Elizabeth were really convinced, certainly not Father. I had to explain to him you were called home suddenly. Paul asked about you for a while, then he stopped. Only Adam and the professor knew the truth. A few weeks later, I left for Europe, spending time in England and Italy. Life just went on."

"When did Maggie come back?"

"About a year after I left. I didn't know she had been married or had a son. I'd like to know about Sam's father. I think any information could help Lucas."

"Who would put a curse on him? Lucas is a nice guy. And, if not a curse, could it be something that runs in his family?'

"Probably on the male side. That's why I wanted to learn more about his father and grandfather."

"His grandfather committed suicide. He was a Vietnam vet. His father was an alcoholic, like Maggie's father."

"I wonder if Maggie knows more."

"Are you going to ask her?" Jenna asked.

"There are some questions that should be asked carefully. I love Maggie, but she likes her privacy. Maybe it would be better for Lucas to talk to her about her life in California."

The guests soon started to arrive. Jim came downstairs to join Daphne and Gerry Stiles. After a polite, but awkward greeting, the Stiles girls sat near Jenna but barely spoke to her, not becoming animated until Lucas arrived with Maggie. Carolyn and Paul had prepared the meal, and they all entered the elegant dining room for dinner.

Barnabas took a deep breath before knocking at the door. He had rehearsed his introduction to the family with help from Quentin and David.

"You have no choice," Quentin had said. "I convinced Carolyn and Maggie I am my own son. You can do it, too. Barnabas Collins moved to England in the early 1970s and fathered a son who would now be in his forties."

He clutched the old briefcase at his side. His charcoal suit was modern and expensive, the pine-green tie bringing out his dark eyes. His black hair was now in a more stylish cut, his bangs short and combed back. He did not reflect in mirrors, so he had to rely on the opinions of others, but Quentin and David had been a great help, purchasing him a cell phone and other modern gadgets.

"Remember," Quentin said, "I'm Cousin Jim from Canada and I've never met you before. Same with David. Lucas and Paul will remember what you want them to. Tell the rest of the family you came to Collinwood because your father was concerned about the estate. And you have your gifts..."

The vampire's grip on the briefcase handle was tight enough to cause a crack by the time the door was answered by Paul Stoddard. "Well! Hello! Come on in..."

Barnabas had managed to get Paul under his control while Carolyn was away in Bangor during Jenna's hospital stay. He had grown used to using his hypnotic abilities again while dealing with his returning hunger for human blood. Julia could not help him, her disappearance just as mystifying as Jenna's had been.

He gave Paul Stoddard a warm smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm late."

"That's all right. We just finished dinner and came back to the drawing room. Please, follow me."

Barnabas gave his portrait a quick glimpse before he entered.

"Oh, my God!"

Barnabas did not expect Carolyn's reaction to be any different. She stood next to Jenna at the fireplace. His gaze moved to Maggie, Lucas, and David. Daphne and Gerard with their young daughters. Quentin, now Jim, tried to look surprised.

"Mother," Paul said, "this is the man I met the night of the cannery fire."

"Barnabas Collins," she said. "You haven't changed."

He grinned. "You have me confused with my father, the Barnabas Collins who lived here in the 1960s."

"He had a son?" Maggie asked.

She had stepped over, gripping Carolyn's elbow. Maggie's gaze was direct, Barnabas knew she would be the hardest to convince.

"Yes. I was born in 1972. Father had moved to England and met my mother. They never married, but he provided well for us. When he heard about the cannery and Jenna's abduction, he wanted me to check on the family here. He couldn't do it himself. He's elderly and can no longer travel."

"Oh," Carolyn said. She sighed. "His departure was rather abrupt. It was as if he had disappeared, too. We missed him."

"He had to go home to England to deal with family business there. He met my mother and decided to stay. I'm sorry he fell out of touch. We traveled a lot, lived for years in Hong Kong."

He caught the gaze of Daphne Stiles, who so resembled that beautiful ghost from long ago. Her daughters continued to stare at him. Jenna also gazed at him with the same wonder. For a moment, he was reminded of Victoria Winters.

"Father," he said, "wanted me to give you a gift, Carolyn."

He set the briefcase at Carolyn's desk, next to her computer. He opened the case, letting Carolyn and Maggie get a good view.

Naomi Collins, Barnabas's mother, had possessed a dowry made up mostly of jewels. She had been the youngest daughter; her sisters had taken whatever money and property their father could use to dower them. The jewels were all that remained by the time Naomi became engaged to Joshua Collins.

Carolyn drew in her breath as she looked at the pearl and diamond necklace in the metal box, resting against a black velvet lining. The diamonds were the size of small ice cubes, connected in between by several shimmering pearls.

Carolyn gulped. "It's beautiful. Priceless."

"Would you like to try it on?" Barnabas asked.

She nodded and Maggie stepped aside. Barnabas extracted the necklace from the velvet, holding it in both hands. He laid the diamonds and pearls around Carolyn's neck. He noticed her trembling as he clasped the chain, noticing her thick blonde mane was in a more practical style compared to over forty years ago. He rested his hand on her shoulder as she turned around.

"Mother," Paul said, "you look like a queen."

Carolyn flushed, making her look twenty years old again. "This should be in a museum."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Gerry Stiles looked dumbfounded.

"That can't be real," Kimber Stiles said.

"I can authenticate it," Barnabas said.

Kimber became silent at the tone of his voice. Nothing phony about this English cousin. She shrugged.

"Come closer, Kim," Carolyn said. "It's all right..."

Kimber and Emma joined their mother. Emma even touched one of the diamonds with a curious fingertip, then pulling away as if burned. Carolyn stepped over to Jenna, who also could not resist running a fingertip over a pearl. "It's perfect."

"Too perfect, really." Carolyn turned to Barnabas. "Your father was always very generous."

"Yes," Barnabas said. "He always wanted to help."

Carolyn, tears in her eyes, nodded. "He isn't just family, but a good friend."

The necklace was sold at auction for a sum high enough to pay off the remaining debts on Collinwood and begin Paul's new business. He had decided to relocate to Collinsport permanently; I am impressed with his commitment to drag Collinsport into the twenty−first century

I, however, will always be drawn to the past. Jenna and I have this in common. I am confident she will walk again. Jenna is also clever. She is trying to convince Carolyn to open Collinwood to the public for tour groups to bring in additional revenue. Quentin and Barnabas are supportive of this, which surprises me, but Carolyn gets the last vote.

The night before Jenna's homecoming, Barnabas and Quentin (I haven't grown used to calling him Jim) made a late-night excursion, shovels in hand, to the cannery site to look for Barnabas's coffin, where Barnabas had left Dawn's body closed inside. They had planned to retrieve the casket, take Dawn's body somewhere else for burial, and bring the casket back to the old house. They located the grave and continued to dig until they could open the lid. The coffin was empty. Angelique, even in the body of another woman, was a powerful witch, capable of almost anything.

Maggie has taken her retirement early and remains in the dark about Lucas. He has tried to get her to talk about his grandfather, but she clams up or changes the subject. She stays busy helping Carolyn with Jenna at Collinwood. Lucas has transformed twice since the cannery fire and Daphne and Quentin are still trying to track down a solution.

Tonight, Barnabas stopped by my room at the Collinsport Inn to tell about a new development. He had been walking through town after sunset to see a light on at an old store front. As he came closer, he saw the words 'Collinsport Coffee and Bakery' on the window in bold black letters. A man was lowering the large blind over the front window. The blind became uneven on one side and the man ducked into the window area to straighten the slats. He saw Barnabas and waved. Barnabas recognized the man as the hitchhiker Paul Stoddard had picked up the night of the cannery fire and earthquake. He had a mark on his wrist, the half−moon of the Leviathan. I had also noticed the mark.

I need to accept that I have to stay. I can't live at the Collinsport Inn anymore, people are starting to talk. Why doesn't David Collins live in his own home? I talked to Carolyn and she is expecting me by tonight.

My homecoming is not without complications. Pretending I don't know Quentin/Jim or Barnabas well is difficult, as is hiding Lucas's secret. I'm in the middle, the person other people come to for information and help. I have taken the place of Professor Stokes, a man much smarter than me.

Jenna calls me often, usually at night. She wants to talk about 1975, Vicki's dress and her father as a little boy. She said, "You must think I'm a pest. I'm sorry."

" _You can always call me."_

Paul and I had a conversation during Rebecca's pregnancy for Jenna. He forgave Rebecca, but only if he could raise Jenna as his own child. I was still under psychiatric care. Paul promised he would never tell the child of her mother's betrayal with me. Jenna will know me only as her cousin.

I once told Roger Collins he was not my father. I was a bratty eight−year−old and unaware of how much I hurt him until many years later. He never wavered in his belief that I was his son. My mother's motives are hard to determine, considering the creature she was, but she did love me. I love Jenna; but I have no business being a father.

I dream of my father sometimes. He is free and happy. Laughing. I have thought, do we have to be dead to know real joy? Real love? I do believe people create the darkness and fear in their lives and the uncreating can take all the remaining years; that's why most human beings don't bother, ending their lives bitter and afraid. Quentin and Barnabas, in their immortality, have more of a choice, more time, but the darkness has buried them deep. However, they are nothing if not brave, and I am lucky to have these men as my friends.

Maggie will be arriving soon to take me to Collinwood. My suitcases are already in the lobby. My room at the inn was across the hall from Burke Devlin's suite. He almost married my governess Victoria Winters. My Aunt Elizabeth wasn't the same after Vicki left.

I will sleep at Collinwood for the first time in over forty years tonight. I will hear the same old voices and bumps in the night. Before, I couldn't wait to get away. Now, I'm ready to embrace every ghost.

After all, it is my inheritance

THE END

### ###

Laura A. Ellison was born in Muskegon, Michigan, the youngest of four children. She is a graduate of Grand Valley State University, where she majored in English, her emphasis in creative writing. She became a Dark Shadows fan in the 1990s when the series aired on the SciFi channel. She is currently employed by the Shape Corporation. She is also the author of Karma House, The Last Girl, The Witch Box, The Sons of Man, and her vampire tales, all available at Smashwords.

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