Subj: Taken to task, Part 8
Date: 7/20/00 4:38:22 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Carol H. Monterosso
Meanwhile.................Back at the Old House
Time has lost all meaning. Day after day, night after night, Barnabas' aimless wandering through the Old House have grown tiresome.
He turned away Julia and Professor Stokes who had come for dinner on that fateful day. They were confused and concerned but accepted his refusal to open the door. Eccentrics were allowed their eccentricities, they thought. Visits to Collinwood ceased; Elizabeth and Roger thought he was severely ill to be acting so strangely. He finally posted a note on the door telling everyone he was going away and would notify all upon his return. Concerned friends and relatives stopped knocking on the door; he was finally alone.
Weeks without Willie had taken there toll. The house was in total chaos. Candle stubs littered every holder. Even though electricity had been installed, Barnabas insisted on candlelight in the evening. He felt incandescent light was too harsh; only using it when necessary and when finding Willie's supply of candles proved futile.
Never having a big appetite, Barnabas survived for days on fruit and crackers he found in a room he took to be the kitchen. Never having utilized its services before, he was amazed to find well- stocked pantries and an ice box full of meat, eggs, and liquids in containers. Whatever he took, he left the remains on the counter to be cleaned up eventually but he didn't know by who. Certainly not himself. He found the food and ate it; someone would dispose of dirty utensils, empty cartons, and crumpled napkins. But no one ever did, he discovered, day after day. He relied heavily on the grocery store delivery service. That, too, left debris that was never removed. The Old House was taking on the odor of a garbage dump. Decay was consuming it as well as its owner.
Barnabas relied on Willie for everything. Every morning he would smell coffee brewing; its aroma wafting upstairs to his room. Willie would bring his tray, as ordered, at exactly 8am. He'd hear the knock on the door, allow Willie entrance, and watch as he'd put the tray down near his bed and then anxiously await Barnabas' approval of the coffee, two pieces of toast, three minute soft boiled egg cracked open in a china egg cup, and melange of fresh fruit in season. The meal never varied yet Willie would always wait for Barnabas' nod of approval so he could take his leave. He was like a stray dog accepting every crumb of affection for a job well done. He was that starved for the touch of human kindness.
Barnabas would eat slowly; savoring every morsel. Then he would bath and dress for the day. If he felt generous, he'd bring the tray down with dirty dishes for Willie to wash. Most of the time, he didn't. He's leave his room in disarray with the bathroom littered with water and wet towels; laundry in a heap; the bed unmade with assorted selected and discarded clothing thrown hither and yon and the breakfast dishes left on the table.
When he returned from his daily routine of visiting his relatives and handling business matters, the Old House would be immaculate. Everything would be in its place including Willie running endless errands or working on the restoration. He didn't allow Willie much freedom except for the occasional Sunday and evening off. Willie would disappear for hours and always return happy, sometimes giddy. He never understood the boy nor did he want to. Willie was his servant to be used as dictated by his own upbringing. And, by their blood connection.
Although no longer a vampire and unable to use mind control on him, Barnabas knew Willie's blood still contained the unholy cells when he first bit him. Subsequent feedings brought forth more cells into his system until he was conditioned to accept Barnabas as his master. He never thought about the blood transfusion Willie had received. He just assumed the unholy cells had attached themselves like leeches to internal mechanisms unknown to him.
Yet, somehow, Willie retained his survival instincts and managed some control over his life. As little as it was, Willie accepted it and used it to his advantage when necessary.
Barnabas was not happy without Willie. His servant, his slave, his one-time blood partner, had been away too long. Trask had not succeeded in seducing Willie, Barnabas concluded. Otherwise, Trask would have kept their pre-arranged weekly update appointments. He'd have to visit Trask himself and demand Willie's return, if necessary. He and the Old House just weren't the same without Willie. And why should that matter, Barnabas thought; he's only my servant.
But, it did matter. Somewhere in Barnabas' brain, he knew Willie RAN the Old House. He kept it going, surviving, growing. He was turning it into the showpiece it would become someday. Gnawing at his memories, Barnabas remembered the old Willie and how much he had changed for the better. He missed him...he wanted him back!
It was late. Another lonely day. He extinguished the candles in the drawing room and started for the foyer. Suddenly, he saw a little girl coming down the stairs.
"Who are you, little girl?" he commanded of the spirit.
"Who am I?...Who am I?...Let's play a game!" she responded.
"Stop being silly, child. Who are you? One of David's friends?"
"Oh, Barnabas, you do not know your own sister?" She stopped at the end of stairs, bouncing her ball, and looking at Barnabas.
"Sister?! I have...no...sister" he forcefully announced and then softly finished, trying to recollect where he had seen her.
"I am Sarah, Barnabas. I've come to help you."
"Help me?! I need no one's help."
"Yes, you do. Where is Willie? I cannot find him. He will play with me."
"He would..." Barnabas off handedly said, disgusted with his infantile servant. "I've sent him away for his own good."
"But it's not for HIS OWN good. It's for YOURS. And this is selfish, Barnabas. My brother was never selfish...or mean...or bad." Barnabas pondered what she had said.
"I do not understand, little girl. I mean, Sarah. I am not mean or bad. I am Barnabas."
"Look into your heart. Try to remember what you were like...a long time ago." Barnabas sat in a wing-back chair near the fireplace. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.
Why does this little girl have such a calming effect on me, he thought. He fell into a deep sleep full of swirling colors and shapes and sudden bursts of exploding stars.
He was back with his family. Joshua and Naomi, his Uncle Jeremiah and Sarah.....Yes! he did have a sister named Sarah. They were awaiting the arrival of someone from a far off island named Martinique. He remembered lushed island sights now. The large, dark green leaves hugging the white washed home of a blond island beauty named Angelique. She was not his betrothed nor his beloved but he visited her often and found himself experiencing the most passionate sex he had ever had. Her love was like the seasonal hurricanes that would consume the entire island: lashing and licking her way across turgid unyielding landmarks; then twisting and turning her needs in a new path until all sense of direction was lost to the unfortunate wanderer. Succumbing to the onslaught that would wreak havoc with mind and body, Barnabas let the storm ride him until he was spent with sweat and exhaustion. When the white cloud floated off him, he awoke to azure skies; the salty air, clean and cool, drifted over his nude form. He was filled with an overwhelming desire to remain in her bed forever.
Suddenly, a darkness came over his eyes and a feeling of suffocation. Feeling his surroundings,he ascertained that he was in a rectangular box. His fingers clawed at the tufted silk lining looking for a way out. There was none. It was then that he realized he was a prisoner in his own coffin: never to see daylight again...never to feel the sun's warmth...never to live as a human but only as the undead...only as a vampire!
Screaming in horror, he awoke from his induced trance.
"Do you now know who did this to you?" Sarah asked.
"Angelique!" Barnabas roared with hate.
"You must save Willie, Barnabas. He is my friend."
"Yes. Yes, I must! But how, dear Sarah? How?"
"You know how, Barnabas. You must stop her! You must! Or all will be lost!"
Barnabas collapsed into his chair exhausted from the horrible nightmare. He cautiously closed his eyes again; afraid another replay of history would be revealed. Instead, reasoning was forcing its way through the spell. He kept thinking back, day by day, reliving his awful treatment of faithful Willie. How could he have tried to force himself on him? It wasn't in his nature to begin with. Or making him work endless hours repairing the Old House until he collapsed one day from exhaustion.
"And what did you do, Barnabas?" he asked himself. "You threw cold water on him and told him to finish his work, clean up the mess, bring in firewood and prepare his supper," his mind replied. "And, poor Willie, fearing the worst, did as he as he was told."
"Oh, the shame! How could I have done this? I'm not a vampire anymore? Why?"
And, then he remembered. He had sent Willie off to Bangor for restoration supplies, slapping him on the back, and promising him that he would try...only try...to straighten up the house so Willie wouldn't have to do it upon his return. He made a cursory glance at the rooms, pleased that all looked well, and went through the kitchen to the patio. Willie had set up the grill with new charcoal briquets and cleaned the white metal summer furniture that sat on the flagstones. The back of the Old House overlooked a long expanse of newly cut grass(courtesy of Willie)before it ended in a fence of dense forest that ran down to the ocean.
Barnabas was pleased at the planned gathering. He was looking forward to seeing Julia and Professor Stokes. They spent alot of time together for two people who said they were "just friends." He felt a flicker of jealousy or was it just the electricity in the air. A summer storm lingered off the coast and possibly would hit land later in the day. But for now, he wanted the evening to be full of grassy smells, smoky ribs, fireflies, and warm breezes. Willie had planned on lemonade and iced tea spiked with vodka or gin but Barnabas didn't think that would be appropriate to surprise their guests with a buzz. Unadulterated drinks would do; sherry or brandy would be served just at sunset. It was all planned. He was happy.
Until.........
"BUBBLE, BUBBLE, TOIL AND TROUBLE"
The waterspout appeared near the woods and lazily twirled toward the patio. As it came closer, a clearer image developed: wispy white diaphanous swirls formed a gown; sunny glints became blond hair; blue dots, blue orbs. Floating in the air, Angelique looked ALMOST angelic! She was far from it.
"Angelique! What are you doing here? Who has sent you?" Barnabas stood aghast, watching her float in front of him.
"Nicholas has given me another chance to redeem myself," she innocently replied.
"He is a fool for doing so!" He lunged at her but she floated away from his grasp.
"Do not be unkind, Barnabas. I have come to make us one."
"I do not wish to be with you now or ever!"
"But, Barnabas," Angelique descended to the ground in solid form, lovingly caressing his cheek with her hand. "We were meant for each other a long time ago."
"Your spell ruined my life. I lost everything because of you!" He pulled her hand away from his cheek and twisted it cruelly.
"You lost Josette by deceiving me! And I've come for revenge!" Her twisted wrist slipped out of his grip by vanishing.
"You've already cursed my life. What more can you do?" They parried their positions like fencing partners, each looking for the others weakness and strengths.
"More. Much more. I have tried to perfect my spells and, I think, I have found one that will make you want me. No...not want me. Lust for me! Yes, that is what I want from you, Barnabas. I want you to lust after me. I want you to remember those nights in Martinique when I rode your cock until you cried with relief. When I sucked you...all of you...down my throat and you were pleased that I swallowed your cum."
Barnabas was embarassed that what she had said was true. He had used her more than once to satisfy his hunger. He had thought it was love but it was by far lust over love. He was sowing his wild oats like all men did of the time, before they married the virginal bride. He could never see Josette as adventuress in bed as Angelique. That's what mistresses were for, he reasoned.
"Yes, I remember, " he conceded. "But it is in the past, Angelique. Haven't we matured beyond carnal desires?"
"You may have but I haven't. I long for those nights again. No one has satisfied me as much as you have."
"Angelique, please, have you no shame?"
"No! Not when it comes to you," she screamed. With a murderous look, Angelique swirled into a tempest and disappeared. Barnabas shook his head in anger and disbelief. She had shown herself at the wrong time and for the wrong reason. The clear evening for dining changed to a cold, damp wind. Barnabas turned to look at the sky and saw sweeping brushes of rose, deep purple and grey smear the heavenly blue canvas.
The wind hit his face like a slap; it stung. It blew his dark hair flat to his skull. He closed his eye's against the biting hard rain. His forehead began to tighten; throbbing with piercing pain that made him scream. He held his head with his hands, willing the pain to stop...and it did, much to his amazement. His head rose up, surprised that a mere thought vanquished the torment.
"WILLIE!!!!!"he called. No one came. "WILLIE!!!!!" he called again. Still no came.
Barnabas left the patio for the kitchen. He strode with conviction looking for his servant. He checked everywhere and couldn't find him. Where was he? Why wasn't he here to attend to my needs? Questions made his head hurt again. He must find him! Angelique had said she wanted him lustful and he was...for Willie!
Within the hour, Willie parked his car in the driveway. The Old House didn't have a garage, only a condemned barn. He left the restoration equipment in the trunk since he was anxious to prepare the BBQ and the enjoy the evening. When he got of his car, he noticed the gravel driveway and flagstones that led to the front door were wet. Strange, he thought, since it had been clear skies all the way home.
Willie came through the front door full of joie de vivre. He had a good day! After cooking the BBQ tonight and cleaning up, he'd be off to surprise Dianna with a drive to the shore to watch the black pearlescent ocean make sweeping gestures at the beach. Willie had some "sweeping gestures" in mind, too. After being with a variety of women, you might know, he thought, that he'd fall in love with a virgin who would hold out for the wedding band. But, that was okay. He was in love with her and would wait till hell froze over to have her.
"Barn! Hey, Barnabas, I'm home! Gee, the house looks great!" he said, scanning the drawing room. "I'll just wash up, change, and get the grill cookin'." He started for the stairs when he heard Barnabas' deep baritone emanate from nowhere in particular.
"Willie, I must see you," Barnabas said clearly, distinctly, and without malice.
"Hey, Barnabas, I don't have time for games. Where the hell are you?" He looked up the stairs and glanced into the drawing room. He saw no one.
He came back downstairs and jauntily started for the cellar door when Barnabas opened it.
"Come, Willie, you'll like it down here. I have something to show you," he beckoned, his forefinger curling back and forth to entice him; a wry look of glee pasted on his face like a mask.
Hesitant, Willie knew something was wrong. Barnabas looked viscious. A scowl had replaced his friendly, smiling visage of only a few hours ago. If he didn't know better, he thought, he could almost see his fangs starting to descend.
"No, Barnabas. I don't think so! What happened to you? Who came here?" Willie started to back away from the cellar door as Barnabas came forward after him.
"No one's been here, Willie. I've been waiting for you...waiting too long." The lustful look in Barnabas' eyes made Willie start to sweat and look for an exit. He made a dash for the front door but Barnabas was upon him before he could turn the knob.
"Let's go upstairs, Willie. To your room," Barnabas suggested. Willie looked into his hollow eyes. He saw nothing but a black abyss. His friend was gone.
Barnabas took Willie's arm, and with some effort, started to forcefully guide him up the stairs.
Willie found his voice and stopped the ascent.
"Please, Barnabas. Don't kill me! I'll do anything! Just let me live. I've got plans for tonight with...." his pleading was interrupted.
"You have NO plans, Willie! You will be with me tonight. And, I have no intention of killing you...yet, that is. And it wouldn't be done here. You'd dig your own grave in the secret room of the mausoleum and before you finished with the last shovel of dirt, you'd be in that grave.....DEAD!"
Barnabas' hands tightened like a vise on Willie's arm as they took each creaking step, one by one. Willie reluctantly followed Barnabas' urging, not wanting to incur more of his wrath.
When they reached Willie's room, Barnabas commanded:
"Open it."
"Please, Barnabas, don't hurt me," Willie begged, hating himself for letting Barnabas overpower him so easily.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Willie. I have plans for you and I. We're going to get to know each other. Now, open the door," he purred quietly.
Willie turned the knob to his room and slowly opened it. He could feel Barnabas' presence behind him, urging him to enter. He turned to look at Barnabas, hoping that this was a mistake. But Barnabas' lifeless eyes bored into Willie, pushing him backwards into the room and to his doom with Reverend Trask.
to be continued..........