Subj: Unicorn Rising CH. 7
Date: 6/4/00 2:43:58 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Charlene
Thunder roared and rumbled in the Collinsport sky. Lightning flashed brilliantly, casting long shadows from the Old House in the pre dawn hours. Inside the old manor Barnabas and Quentin sat alone in the drawing room, Julia and Willie having retired hours earlier. Their encounters with Petofi and the revelation of their secrets to Stokes had left them both emotionally drained.
"Well, this has been an evening." Quentin said breaking the silence that had engulfed the two cousins for the last half-hour.
"That's an understatement."
"I don't suppose we could have NOT told Stokes."
"I don't suppose that we could."
"You're a sterling conversationalist, do you know that?"
"I'm worried Quentin. Worried about what Petofi is going to do?" Barnabas said as he moved toward the great window overlooking the front grounds. He watched the blackness of the sky streaked with jagged deadly lightning. He had seen many such storms in this house on the rocky Maine shore. He wondered, if he would see many more.
"I am too." Quentin replied with a sigh. "This Aristede business has me a little concerned as well."
"Yes. Other than Garth Blackwood, I didn't know Petofi had necromancial powers. And you said that this WAS Aristede, not some representation of him as Blackwood was."
"Yes. It was the same old Aristede. Why Petofi would raise him from the dead I don't know. Petofi was the one who had him killed in the first place."
"With Petofi, I know he had a reason. To upset the two of us, if nothing else."
Quentin got up from his chair and headed toward the brandy decanter, "Have another drink?"
"No, you go ahead. Brandy isn't exactly what I'd like right now." Barnabas said returning his gaze out the window. Why did it seem that the bloodlust was strongest when he felt pressured. Like an alcoholic, he wanted his 'drink', yet, he knew he couldn't afford to start that now.
Quentin watched his cousin sympathetically. He remembered his own feelings when the werewolf curse ravaged his soul. If not for the portrait ...
"Barnabas ... "
"I'll be fine Quentin. Don't worry about me, I can control my urges. Worry about Petofi, what he's going to do. He's going to attack our family I'm afraid. And I don't know how we can prevent it."
Quentin growled at the thought. What was Petofi planning.
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"Come in Mr. Collins."
"Thank you Aristede." Roger said as he entered the House by the Sea.
"Mr. Anderson is waiting for you in the drawing room. May I take your coat?"
"Yes, yes. Here you go. I can show myself in." Roger left the foyer and moved into the drawing room. He saw Peter Anderson standing by a large mahogany music stand obviously reading a score.
"Good Morning Roger." Petofi called out, his eyes never leaving the score he was reading.
"It's so nice of you to invite me to breakfast, Mr. Anderson."
"Peter, please. It was my pleasure, dear boy." he replied turning around to study his guest. "Won't you please sit down. Aristede will bring our breakfast shortly."
"Why did you want to see me this morning?" Roger asked.
"Why to get to know you better. I think we can become grand friends. Besides, you're Barnabas and Quentin's 'cousin'. I feel it my duty to become better acquainted with you."
"Yes, Quentin." Roger sighed, "I'm afraid I must apologize for his behavior yesterday."
"No need dear boy, no need. Anyone who knows Quentin realizes his abruptness is part of his charm. I took no offense to his behavior. There's no need to apologize."
"So, you knew Barnabas and Quentin in London. I never knew that the two of them knew each other before moving here."
"That's understandable, I suppose. If it had been me, I suppose that I wouldn't have wanted to bring up that nasty business either."
Roger's curiosity was piqued. He took a cup of tea offered by Aristede and asked 'Peter Anderson', " What 'nasty business' are you referring to?"
"In London. There was a missing girl. Barnabas and Quentin knew her and talk naturally sprang up."
"You don't mean that people thought Barnabas or Quentin had anything to do with this girl's disappearance?" Roger said indignantly.
"I never did, just some people. They felt the Collins' were too involved with the black arts and that made them a target."
Roger almost choked on his tea, "The Black Arts!?! Whatever do you mean?"
"Nothing at all. We shouldn't even be discussing this. It was all so long ago. Besides, you know your cousins very well. There haven't been any missing girls in Collinsport since their arrival, now have there." Petofi said with a smile. He could read the thoughts in Roger Collins mind, memories of incidents in the recent past, memories of Maggie Evans disappearance. Yes, questions were forming. This was good. "Are you interested in antiques, Roger?"
"What, oh, antiques. Yes, yes, I'm rather fond of antiques." he said pushing his many questions to the back of his mind.
"Let me show you this mirror of mine. The glass came from the castle of Storisende. Let me show you." Petofi rose, followed by Roger Collins, and went into the adjacent room. There was a grand mirror hanging over the fireplace. The frame was ornate gold. The glass, however, had an usually quality. At first glance it was a smoky gray color. Nothing was clearly discernible in the glass.
"How odd?" said Roger, "The glass isn't clear. I can't really see anything."
"Look closer Roger, look closer and you will see." said Petofi as he raised the hand towards the mirror, " You will see the destruction of the Collins Family."
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"Excellency, you've seemed rather pleased since Roger Collins left. What did you do?"
"Planted the first seeds of doubt about Barnabas and Quentin. Now I have a job for you."
"Anything, Excellency."
"I want you to go to Collinwood, to the West Wing. Bring me something of Quentin's. A personal belonging. Something that would have touched his person."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, dear Aristede, I am going to return the curse to Quentin."
"But, " Aristede began "I thought you needed the portrait to do that?"
"On a permanent basis, I do. But, for tonight, I can return the curse."
"But Excellency, there's no full moon tonight."
"There won't have to be. Quentin will learn the extent of my powers tonight. Now go Aristede."
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Night fell over Collinwood. Julia entered the great double doors of the Old House and headed towards the drawing room.
"Barnabas, has Eliot arrived yet."
Barnabas Collins looked up from his book into the face of his friend Julia Hoffman.
"No. Where's Quentin?"
"He was on the phone when I left, said he'd be right over. What are you reading?"
"Greek mythology. Since we discovered the source of Petofi's powers is the Greek gods, I wanted to refresh my memory before meting with Eliot tonight."
Quentin Collins hurried down the path towards the Old House. The chill in the air sent a shiver to his bones. Suddenly, he was in pain. The pain started in his stomach almost doubling him over, then shot throughout his body.
"What, ohhh, I ... Oh God!!!!" he said, as the familiarity of the pain crept into his conscious mind. "Oh God, NO!!!!" He looked into the sky at the crescent shaped moon. This was impossible. The portrait prevented this, and there's no full moon. This can't be happening.
Quentin Collins fell to the ground. His body writhed in agonizing pain. He watched as his hand transformed into a wolf's paw. That was the last he consciously remembered.
Barnabas answered the knock at his door, "Eliot, come in."
"Thank you Barnabas." replied Eliot Stokes as he entered the house.
Before Barnabas shut the door, they heard the unmistakable howl of a wolf in the woods, close to the Old House. Barnabas turned and moved onto the porch, the sound was unforgettable. He looked up, the moon wasn't full, but the howl came again.
"Oh Quentin. No!"