Subj: Unicorn Rising Ch. 9
Date: 6/18/00 10:17:11 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Charlene
Joe Haskell closed the door to his room at the Collinsport Inn. His mind was racing. He was almost in a panic. Almost. He had spent 2 years at Wyndcliffe and he had learned not to panic. There was a werewolf in Collinsport. He knew it wasn't his cousin Chris. The last letter he had from Chris came from Los Angeles two months ago. Chris had no reason to return here. No, this isn't Chris.
"But who?" Joe wondered aloud, "Who. And what do I do about it."
Joe paced his room like a caged tiger as he thought about the situation. He couldn't go to Sheriff Patterson, he certainly wouldn't believe him. The last time Joe saw George Patterson, he was shipping Joe off to Wyndcliffe. Suddenly, he stopped pacing. He knew who he could go to. He knew who he could talk to about the werewolf. Joe Haskell almost raced to his phone.
He listened as the phone rang. No answer. Well, he'd just go over. If no one was home, he'd wait.
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Barnabas Collins paced the drawing room of the Old House. Since his treatments had progressed, he had been able to endure limited sunlight mostly during the late afternoon. He was no longer confined to the coffin. Early morning sun was too strong for him, though. Willie had installed heavy drapes on all the windows in the house; morning sun no longer entered the Old House. This morning, even this progression did not bring him optimism. This morning, his thoughts were heavy with the events of the last few day. Heavy with worry over Quentin.
Barnabas recalled how he had felt when the vampire curse was returned to him. The sheer agony he had endured. Now to know Quentin would endure the same feelings. The guilt, the self-loathing. A rage swelled within him towards Andreas Petofi, a primal -- vampire-- rage.
He turned as he heard the front door open and close. He waited. Quentin walked into the archway. His clothes in tatters, bloodstains everywhere. But Barnabas' was more concerned with the look on his cousin's face. He knew what Quentin felt, he was the only one who truly could understand.
"Quentin," he began.
"It happened again Barnabas. Dear God it happened again." Quentin moved into the room falling down into a chair. His elbows rested on his knees, his head rested in his hands. "How?" he asked.
Barnabas moved closer to his cousin, "I don't know. But we'll find out. "
"The portrait?" Quentin said as his worried blue eyes looked imploringly at his cousin.
"I've sent Willie to check on it. We'll know later today. "
"I've killed again Barnabas. " Quentin said softly, "And I don't even know who."
The front door opened and closed again. Barnabas and Quentin watched as Julia Hoffman entered the room.
"Julia, I'm glad you're here." said Barnabas.
She smiled at Barnabas as she walked over to Quentin. "I brought you a change of clothes."
He looked up at her with a half-smile taking the clothes she offered, "Thank you."
"Eliot Stokes believes he may have found a way to defeat Petofi."
"How." demanded Quentin.
"We're not exactly sure, but he believes we can use Hecate to defeat Petofi."
"Hecate!!" Quentin said, his eyes growing wide at the thought.
"Eliot went to Portland in search of an ancient artifact to aid us."
"And he's going to find it in Portland?" Quentin said, disbelief dripping from every word. "I'm going up to change." He stood heading for the stairs, stopping only long enough to grab the brandy decanter and a glass.
"I know how he feels." Barnabas stated.
"I know you do." Julia responded putting a caring hand on his shoulder. "We'll defeat Petofi."
There was a knock at the door. Barnabas and Julia looked at each other.
"I'll get it." Julia stated and headed toward the door. As she opened the door her eyes were greeted by a young man she had never seen before. " Yes, can I help you?"
He handed her an envelope, "This is for Quentin Collins." he said, turning around leaving the Old House.
Julia shut the door heading into the drawing room, envelope in hand.
"For Quentin?" Barnabas asked, "Who knew he would be here?"
"Petofi." Julia replied.
Barnabas took the envelope and opened it. After he read the contents he threw the note across the room. Julia crossed the room retrieving the paper. Unfolding it she read the contents:
" I hope you enjoyed last night's surprise. We'll have to do it again. A.P."
Julia's eyes meet Barnabas'. The look in his eyes caused an involuntary shudder.
"Petofi will pay for this, Julia. I promise you."
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Roger Collins entered the great house of Collinwood and traversed the foyer to the drawing room where his sister and niece sat.
"I'm glad you're both here." he began
"Roger, why are you home so early, it's not even lunch time." said Liz.
"A girl was killed last night on the beach near our property."
"A girl. Who?" asked Carolyn.
"Sally Porter, from the apothecary."
"I know her. We were in school together. Mother this is awful."
"How was she killed Roger?"
"Savagely. Like those killings a few years ago.They don't know if it was an animal or a madman that did this. Carolyn, I want you to stay in when it's dark until its safe again."
"Yes Uncle Roger." Carolyn said with a sigh, Carolyn wasn't one who enjoyed compliance.
"Where is Quentin?" Roger inquired.
"I don't think he came home last night." Carolyn said with a smile, "I think he's probably seeing someone."
"Really." Roger said indignantly.
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Quentin Collins came down the stairs. This time he looked like Quentin. He walked into the drawing room handing the empty decanter to Barnabas, "You're out of brandy." he slurred.
"Quentin, Petofi sent a note. He was responsible for last night."
"Well," Quentin started stretching the sound of the word with mock laughter, "how nice of him to write. And here we thought he didn't care. Have we heard from Willie about the portrait?"
"Not yet. I was going back to Collinwood, he said he would call and let us know." Julia said.
"No Julia, stay here with Barnabas. I want to talk to Willie. I have to know as soon as possible. I'll come back when I know. Barnabas, you need to get more brandy and a phone." With that Quentin Collins headed towards the double doors and further to Collinwood.
He worried about the portrait. If Petofi had it, the return of the curse was assured. Night after night he would become the monster he dreaded most. The monster of his nightmares. For it was in his dreams that Quentin Collins remembered what the werewolf did. It sickened him, waking him in cold sweats, the brutality of the beast scarring him deep in his soul.
But, if Petofi didn't have the portrait, how could last night be explained. Could it? Does Petofi have that type of power? Quentin Collins thought he hated Petofi when Petofi had tried to steal his body; but at this moment Quentin felt that he hated him more. He entered Collinwood to await Willie's call.
"Quentin!" Roger began as Quentin entered the great hall, "Quentin, where have you been? Exactly, what were you doing last night?"
"Hhh. Roger what do you think you're doing? I don't answer to you."
"Well. It's apparent you've been drinking recently. Rather early wouldn't you say?"
"Roger, I'm not in the mood." said Quentin as he walked toward the bar.
"Roger!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "What is the meaning of this."
"That Porter girl was killed last night Liz. I would like an explanation of his whereabouts." Roger said pointing at Quentin.
"Excuse me! How are the two connected?" asked Quentin as his anger flared.
"That's what I am trying to discover."
"Are you accusing me of something Roger." Quentin asked moving face to face with Roger.
"Peter Anderson told me about those girls in London. Told me about the rumors concerning you and Barnabas and what happened to those girls. Until you and Barnabas moved here, Collinsport was not visited by these mysterious deaths. I would like to know the connection." Roger said pompously.
Quentin flew into a rage, "Peter Anderson is a royal liar! That's not even his name. I am not going to be subjected to an interrogation by you. Do you really think that Barnabas and I go around preying on young girls? Is that what you think of us?" He threw his glass across the room. He hadn't been angered by his family like this since he and Edward quarreled.
"That will be enough out of both of you." Elizabeth stated. "Roger, you owe Quentin an apology."
"Liz, Peter Anderson told me ... "
"Roger. I don't care what this Mr. Anderson told you. This is Quentin and Barnabas that you've said something terrible about. They are family. And you know them. You know they couldn't have had anything to do with what happened to Sally Porter. Roger I don't know how you could have said what you did, ..."
Quentin stood looking out the window. His thoughts went to the girl he knew he had killed last night. Sally Porter. She worked at the apothecary. He had seen her around the village. She was a nice girl. He had killed her. No! The werewolf had killed her. Petofi killed her, really. And Petofi was now sowing the seeds of doubt with his own family. Quentin's rage toward Petofi burned like a fire.
The phone rang bringing Quentin out of his thoughts. He raced across the room.
"Hello! Willie, what ... it is. Thanks. "
Quentin hung the phone up and turned to the stares of Roger, Elizabeth and Carolyn.
"I'm going to the Old House." he said and walked out.
At the Old House Barnabas paced. He hated waiting for news. Julia watched him from a chair. She tried talking to him,
"Maybe I should have went with Quentin."
"He'll be here soon." Barnabas replied as he continued to pace. He stopped only when he heard the doors open.
"Quentin??"
"The portrait's safe, which is more than I can say for us Barnabas."
"What do you mean?"
"Petofi, as Mr. Peter Anderson, has told Roger that when you and I lived in London girls went missing."
"What?"
"Roger wanted to know where I was last night and if I had anything to do with Sally Porter's death. Of course, I couldn't tell him that I turned into a werewolf and ripped the pore girl to shreds!!!" Quentin growled in anger.
"Why would Petofi do that Barnabas? Why would he tell Roger such lies?"
"Divide and conquer, Julia. Petofi's a student of military history. He's trying to isolate Quentin and I from the family. Then he can freely wreck havoc with their lives without us being able to do anything about it."
"Then he can turn his full attention to us." Quentin added.
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Eliot Stokes briskly walked towards his apartment. He was pleased with the results of his trip to Portland. He had more research that he wanted to do before meeting with Barnabas and Quentin later this evening. As he neared his apartment door, he saw the shadow of a man near his door. Approaching, he saw that he recognized the young man.
"Why Joe Haskell, whatever are you doing here?"
"Hello Professor. I need your help. Can we talk inside?"
"Certainly Joe, certainly. Do come in."
"Can I help you with that package Professor?" Joe said of the bulky package Eliot Stokes carried under his arm.
"No. That's quite all right Joe. Do come in." As the two men entered the apartment, Eliot Stokes placed his package on the secretary near the door. Turning to his guest he said, "How can I help you Joe?"
"Have you heard about Sally Porter's death?"
"Yes, yes, most unfortunate. How does that concern you?"
"I know what killed her. I know you're going to think I'm mad. My recent commitment to Wyndcliffe will probably reinforce that conviction. But Sally was killed by a werewolf."
"A werewolf."
"Yes. Before I went to Wyndcliffe, what caused me to have my breakdown, I saw a werewolf. At first I couldn't handle that. There was so much going on here in Collinsport. so much that wasn't ... normal. It took me a while to realize that it had all happened, that it was all true. Now, I don't know who the werewolf is, but I know that's what killed Sally Porter. I came to you because you were the only one I could think of who might believe me. Do you believe me Professor?"
"Yes Joe, I believe you. In fact I know you're right, but the werewolf isn't the real threat."
"Not a threat?"
"No, the real threat is Count Petofi. He caused the werewolf's appearance last night, there was no full moon. Joe, would you like to help us defeat Petofi?"
"Us, Professor? Who?"