Subj: Petofi's Maze part 6
Date: 2/6/99 6:29:36 PM Central Standard Time
From: miranda

Chapter 6

As Barnabas and Quentin sat in the drawing room in great house of Collinwood they debated the possibility of telling Chris Jennings the truth about Quentin. Barnabas had introduced Quentin as yet another cousin from abroad and a descendant of the original Quentin Collins who left Collinwood in the late 1890's. Any concerns of Quentin possibly being an impostor were allayed when Barnabas shared with the family that he and Quentin were once aquatinted with each other a long time ago and that he indeed was a Collins. So Quentin and Beth began to reside with Barnabas in the Old House and were both given free access to every area of the great estate. Chris had been introduced to Quentin under the same guise as the Collins family and the question of including him in Quentin's predicament was the source of conjecture.

"He certainly would be open to believing my story," Quentin offered.

"Perhaps you could even be a source of encouragement to him," Barnabas said while gazing into the fire. "He actually began to stay transformed in the werewolf form after sunrise. He seems so depressed because Julia and I have not been able to find a cure."

"I know what that's like," Quentin said frowning.

They sat both quietly thinking for a few minutes. "Quentin, are you quite sure there is nothing you learned in the past seventy years that could even be a lead we could follow?"

"Believe me Barnabas, there is no rumor or legend that Beth and I haven't investigated," Quentin stated. "We spent many years going from gypsy village to gypsy village. We heard many tales from them about Petofi, none of them turned out to be true." Quentin smiled to himself and added, "Even the Collins' family seemed to have their own legends."

Barnabas raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there have been other times I returned to Collinwood claiming to be my own descendant. Once I did so in order to visit Jamison on his deathbed. I had no fear that he would give me away because he was quite senile and no one would have given credence to anything he said. When I spoke to him, he did actually seem to know who I was. He started to talk about Petofi. He said Petofi possessed him again when he was master of Collinwood and used him to build a maze of some sort linking the Old House with Collinwood. He said Petofi hired some transients to do the work in secret and afterwards killed them and left their bodies in the maze to rot. Jamison claimed the entire family seemed to be walking zombies during that time, never questioning what was being done on the estate. Afterwards no one remembered the events, but Jamison himself who only remembered bits and pieces. Jamison said that Petofi hid something in the maze that could cause his destruction. Something of which he was deathly afraid."

"Quentin this could be true. Did you…"

"Yes Barnabas," Quentin cut him off, "like a fool I searched and searched and found nothing. I can't tell you how much time I devoted to exploring the basements of both houses searching every nook, cranny, and secret passage I knew as a boy."

"It was a fantasy then," Barnabas said.

Quentin sighed, "Sadly, yes."

"Don't lose hope Quentin. Everyone has something or someone that can render him powerless or dead. We must discover what would do this to Petofi."

The crashing of the rough surf on the sandy shores in Collinsport interrupted the silence of the evening. A young fisherman cast his line into the black ocean not really expecting a catch, but enjoying the rocky shore too much to leave, despite the darkness ushered in by the sunset.

Deep in thought, he neglected to notice the movement in the sand off to his right next to the jetty. The moist sand puckered and flattened several times before a human hand clawed its way free. Another hand emerged and then Tom Jennings' head pushed its way out. Sand was deeply imbedded in his hair and stuck to his face. Tom crawled out of his "tomb" and stood quietly observing the fisherman. So engrossed was he with the smell of blood pulsing through the young man's veins, Tom didn't even take a moment to ensure they were alone. With speed no human eye could possibly register Tom lunged at the young fisherman with animal-like fierceness, forcing him to the ground. Tom plunged his razor-sharp fangs into the man's jugular. Easily subduing him, Tom drank deeply and experienced the incomprehensible rapture a vampire only feels when draining the very life out of a living being.