Subj: Dark Shadows: Mirror/Mirror -- 7
Date: 2/5/99 12:05:13 PM Central Standard Time
From: DSRules

Julia spun around, looking for all the world like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Barnabas! We were just . . . "

And then she realized that she had no reason to hide her motives from her old friend. She gathered her wits together and tried again. "We were just following up on a lead that we had about a possible cure for Quentin. Flowers that bloom in the spring." She had to fight a foolish impulse to add 'tra-la' to the end of her sentence.

"Really? Where did you get this 'lead' from?"

"From a ghost, actually," she responded. "A beautiful woman with blonde hair and . . . ." Her voice faded as she realized who the spirit who had helped them had been. It hadn't occurred to Julia immediately, because when he married Sabrina, Barnabas had taken Angelique's portrait down and put it into storage in deference to his new wife's position as mistress of the Old House.

"I can't believe Angelique would help me," Julia said, in a astonished tone of voice, "considering our past history."

The warm glow of remembrance faded from Barnabas' eyes as he heard the pain in Julia's voice. "Julia, you know that she doesn't hold you responsible for that. What happened was entirely Josette's fault."

"I know that *you* tell me that, but it's still hard to believe that she really feels that way."

"She really does, Julia. Believe me. I know Angelique better than anyone else."

Julia decided, then, to ask her friend something that had been on her mind for a while. "Have you ever considered putting Angelique's portrait back up?"

"Of course not! Sabrina's mistress here now, and I don't want her to feel uncomfortable in any way."

"Barnabas, has it ever occurred to you that it might make her feel better to be reminded that you, also, are mourning the loss of your soulmate?"

* * * * *

Claudius smiled with what little warmth he had left in his heart as he looked at the picture of his sister. It had been taken the day of her college graduation in 1989, a mere month before she'd been murdered by that bastard, Barnabas Collins. What truly rankled was that Collins never denied his involvement in her murder, but the police claimed that there was insufficient evidence, which Claudius was certain was because the Collinses had paid off the police.

Lorraine had insisted that the photo include a specific floral arrangement (gardenias -- where ever did Lorraine pick up an affection for gardenias?), and then she asked for an extra copy of that picture, but she wouldn't tell anyone what she wanted the extra picture for. Claudius often wondered what became of that copy.

* * * * *

{Barnabas, has it ever occurred to you that it might make her feel better to be reminded that you, also, are mourning the loss of your soulmate?} Julia's words stayed with him as Barnabas walked back to the room he shared with Sabrina. Although they didn't have a sexual relationship -- and they might never have one, as long as they each continued mourning their respective loves -- they both found the presence of another body in the same bed an enormous comfort.

Barnabas opened the top drawer of his dresser, reached in under the socks, and pulled out the last picture he had of his soulmate. Of course, with her hazel eyes and brown hair, Lorraine Trask hadn't looked a thing like Angelique, and she insisted on keeping the name the Trasks had given her, but time and again she had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had been Angelique's reincarnation.

The photo he held in his hands had been taken on the day she had graduated from college, and she had made sure that the flowers he had sent her (gardenias -- the flower that Angelique had carried at their wedding) had been in the picture with her. She had wanted Barnabas to attend her college graduation and the party afterwards, but, considering the difficulties that had existed between the Trasks and the Collinses ever since the 18th century, they had both known that his attendance would have caused more problems than it fixed.

With horror, Barnabas remembered the day he'd come home to find Lorraine's butchered body in the drawing room and Julia washing the blood frantically from her hands. As he had lost his reason for living that day, when Father and Claudius Trask had accused him of the murder, he had never defended himself.

* * * * *

At length, the still-shaken Marissa emerged from her greenhouse and returned to the parlor to clean up the mess she had left behind. When she returned to the room, she saw that the roses had been placed in another vase and the debris from the first vase had been cleaned up.

{I'm so sorry, Quentin,} Marissa apologized to her still-absent husband for her fit of temper. {The flowers are beautiful, but they're no substitute for you. Oh, God! What am I going to do without him?} She threw herself onto the sofa and began to cry.

"What's wrong, Momma?" Marissa looked up to see her son, four year old Antonio Tobias, nicknamed Toby, watching her.

"I'm sorry, Toby." Wiping the tears from her eyes, Marissa straightened up and indicated for him to come sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. There were times that he looked so much like Quentin, looking at him broke her heart. "I've just been missing your Daddy."

"I miss him, too." Marissa wasn't sure if he even knew what he was saying. He and Kate had been three when he left on his business trip, but she had been so precocious herself as a child, that she suspected that her offspring would know what they were saying if they were explaining the theory of relativity.

"Where's Kate?" Marissa asked.

"Upstairs in the playroom."

"Why don't we go upstairs and visit her?" For the first time that day, Marissa felt her spirits lift as she and her son headed off to the west wing.

* * * * *

Eventually, Cyrus looked up from his computer screen. "Did I hear Barnabas' voice?"

"Yes, Cyrus. He was in here -- about fifteen minutes ago." Julia said with fondness in her voice for her oblivious friend.

"Oh. Well, I've been looking around on the Internet, and I've found a plethora of springtime flowers, but absolutely no idea how to narrow it down. I mean, I've got information on crocuses, daffodils, bluebonnets, buttercups, irises, tulips, something called Indian Paintbrush . . ."

"All right, Cyrus! You've convinced me!" Julia laughed. "So, how do *you* want to tackle this?"

He shrugged. "I'm not even sure what she wanted us to achieve with this. Can you remember anything else?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. . . . Cyrus, what do you know about hypnosis?"

* * * * *

After putting the old bat, Nora, to sleep again, Vicki returned to the clearing in the woods. Her circle of stones was undisturbed, which was a relief to her. At least she didn't have to go through that part of the spell again.

She reached into the bag she had carried with her, and pulled out Marissa's hairbrush. She hoped to get it back to her before she noticed that it was missing. Then she pulled out Claudius' handkerchief. It had taken quite some effort to get into Claudius' hotel room, and she'd been afraid that she would have to end up stealing a sock or a pair of his underpants or something to get this spell done, but Claudius had turned out to be a nicely old-fashioned gentleman, who still used handkerchiefs, which made Vicki's job much more pleasant than it might otherwise have been.

She ripped the handkerchief in half, and took Marissa's hair from the brush, straightening it out so that it formed one long strand. Then, gingerly, she braided the two strips of handkerchief with the strand of hair, tying the result off in a knot.

As she tied the knot, she uttered her incantation:

"I bind this knot to bring out Claudius and Marissa's love"

"I bind this knot to bring Claudius and Marissa's desire"

"Let it come to them slowly and let it grow with each passing day, so mote it be."

After she finished the incantation, she dug a shallow hole in the center of the stone circle and buried the charm there, so that no one could ever find it.

* * * * *

While Liz was walking down the corridor of St. Benedict's Episcopalian Church, she came face to face with her ex-husband, Tom Jennings.

"Hello, Liz," he said coolly.

"Tom." Her voice was equally dispassionate.

"So, what brings you to church on a Wednesday afternoon?" He asked.

"Visiting Father Trask, of course. You?"

"The same. I would like him to stop by Windcliffe to see Heather." He enjoyed watching his ex-wife flinch when he said their daughter's name. "What are you her to see Father Trask about?"

"I don't think that's any of your business." Liz said, looking her ex-husband up and down and walking past him.

"Liz!" He called out.

She turned around, fury in her eyes. "What?"

"I was wondering. I know that we've split up, but when we were still together, you and I discussed my renovating the Magruder place. Would that still be all right with you?"

"You can come by and pick up the keys from Mrs. Johnson in the morning."