Dark Shadows: Season Two (Episode 13)
Walt Chmara

*My name is Victoria Winters. I have awakened this night from a nightmare. Images of a life I once led in another time have insisted on haunting me since my return from the past four nights ago. As Mrs. Stoddard and I comforted one another upon my safe return, I saw Barnabas Collins standing behind her, and I felt icy fear. When I ask myself why, I can give myself no answer.

This gentle man, with his quaint, but romantic, fascination of an era now gone, arrived at the great house of Collinwood at almost the same time as I. He and his servant, Willie Loomis, have been restoring the original family manor on the estate to its eighteenth century glory. In a way, he and I are kindred spirits. He has shown me kindness and old-world chivalry ever since I first met him. And, yet, his very appearance these days inspires me to run from him. I have not told him this, but I am sure he senses it, and it fills me with shame and frustration.

For while some memories of my adventure in the past are quite vivid in my mind, others are lost to me. And I cannot help but wonder about the purpose of that journey. Have I forgotten something of importance?*

At the Old House, Julia Hoffman was visiting with Barnabas Collins. He had asked her to come, in light of Vicky's return from the past. He had much to say to the doctor.

"I am not accustomed to standing idle when a threat looms over me, Julia. I agreed to allow you to take charge of Victoria because you assured me you could handle her with your so-called hypnotherapy. And, yet, every night since her return, you have given me no positive word on her progress. In fact, you have given me no word at all."

He stared into the roaring flames of his fireplace as he spoke, not facing the doctor, who was seated behind him with her legs crossed.

"There was no word to give you, Barnabas. You should be glad. It means everything is under control."

Barnabas suddenly turned to face her. "How do I know that? How do *you* know that? I saw the look on her face. There was no mistaking the horror and distrust in her eyes. Where could that have possibly come from? Did she meet Barnabas Collins in the past? Did she witness a vampire attack? I stand to lose too much should she raise any suspicions against me!"

Julia remained unfazed. "You discovered all that from one look given you by a frightened young woman fresh from an abduction through time? A woman who was sentenced to be hanged as a witch, and who felt the noose tighten around her neck? Trust me, you have nothing to worry about from Victoria. She is the one who is in danger. Because of her precarious mental state, I must help her in my way at her pace if she is ever to become the person you knew ever again."

He gave her a hollow laugh. "You ask me to trust you. I trusted you and your science once before..."

Julia looked down. "For that I do apologize. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I am willing to begin your treatments anew. You know that what happened was the result of both of us losing our tempers, and not the fault of science. The cure is still your only hope of regaining a normal life."

"Normal," repeated Barnabas, as though the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "There are times when I think I shall never know normality again. You are forgetting that Angelique's curse upon me was twofold. Stalking victims at night for their blood was but the first part. The second was that all those who love me shall die. What is a normal life without love?"

"I am still here," said Julia quietly.

For a moment, Barnabas was silent. A strange look crossed his features. "What are you saying?" he inquired.

"I am saying that where there is life, there is hope," she quickly returned. "But one thing must be made clear. While under my care, you will heed what I say in the matter of your health. As a doctor, I will stand for nothing less from any of my patients. That isn't too much to ask, is it?"

Barnabas almost said that it was. The fact was he did not trust her; she had already betrayed him once. But she had also proven to him that if anyone could take away this foul malady, she could. And, right now, she was the only thing holding Victoria's possibly dangerous recollections in check. Julia had him over a barrel. The only alternative to what she was advising was to spirit Victoria away in the night and condemn her to the same wretched existence as his own. The vampire saw no problem with that, and indeed was highly motivated to do just that. But that annoying shred of humanity still left within him insisted that the dear sweet girl deserved so much better than that.

Just now, Julia had made a small dubious reference to possible feelings for him. Perhaps she did care for him, which would explain her obvious attempts at keeping Victoria and him apart. Victoria's continuing refusal to see him whenever he visited Collinwood could have been the result of the doctor's incompetence in handling the situation, or the doctor's intentional poisoning of the girl's mind. He did not know what to believe. Then, on the other hand, maybe this intelligent, icy woman was only interested in using him as her own stepping stone to medical fame and fortune. Woe be upon her, if he ever found that out.

His patience had reached its limit. He was going to take steps this evening to regain control of the matter. For the time being, however, there was no use in alerting the doctor to his own suspicions of her.

"I shall consider your most kind offer, Doctor. There is much you have given me to consider."

Victoria Winters felt like a prisoner in her room and a hostage of her own head. Since her return from her bizarre adventures in the past, her normally good memory had now failed her. It was a frustrating feeling to know that there were some things in her mind that were crying out for attention, but for some unknown reason she could not reach them.     Doctor Hoffman had explained to her that it was not an uncommon thing for a victim of a traumatic event to subconsciously block out certain unthinkable memories. The doctor had referred to it as a "defense mechanism" set up to protect her own sanity. The doctor had made it sound as if Vicky could put herself in a mental institution, if she attempted to unlock those mental barriers herself. So, as frustrating as it was, Vicky dared not make any attempt at it without Julia around to guide her through it.

She heard two gentle raps on her door.

"Come in," she invited, while sitting up in her bed.

The door opened, revealing the kindly face of Collinwood's housekeeper, Sarah Johnson.

"It's just me," smiled the elder woman. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"No change, Mrs. Johnson," Vicky gave her a sad smile in return. "Physically, I feel perfectly fine. But I'm finding it difficult to cope with a mental illness. The time traveler has returned, but her memory is in tatters. Quite the cosmic joke, wouldn't you say?"

"There, there, now," soothed Mrs. Johnson. "You're in the best of hands. Doctor Hoffman says it'll only be a matter of time, and I believe her. And, confidentially, if those memories are horrid ones, perhaps they are better off buried. The important thing is that you are safely back with us..."

A sudden vision assaulted Vicky's senses. For a moment, she seemed to be in an outdoor setting.

*"There she is!" Abigail pointed to her, vindictively. "Victoria Winters! She's the one!"*

Just as suddenly, the vision was gone. Vicky was in her room once more, with Mrs. Johnson looking at her, worriedly.

"Is there something wrong?"

There most certainly was, but Vicky wasn't about to tell her. It wasn't the first such vision she had experienced since her return to the present. Perhaps she already had one foot through the door of insanity.

"Nothing. Just a mild headache, that's all."

"Poor thing. I'll get you some aspirin and a glass of water, right away."

"Abigail!" she whispered to herself after Mrs. Johnson was gone. "Who is she? And why does that name disquiet me so?"

At the Old House, Barnabas had summoned his manservant, Willie Loomis, not long after Julia had taken her leave.

"Geez, Barnabas," Willie's face twisted into puzzlement, "You want me to spy on Doctor Hoffman?"

Barnabas was back to contemplating the lively fire dancing in the fireplace. It reminded him of the night he and Victoria danced the minuet to the melody of Josette's music box.

"`Spy´ is such a gauche term, Willie," Barnabas replied, easily. "I merely suggest that it would be in your best interest, as well as mine, if you would be...especially attentive...to the things she might say or do when I am not around."

"But...I thought you and her were friends, again! She wouldn´t need to lie to you, or nothin´!"

"I do not claim to understand this power the good doctor is exercising over Miss Winters, but my own experiences with -- shall we say, controlling the mind -- have taught me that where extracting information is possible, so is implanting it. The doctor may just as easily be blocking some of her memory from some misguided need to keep the two of us apart. I want you to bring me the slightest evidence of this, when and if you find it. Is that clear enough for you?"

Willie swallowed. "Yes, Barnabas. Very clear. Just one thing. Can´t you, like, look into Miss Winters´ mind and all, and find out for sure if that´s what´s goin´ on?"

"If it should come to that. Now, leave me. I have business to attend to."

"Sure, Barnabas."

Willie left the room in nervously small steps. He knew very well what Barnabas typically made it his `business´ to do.

Back at Collinwood, Roger Collins had poured himself a brandy, while his sister, Elizabeth, sat by the table in the great hall, lost in thought.  

"So. How much longer do you intend to baby her?" he asked.

"She's been through a harrowing experience, Roger. God only knows how you or I might have come out of it."

"You or I would have gone on with the business of living. And we have, dear sister, haven't we?"

"She isn't like either of us. I daresay she's probably never entertained an evil thought in her life."

"Mmm," Roger took a sip. "Elizabeth, have you considered the possibility of what might happen if Vicky is never normal, again?"

"Oh, Roger!"

"It *is* a possibility! When I looked in on her, today, do you know what she called me? Reverend! Now I ask you, is there anything about me that could *possibly* remind her of a clergyman?"

"Julia said it would take time, and I intend to give the poor girl as much as she needs."

Just then, they noticed Carolyn descending the stairs, looking dressed for a night out. The look on her face was almost blissful.

"Carolyn!" Elizabeth called out to her. "Where are you going?"

Carolyn froze. "I...uh...I'm going to meet Joe. At the <I>Blue Whale</I>."  

"Meet him? I don't see why he couldn't just pick you up, here. You know they haven't captured that monster, yet, and I couldn't bear to lose you, too."

"Don't worry, Mother. I carry my `protection´ with me, now, remember?" Carolyn gave her pocketbook a pat.

"That´s my girl!" cheered Roger. "Just make sure it´s loaded, okay?"

Roger had made a special trip to a particular gunsmith in order to fashion a peculiar item -- silver bullets. He had to tell the shop owner that he had a Lone Ranger fantasy since he was a kid. The owner´s eyebrows went up, but the customer was always right.

"It is. Don´t wait up."

"Have fun, Princess!" added Roger, as Carolyn disappeared out the door.  

It wasn't, of course, a perfect solution, but short of hiring body guards for each member of the family, or confining themselves to the house, what was? They could not allow the vampire, whoever he or she was, to dictate their routine. They all had lives to live, and they damn well were going to live them, monster or no. It was the Collins way.

"I don't know about this hypnosis stuff," he continued to his sister. "Vicky seemed more talkative about her exploits *before* Julia nosed in. Very strange."

"What are you implying? That Julia may have made things *worse* for her?"

Well, that may not be the case, but it sure looks that way to this layman. Oh, by the way. I received a letter from London, today."  

"Laura?" asked Elizabeth, knowingly.

Roger nodded, sadly, before taking another gulp of brandy. "They say she's taken up a new hobby. Not speaking to anyone."

Barnabas waited patiently near the edge of the woods.

He stretched his arms out with pleasure-filled anticipation, as Carolyn dashed over to him through the evening mist. They embraced when she reached him.

"It's been so long since I last heard your call," she told him, while breathlessly rubbing up against him. "I thought you had forgotten me."

"Never, dear cousin," Barnabas savored her form with his arms. "I called you because I need you to do something for me."

Carolyn began kissing his cheek. "Anything."

"I need you to monitor Victoria for me."

"Monitor?" Carolyn began to breathe rapidly, her kisses increasing in their ferocity.

"Yes. Just in case she should, by some chance, remember that I am not an ordinary man at some inopportune moment. That could be quite unhealthy for our relationship. You must tell me if she does, and also do what you must to protect my secret, short of harming her."  

"I understand," she breathed. "Now, Barnabas! Do it now!"

He complied, moving his lips along her luscious neck to just the right spot, while she moaned, eagerly. His eyes glowed with hunger, as he bit down and drew her sweet, warm blood.

*There are hands on her. She is being led somewhere through a crowd of people. Peter kisses her. She slowly moves up the wooden steps, feeling as though she is about to pass out every step of the way.

They stand her behind a noose. A noose meant for her.

"Do you have a last request?" someone asks her.

She shakes her head no.

The noose is fitted around her neck. Suddenly, there is a commotion among the crowd.

Oh, no! Peter, don't!

A single gunshot resounds. Peter slumps to the ground with a startled expression.*

"Peter!" screamed Victoria, as she sat up in bed.

"I want to thank you again for indulging me this way, Mrs. Stoddard," said Victoria, as Elizabeth drove her through the gates of Eagle Hill Cemetery the following morning.

"Nonsense, Vicky. I want to help. And, please, call me Elizabeth. You know, I've come to regard you as part of our family. Another daughter, if you don't mind me thinking of you in that way."

Victoria actually smiled. "No, not at all."

"Good. Since what happened to Daphne, well, there's been a void in my heart, which you fill quite nicely. And David was beginning to show such wonderful progress..."

"You sound as if all that is coming to an end."

Elizabeth gave her a worried look. "In light of all that has taken place recently, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to work somewhere else. I would ask you to reconsider. For David's sake. And mine. We need you."

"Elizabeth, I've never felt more welcome anywhere else than I have at Collinwood. I have no plans to leave."

Elizabeth brightened. "Splendid! Our priority right now is for you to get better. And if finding the grave of this young man you met..."

"Peter," supplied Victoria. "His name was Peter Bradford."

"Peter Bradford," repeated Elizabeth. "I'm sure the groundskeeper will be able to help us find him."

And, indeed, he was. Within twenty minutes, Victoria and Elizabeth stood alone before the headstone they had been looking for.

It was quite plain and gray. The inscription read:

PETER BRADFORD

BORN 1758 

DIED 1790

Victoria knelt down, softly running her hand through the grass before it. Elizabeth noticed a tear on the girl's cheek, but said nothing.

"It happened," Victoria said, simply. "Somehow, in the back of my mind, I was hoping it was just another bad dream. There's always one comfort to bad dreams -- when you wake up, you realize that's all they are. But here it is, written in stone. Peter died that year. And he died because of me."

There was nothing else for Elizabeth to do, but kneel down beside her, and hold her.

Young David Collins had been playing marbles on the great concrete patio of the Old House. He had been told more than once that now the Old House was the home of his cousin Barnabas, and that meant he shouldn't go over as often as he once did, because that was known as "bothering" him.

David knew that both Willie and Barnabas were gone for the day, so unless someone came from Collinwood and caught him here, it was not very likely that he would get in trouble. His father was at the plant, his aunt and governess were driving around somewhere, and Carolyn was out on her horse.

"Hello, David!" a young girl's voice from behind startled him into messing up his shot.

It was Sarah.

When David talked about his friend Sarah to grown-ups, they had a difficult time believing that she actually existed. Even though he was perfectly honest with them about the fact that she was the ghost of a little girl who lived on these grounds two hundred years ago, they simply chose to believe that she was just a figment of his imagination.

"Look what you made me do!" he cried.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Well, why do you have to sneak up on me like that?"

"Don't be angry. I wasn't sneaking. I have something to tell you, that's all."

"What?"

"A person you know has died, only you haven't been told, yet. Nobody who should know has been told. And a person I once knew, who is dead now, is seeking to live again."    

"What does that mean?"

"Just what I said. You must believe me, David, it's the truth."    

"Why tell me?"

Sarah shrugged. "Who should I tell?"

"I don't know. I don't know what you expect me to do about it, anyway."

"I think this might be the last time I will be able to visit with you, David."

David's expression of irritation immediately changed to one of concern. "What?"

"I will be going away, soon. Forever."

"Why, Sarah? Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

Sam Evans was sweeping up behind the bar inside *The Blue Whale* while his daughter, Maggie, was waiting on tables. It was the usual lunchtime crowd.

When it was time for Maggie's cigarette break, Sam ambled over to ask about Joe Haskell and Carolyn Stoddard.

"It's been a while since Carolyn and that Big Maine Yutz have dropped in," he mentioned.

"I know," said Maggie, between puffs.

Have either one of them spoken to you outside of here?"

"No. Not since that night at Collinwood. Carolyn's not been herself, lately, but that's understandable. As for the Yutz, I don't know what's up with him. Nobody I've talked to seems to know where he is. Probably out somewhere on his boat."

Sam nodded and continued his sweeping.

Maggie didn't believe a word of what she told her father. She could not ignore the feeling she was getting about the Yutz. Nothing normal ever happened around the Collins family, and Joe was very likely caught up in something to do with them. The moment she got a chance, she intended to use her special talents to find out more about what was going on.

A new customer came in and made his way to the bar. He sat down on a stool near where Maggie stood and ordered a mug of beer from her father. This was a stranger, a blonde man neither she or her father had ever met before. He brought with him a rather harried look, but a kind face.

Maggie was intrigued enough by him to try and strike up a conversation with him

"Julia!"

Julia turned around in one of the hallways of Collinsport Mercy Hospital. Although she was originally summoned here by her late colleague, Professor Michael Woodard, to investigate some pretty strange things, she had accepted a permanent position here for a twofold reason. One, she could remain in town and keep an eye on Barnabas, and two, she could earn her living while doing that. Unfortunately, she had been neglecting her "normal" duties for too long, which was probably what the white-haired gentleman now approaching her wanted to have a word with her about.

"Eric!" she greeted him, politely. "I'm afraid I never got a chance to express my gratitude to you for taking care of my workload in addition to your own, while I was preoccupied with the Collinses."

"True," responded Dr. Eric Lang. He stopped beside her, with a good-natured grin at her surprised reaction to his choice of word. Then, they both continued in the direction Julia had been heading.

Lang was a shade taller than Julia, clad in a white labcoat, with his glasses tucked in their case in the breast pocket, along with three differently colored pens. A stethoscope dangled from around his neck like a medal of honor. Julia imagined that Marcus Welby must've been a boyhood idol of his.

"Care to offer any explanations, Julia?"

"Eric, I'm grateful to you for your help, but I'm not required to report my itinerary to you."

"Wow, *that* sounded a bit touchy! You must admit that it doesn't look very ethical to drop all your other patients, while you ingratiate yourself with the most prestigious family in town."

Julia halted to face him in anger. "Is *that* what you think?"

"*I* don't know what to think, Julia. But that opinion has been bandied about here for some time. And you've not been very forthcoming with your reasons. How would you feel if I doubled your amount of patients, then told you to get lost for just wanting to know why?"

She raised a hand to her lowered forehead. "You're right. I'm sorry, Eric. I suppose I have been acting rather snippy. Maybe it's Michael's death. Maybe it's all the complications that have arisen since the Collinses elected me as this hospital's medical ambassador to Collinwood. You must've heard something of what has been going on around there?"     "You mean about this maniac who is convinced he must be a vampire? I must say, when I first heard about a case like that a decade ago in New York, I was intrigued. Now, Collinsport has one of its own!"

"So, you think this individual is merely a lunatic?"

"What else?" shrugged Eric.

"What else, indeed," Julia smiled, enigmatically, at she resumed walking.

"Oh, come now, Julia!" Eric followed her. "You aren't going to tell me you think it could actually be one of the *nosferatu*?"

"Do you think you could handle one, assuming it was?" asked Julia, impishly.

To her surprise, Eric actually looked as though he was considering the question. Perhaps she had said too much. She really didn't know Lang well enough to joke with him, especially not in this way. What if she had placed a notion in his mind that otherwise would never had popped in there by itself?

"You bring up a very interesting concept, Doctor," It was Eric's turn to give Julia an enigmatic smile, as he detoured down another hallway, toward his office.

Julia's mind flashed to what did in Michael Woodard. Curiosity.

"Curiosity can kill more than just cats, Eric," she mumbled to herself, as she went on to visit her next patient.

"And how are we doing, today, Mrs. MacNeil?" Julia cheerfully asked the woman lying in the bed of this particular room.

"Doctor Hoffman! You're back!" noted the patient.

"You didn't think I had forgotten about you, did you?"

"Oh, no. But you know, you left me in good hands with that Dr. Lang. Such a nice man!"

"I'm sure he is," Julia answered, pokerfaced, while taking the patient's pulse.

"What a charming bedside manner, he has -- oh, not that you don't, Doctor -- but he made me laugh so hard, we were both afraid I'd pop my stitches!"

"Well. Good thing his comedy didn't go that far."

"Laughter is the best medicine, they say. I believe it. The young lady who was sharing this room with me -- she was let out yesterday -- Dr. Lang was always teasing her everyday about her broken leg. You should have heard the two of them going back and forth! All in good fun, you understand? But it was a riot! We looked forward to his visits, every day, let me tell you!"

Julia was barely listening, as she checked the patient's prognosis chart. Coming along just nicely, according to Lang's scribblings. Marcus Welby lives. Julia had a feeling her entire day was going to go like this. And she was to be proven right.

Back at Collinwood, Victoria Winters resumed her responsibilities concerning David. She was determined that whatever troubles she was currently having, weren't any longer going to interfere with what she had been hired to do.

Inside the makeshift schoolroom, David fidgeted at his desk, while Victoria attempted to teach him math, via some problems she had written up on the chalkboard.

"All right, David," she sighed, lowering her pointer. "It's obvious your thoughts are elsewhere. Is there something on your mind that you want to tell me?"

"She said someone I know is dead."

That sounded ominous. In fact, it took her by surprise.

"Who said that?" Then, understanding dawned on Victoria. "You mean Sarah?"

"She said someone she once knew is seeking to live again. Do you think she meant like Daphne?"

Victoria put the pointer down on the desk, leaned over to David, and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Daphne didn't seek what happened to her, David. Sarah must have meant something else. What else did she tell you?"

David shook his head, his lips tightening. Gazing downward, he muttered, "She said she was going away. Forever."

"I see. Was there a good reason?"

"She's been acting funny, lately. Like scaring me from behind."

"So. Sarah's taught you what that feels like. Not very pleasant, is it?"

David looked up at her, as though seeing her for the first time. It was clear to Victoria that this was something David hadn't thought of.

"Do you miss her?"

David didn't reply. Instead, he slowly nodded his head.

"...So, I feel David might be ready for some companionship of children his own age," Victoria told Elizabeth and Roger in the privacy of the study, later on that evening.    

"We have tried that, as you well know," Roger maintained, while hovering near a portrait of a nineteenth century ancestor. "The result was a ruined schoolhouse."

"That was never proven to my satisfaction," stated a seated Elizabeth. "That fire could've started from someone's careless smoking, from all anybody really knows. Poor David may just have been a convenient scapegoat to blame it on."     "A number of witnesses say they saw him playing with matches just prior to it," insisted Roger, with a noticeable croak in his voice.  

"What happened then is unimportant now, Mr. Collins," said Victoria. "Right now, David is hurting for social interaction with other youngsters."

"What do you suggest? Buying him some playmates?" sneered Roger.

"I'm suggesting that there are plenty of unused rooms in Collinwood. Surely, we could take in a few boarders, who have children about David's age?"

"Open Collinwood to tourists and their brats? Oh, wonderful," Roger rolled his eyes.

"I think her idea has merit, Roger," said Elizabeth.

"You can't be serious!" protested Roger.  

"On the contrary, I am. It isn't fair to David to isolate him from other children the way we've been doing. If Victoria feels he's ready for friends, I say he should have them, even if it means allowing strangers to move in."

"Do you have anyone in particular in mind, Miss Winters?" asked Roger.

"No, I'm afraid not," she answered. "But Maggie Evans speaks to a lot of people, every day. I'd be very surprised if she didn't know *somebody* who could use an opportunity like this."

"I know *exactly* the guy you're looking for!" Maggie's eyes widened after Victoria explained the proposition to her inside *The Blue Whale* the following day. "He's only just arrived in town, and not only is he looking for a place to stay, but it would be a load off his mind if someone could watch over his kid sister when he's not home. And he's not hard to look at, either."  

Maggie gave Vicky a playful nudge with an elbow, causing Vicky to chuckle.

"So who is this hunk? What's his name? What does he do for a living?"

"His name is Chris. His little sister is Amy, and she is just about David's age, which should be perfect. Amy hasn't had too many friends, herself, because of always having to tag along with big brother from town to town. Their parents are dead, so Chris has to do it all...you know?"

Victoria frowned. "You make it sound like he can't hold down a job, anywhere. Mr. Collins'll go ballistic if I brought home another Willie Loomis."  

"He's not another Willie Loomis! And you just let me handle Roger when the time comes. Trust me, I'm an expert on vibes, remember? And Chris only gives off good ones. Except for..."

"Except for what?"

"Well, decent as he seems, he still is troubled by something, though I haven't yet been able to put my finger on what that is. Maybe you might, once you meet him and talk with him."

"Do you know where he's staying?"

"No. But I've got a strong premonition I'll be seeing him in here, again, sometime soon. When I do, I'll tell him where to find you."

Victoria studied Maggie for a moment, then decided her friend wasn't telling her something. Vicky never claimed to be psychic, but lately she found herself being able to tell when someone needed to talk.

"How have things been with *you*, Maggie?"

Maggie stared at her. "You can just tell, eh? You should try to sharpen those skills, Vicky. You may be surprised at what you can learn."

Maggie took a quick glance around. Satisfied that no one else was paying any attention to them, she began.

"I had a disturbing vision, Vicky. I think it connects with what Sarah was trying to tell David. I saw a man digging up an unmarked grave in the woods. That's it. But it was very clear and very vivid. The kicker is; a body was being taken out -- not put in. Unfortunately, I didn't get a look at any faces, but I've learned not to disregard these warnings. Oh, and speaking of missing bodies, where's Joe been, lately? Did he and Carolyn have a fight, or something?"

Victoria shook her head. "Not that I know of. They were still an item when they were both here last week."

Maggie contradicted her. "They weren't here last week. Pop and I haven't seen hide nor hair of either of them in weeks!"

"That's odd. I saw her come back to the house the following morning after being out all night. I could have sworn she told me she had been here with Joe."

"Odder still," added Maggie, "This isn't an all-night joint."

Eric Lang made himself comfortable behind his desk. As he straightened out a pile of paper on top of it, the paper suddenly flew out from his grasp in a sudden windstorm which engulfed the room!

When the paperwork all fluttered down onto the floor, Eric then saw the apparition which seemed to have been there all the while, with an angry expression on its face.

It was dressed in a man's garb of the eighteenth century. It stood with its arms folded, and staring directly at Eric, with malevolence.     "Doctor Eric Lang!" it spoke to him with sarcasm dripping from every word. "You have so many fooled into believing you are an angel of mercy. Ah, but you and I know much better, don't we?"

Eric, for his part, didn't seem quite fazed at all. "My, my, my, just look at the mess you made. Really, Mister Bradford, must you continue to regale me with your cheap theatrics? Someone will have to sort this all out, again. It's so inconvenient..."

"I know you found the body, Lang. It was right where I told you it would be. I know you unearthed it, and brought it home. You've had it there for a week, and you never contacted me once in the manner I taught you. I grow weary of your delays."  

Eric turned his palms up. "You've waited two hundred years. What's a few more weeks? Bradford, I am not stalling. Do you think that by the twentieth century, dead bodies are brought to life at whim? If so, I'm sorry to disappoint you. While the body of the unfortunate Mister Haskell is indeed a close ringer to you, and reasonably fresh, I'm afraid I've had to discard certain parts of the cadaver as useless. Even with my advanced techniques, I can only do so much with dead flesh. One must strip away what cannot be resuscitated. One must stop further decay. One must restart key living systems..."

"Your science is alien to me, Lang," interrupted the spirit of Peter Bradford. "Don't waste your breath with, what are to me, meaningless phrases. We are indeed strange bedfellows, you and I. In life, I would never have associated with the likes of you. But we, unfortunately, need one another. For you see, sir, I understand something I believe you do not. Souls, Doctor Lang. The monstrosity you are building in your basement may one day breathe. You may nourish it, and you may even call it alive. But without a soul, it will simply be an abomination!"

"I concede that as a possibility," yielded Eric. "I am, after all, only a pioneer in this field. Until I met you, frankly, I questioned the existence of souls. Live and learn, I say. But do not presume to preach to me about how you are far more virtuous than I. You intend to live again -- through another man's body. How do you suppose the soul of young Joe Haskell feels about that, hmm?"

"Haskell has passed on to that plane from whence no one returns. A plane whose doors I have avoided in order to remain on the earth in the form you now see before you. Haskell no longer has any need for a physical form. However, in order to accomplish what I must, I do need a more substantial presence, which only you seem able to provide me."

"Have patience, Bradford. All goods thing come to those who wait," grinned Eric.