DARK SHADOWS: SEASON 2 Episode 14

*"My name is Victoria Winters. A sinister man returns to familiar grounds this night -- the grounds of the great house of Collinwood. He bears with him a decades-old secret which can destroy the family, unless Elizabeth Stoddard takes steps to see that this dangerous secret stays buried."*

"Tell me more, Victoria," encouraged Julia, as she stood before a mesmerized Victoria, who was seated with a glazed stare on a couch in Julia's office in the hospital.

"The children were found in the woods," said Victoria, unblinking, in a ghostly voice. "They were both terribly sick with fever. Sarah died from it before I realized that these people didn't know how to handle a fever! If it wasn't for Peter believing in me, Daniel would have died, too. And with him, the Collins family of the 1990's."

*So,* thought Julia, *whether they know it or not, accept it or not, the Collinses owe their very existence to this young woman. I wonder how much differently they would regard her if they were made aware of this?*

"Peter and I discovered that was Angelique's plan all along."

"Ah, Angelique, again," noted Julia. The doctor's own experience with being possessed by the spirit of the witch had left her with a new respect for Barnabas' tormentor. Angelique used Julia to murder Joe Haskell. It was assumed that the witch's spirit was banished from Maggie Evans when she failed to sabotage Victoria's return from 1790. Perhaps, an unwarranted assumption. They may not have seen the last of Angelique, especially if she took exception to Julia's tampering with Barnabas' curse. How could Julia fight a witch so powerful as to defy Death itself?

"I think that's enough for today," concluded Julia. "When I count to three, you will awaken, as usual, but with one minor difference. You will have a feeling of well-being, as though we made big strides in restoring your memory. I want you to have no doubts that we are making progress, is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. One...two...three!"

Victoria blinked a few times, then smiled at Julia.

"Well! Did I say much, this time?"

"I think it's safe to tell you there's been a breakthrough, today," Julia told her, without batting an eye. "You described a person you met in the past with absolute clarity. A servant by the name of Angelique."

Victoria brightened. "Yes! Yes, I remember her! A blonde woman! Josette's handmaiden! Julia, this is wonderful! I mean, of course I trust you completely, but I had been wondering lately if these hypnosis sessions were helping anything. Now, for the first time, I actually feel as if we're getting somewhere!"

"I'm glad. We'll resume again, next time, and make even more progress, I'm certain."

Willie Loomis had his ear against the office door, but all he could make out was muffled sounds, not anything intelligible. When Julia opened the door to let Victoria out, she knew very well that the door hit his head, but she made no mention of this in front of Victoria. She simply gave him a look that promised him she would confront him about it, later.

"Good news, Willie!" said Victoria. "It's starting to come back to me. I actually remembered someone I met in the past!"

Willie bobbed his head up and down with his lopsided grin. "That's great! That's real good news, Miss Winters. Uh, who was it that you remembered?"

"Angelique!" she gleefully told him. "I remembered Angelique!"

She breezed past him, on her way back to his truck.

"Ange-...oh, geez..," Willie's voice dropped half an octave, instantly. He wasn't sure whether this was progress or not. He made lame motions in Victoria's direction for Julia's benefit that told her he had to go to drive Victoria back. Julia continued to direct a distastful stare at him.

"I will speak with you later, Willie," she promised him through her teeth, before he was out of earshot.

"It never fails," grumbled Mrs. Johnson to herself, as she hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron, while going to answer the front door. "As soon as I stick my hands into the soapy water, there's a knock at the door."

As soon as she opened it, she saw a man standing there in a plaid cap. He was of medium height and build, and something about him struck her with the feeling that she had seen this man somewhere, before. Yet, there was no name coming to the tip of her tongue.

He removed his cap, regarding her with a toothy reptilian smile.

"Mrs. Johnson! As Oy live and breathe! How long 'as it been? Fifteen, twenty years, eh?"

"Do I know you, sir?"

"Saints preserve us! Do y'mean to tell me y'don't recognoize me, now!"

It dawned on Mrs. Johnson with a gasp.

"Jason McGuire, you no-account drifter! I thought we were well rid of you a long time ago! What excuse brings your sorry self back to this doorstep?" Mrs. Johnson's fists went to her hips.

Jason was openly chuckling, now. "Ah, bless you, dear Mrs. Johnson! Y'do remember me! Oy've returned to pay moy respects to the family, if that is foin with you."

"It most certainly is not. But it's not my place to decide. Come in. I'm sure Mr. Collins will want the pleasure of throwing you out, bodily, himself."

"Aye, and it'll be loik old toimz, to be sure!" grinned Jason, stepping past her, while she resealed the door.

"Wait here," she instructed him, before leaving to summon one of the Collinses. "Try not to steal anything, if you can possibly help it."

Jason clutched at his heart, as if to say, "You wound me, madam." The gesture looked most insincere, and he, no doubt, knew it.

Miss Winters still hadn't come home from her appointment with Doctor Hoffman. That meant that, somehow, David had to leave his room, cross the hallway, go down the stairs, and get to the refrigerator and return with a snack -- without her protection.

He opened his door, just a crack. Nobody was out in the hall.

He opened it a little wider, enough to poke his head out to look left and right. The coast was clear.

He crept out on tiptoes, noiselessly closing his door behind himself, and hurried over to the head of the staircase. That was when he nearly fell over Amy Jennings, who was sitting on one of the steps, playing with a Cabbage Patch doll.

David gasped upon seeing her, but was frozen in place, apparently undecided between running away or ignoring her.

"It's all right, David," she mentioned, while tending to her doll. "We don't have to be friends if you don't want to. I know I scare you."

Well. That was a horse of a different color. It was one thing to fear what he couldn't understand, it was quite another to admit to a girl that she baffled the daylights out of him.

"You don't scare me," insisted David, folding his arms.

"Then why did you avoid me yesterday, when my brother and I moved in?"

"You remind me of somebody else, that's all."

"You mean `Sarah the Ghost'?" Amy wiggled her fingers in the air. "I heard about your imaginary friend."

"She's *real*! And she looks like you."

"Yeah, right."

David sat down beside her. "This house is filled with ghosts. Horrible, scary ones. Ghosts that'll scare you to *death*."

"Prove it."

David stood up. "All right. Follow me."

"Okay," Amy rose to her feet. "Where are we going?"

"The West Wing," explained David, eerily. "There are so many ghosts in there, we're bound to run into one. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Elizabeth had no idea she had just missed the children getting acquainted at the top of the stairs, when she, herself, came to that very spot, only moments later. No doubt, it would have warmed her heart to see them getting along. Instead, the surprise awaiting her on the ground floor would put icewater into her veins.

"Jason!" cried Elizabeth, as she came down the stairs, looking as though she had just seen a ghost, herself.

Jason kept silent, beaming a cheery expression at her, which hid the verbal sledgehammer with which he was intending to clobber her.

"Jason, why have you returned?" Elizabeth demanded, when she arrived beside him.

"Ah, Liz! Still as luvely as the day Oy first set me oiz upon ye!"

"Never mind the flattery! I asked you a question!"

"An' that foyery temper, too! Y'must have *some* Oirish in ye! If Paul hadn't stolen ye away from me, Oy would've married ye m'self!"

"And this is still Jason McGuire, the same silver-tongued rogue who still gets to the point in his own sweet time," countered Elizabeth through narrowed eyes.

Jason made a slight bow to her. "Guilty, as charged. But then, we both know a thing or two about *guilt*, eh?"

"McGuire!" roared Roger Collins, still in his riding clothes, as Mrs. Johnson had found him. He slapped his crop against his right boot as he marched into the room, his eyes fixed on Jason.

"Roger..." began Jason, cheerfully.

"Don't you `Roger' me, you scum!" Roger took threatening strides toward him as he spoke. "You may have the police in this town fooled, but not me! How dare you set foot in this house, again?"

Elizabeth interposed herself between her brother and the newcomer, before any physical altercation could begin. "He obviously feels he has a good reason, Roger. Let us hear him out, first."

Roger was game. "All right. Start talking."

"Now, is this any way to be treatin' an old friend, whom ye've not seen in nearly a quarter of a loiftoime? What could Oy have done lately to earn your wrath?"

"It's not what you've done lately, McGuire! It's what you did seventeen-odd years ago!" Roger informed him.

"Y'still blame me for Paul Stoddard's disappearance," Jason shook his head, as though in pity. "How can Oy convince ye that Oi'm a good Christian man, an' would do nothin' t'harm anyone?"

"You can't," sneered Roger.

"More's the pity. Oy *am* an innocent man, Roger."

"*Innocent?* Hah! Shall we go ask Sheriff Patterson just how innocent you are?" Roger thrust an arm in the direction of the front door.

"Oy admit Oy've never been a saint, but Oy've troyed to mend me ways since. A lot of folk I know will tell ye ol' Jason is a good sort, Oy'm proud t'say."

Roger sighed. "Okay. Spill it. Why are you here?"

Jason's reptillian grin returned. "Woy, just t'see some old, dear friends Oy've not seen in a long whoil. And to talk over certain old toimz with Liz. Oy'm sure what Oy have t'say will interest her very much."

Roger turned to Elizabeth for her confirmation.

Elizabeth nodded. "Leave us, Roger. I'll determine whether Jason is here to waste my time or not."

"Are you sure we're *allowed* here, David?" asked Amy, clutching her doll tightly in the dim hallway of the West Wing.

There was no electricty here, so David had gotten a flashlight to illuminate the way in this forbidden part of the manor.

"Of *course* we're not allowed here!" he told her sharply. "Grown-ups hate ghosts more than kids do."

"Well, maybe we should go back..."

David put the light to his chin, for her benefit. "Hah! You're scared already, and you haven't even *seen* a ghost, yet!"

"I'm not scared! I don't believe in ghosts. It's just that your father might get mad at us, if he catches us here!"

"My father always gets mad. He hasn't killed anyone yet. Not like some of the ghosts who haunt these rooms."

"Have you been here, before?"

"Once. That was when my Aunt Elizabeth made me promise not to go in any of the rooms, here. She thinks I might get hurt, or break something valuable. Some of the doors are locked, but I've never tried them all."

"Shhh!" said Amy. "Do you hear something?"

David listened. It was difficult to hear at first, but the volume gradually increased into audibility.

He could make out violins playing. And a piano -- no, a harpsichord! He remembered hearing one played when he lived in England. But the melody was new to him. It was a tune he had never heard anywhere, before.

"It's music," shrugged David.

"Where is it coming from?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" David phrased the question with spooky intonation.

The melody continued to get louder. David and Amy moved down the hall to a particular door, which seemed to be the source of the sound.

"It's coming from in there," pointed Amy.

David reached for the doorknob, but before his hand could grasp it, the children saw it twist by itself. The door slowly began to creak open.

"Run!" cried David, dropping the flashlight.

The children scrambled in terror, as the music filled the hall. As quickly as the door to the unlit room opened, it shut with a slam. The music ceased just as abruptly.

They had to blunder through the darkness in fear, until they were both ensnared -- screaming -- by a man's arms.

"We're going to need to have a little talk, you and I," Roger told them.

Victoria Winters was floating on air, when she came in the door of Collinwood. A breakthrough at last! It was like the first ray of sun after the worst of the storm.

It sounded as though Elizabeth was entertaining someone in the drawing room, so she tiptoed up the stairs. Her good news could wait until breakfast time. At the top, she met Roger, who had a hand on David's head, and another on Amy's.

"Miss Winters," he greeted her. "You can take over these charges, now. I've just had to explain to them why they should stay out of closed-off wings. It would be nice if you could impress this on them, as well?"

"Of course, Mr. Collins. Do you know who that is with Elizabeth, downstairs?"

"Unfortunately, yes. That is one Jason McGuire, an old cohort of her husband's. Willie Loomis is a saint by comparison."

"Uh, Barnabas is out," Willie explained to Julia, who turned up at the door of the Old House later that evening, as stern-faced as she was earlier.

"Even better," she pushed inside past him with a rolled up newspaper. "Maybe without his interference, I'll be able to get to the bottom of *what the hell you thought you were doing outside of my office!*"

"I, uh, I don't understand what ya mean, Doc! I was just waitin' for you to get done with Miss Winters, so's I could drive her home!"

"You were doing more than that, Willie. You were eavesdropping. Was that your idea...or his?"

For a moment Willie behaved tongue-tied. Not at the accusation, but because he knew that whatever he said next would determine whether or not Barnabas would give him another good thrashing with his cane.

Julia's features mellowed. "I see. Well, I suppose that answers that question. I don't like what he's doing to you, Willie. You deserve better than to live in fear of his abuse. Here, I want you to take this. And for heaven's sake, don't let him know you have this, unless you absolutely need to use it."

She withdrew something from her coat, and placed it into one of his hands. It was a small silver cross on a gold chain.

"Aw, geez, Doc! I...I couldn't..." Willie shook his head.

"Shut up and put it on. Do you think I'm not wearing one these days? I'll be in the drawing room, when he returns."

Willie nodded, gratitude in his eyes. He slipped the chain around his neck, tucking it under his shirt.

"You're not here to talk over old times, Jason," stated Elizabeth. "What is it you really want? I thought I paid you off handsomely enough for you to stay away, forever!"

"Ye were wrong on that count, Liz. Forever is a long toime, longer than the money y'gave me lasted. I foynd m'self broke and homeless once marr. Oy'm farced t'come to ye with me hat in me hands, so to speak," grinned Jason, with his hat in his hands.

"Money! I knew it! Get out of my house!"

"Now, let's not be hasty, moy dear. I'll be happy to leave, *after* Oy tell everyone what *really* happened to the mister."

"This is blackmail, Jason."

"Aye, so it is. Come now, be reasonable. All Oy ask is a roof over me head and enough cash to get back on me feet. Oy ask so little, when you have so much. More than you'll ever need, really..."

"Earned by my family, for my family -- not for a leech such as yourself!"

"Even a leech has a royt to live on God's green earth, Liz."

Elizabeth regarded him for a few moments longer, then came to her decision. "All right. You'll stay as my guest for as long as it takes you to find permanent accomodations elsewhere, at which time I will give you the same sum I gave you before. In return, I'll expect you to stay away for another fifteen years, at *least*. Is it agreed?"

Jason beamed. "A more fair deal, Oy'll not find anywhere else. 'Tis agreed!"

He offered her his hand, but she ignored it, rising to her feet, instead.

"I'll ask Mrs. Johnson to prepare a room for you."

"Willie told me I would find you here," said Barnabas, stepping into the drawing room of the Old House. "He has gone back to Collinwood to visit his aunt, so I will endeavor to be a good host on my own."

Julia rose from the warmth beside the fire, and moved to stand before him.

"I've brought something for you to see," she handed him the rolled up newspaper she had brought with her.

It was today's copy of the *Collinsport Gazette*. Barnabas glanced over the headline, which read ANOTHER VICTIM OF GHOUL, before handing it back to her.

"Your point?"

"Barnabas, it doesn't need to be this way."

A sneer played upon his lips. "Ah. You wish to resume your experimentation upon me. I must decline your most generous offer this time."

"You need not fear a repeat of what happened before. I give you my word.."

He turned on her with a hiss. "Which means *nothing* to me, now! I trust you can appreciate why."

"Barnabas --"

"Is that all you came here to discuss?"

Julia could see he was in no mood to talk. Her gaze went down. "Yes."

"Then I bid you good evening, Doctor."

A mixture of resignation and frustration crossed her features, as she sighed, and tossed the newspaper to the nearest chair. "I will see myself out, " she told him tersely.

He said nothing as she walked past him toward the front door. He remained expressionless as he heard it open and close.

His gaze returned to the headline which glared at him from where she threw it. He picked it up.

When he noticed his hand was trembling as he held it, he angrily flung it into the fireplace.

Willie had entered Collinwood from one of the rear entrances. He was *persona non-grata* these days, so it just would not be proper for him to come in through the front. But he never felt welcome here even before his falling out with Roger, so that didn’t bother him. And he had every right to visit his aunt when he felt like it. And he felt like it right now.

"Auntie?" he called, sniffing around the pantry. Mrs. Johnson didn’t seem to be around. But the aroma of her freshly baked nut loaf drew him like a rabbit to a carrot.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw a man standing beside the counter, helping himself to a slice of it. The man recognized him as well.

"Mister Loomis," smiled Jason. "How are ye, lad? Long toime, no see, eh?"

Willie stood still, with his mouth hanging open.

"Come, come, Willie-boy! Surely, the cat hasn’t made off with yer tongue? Haven’t ye got any wards at all for yer ol’ pal Jason?"

"I’m-I’m *not* your pal!" stammered Willie, turning to go back the way he came.

But Jason smoothly stepped into his way.

"That distresses me t’hear that, Willie," said Jason through his teeth. "Haven’t we helped each other out in the past enough toimes? I still look upon ye as I would upon me own dear little brother, and this be the thanks I get? That won’t do, no, that won’t do at all!"

"What do you want?"

"Have I asked ye for anything, Willie?"

Willie slowly shook his head, but he knew this man better than that.

"And I have no intention of askin’ ye for anything. Yet. But it would be a shame if you were to suddenly disappear for some reason before we get a chance to get reacquianted, don’t ye think?" Jason smiled an oily grin, before taking another bite of nut loaf.

Barnabas didn’t feel the urge to go out tonight. He did not feel like seeing another soul, and, yet, he had the feeling he was not alone. Then he noticed the little girl, dressed in white, standing in the middle of the room.

"Sarah!" he cried.

"You must let her help you, Barnabas. Please tell me you will."

Barnabas was aghast. Did she mean Julia?

"I’m very tired, big brother," she continued. "But I can’t go to my rest until you tell me you will let her help you."

The lump in Barnabas’ throat eased up enough to let him speak. "How can I trust that woman? How can I bear to let you leave me, again?"

"Then you can trust me. You do trust me, don’t you?"

"You know I do."

"Then let me hear you say you will let her help you."

Tears clouded his vision. Of course he wanted to be helped. Of course Julia was his straw to grasp. But he knew telling Sarah that he would permit it would mean he would never see his sweet little sister again. But that was selfish. He could not force her spirit to wander the earth when she wanted to be at rest.

"Yes, Sarah, I will..." he began to cry.

"Don’t cry, Barnabas," said Sarah, as she faded away for the final time. "We will all be together again one day. You’ll see."

Then, he was alone once more. But he continued to cry.