Chapter Eight
by Evelyn

Julia opened her eyes and shook her head groggily, trying to focus on her surroundings.  The room seemed to vibrate to the strains of the Charleston and the roar of laughter penetrating the walls.  The party was still in full swing, so much for hoping that this was all a terrible dream.

"Hello, Dr. Hoffman.  Welcome to the roaring twenties."

Julia turned toward the speaker, her eyes coming to rest on Rosa Chilblain, hovering at the bedside.  Nicholas Blair may have been considered a distinguished looking man, but he was certainly an ugly woman.  Especially dressed in classic 1920's beaded flapper apparel.  Garish was an understatement.  She decided not to comment on his appearance, there wasn't time for that now.

"Why have you brought me here?  Where is Angelique?  What kind of drug did you give me?"  Julia demanded, glaring at Rosa and trying not to look as terrified as she felt.

"My, my, is that any way to greet your hostess?  I should be offended by your rudeness and refuse to answer your questions, but I can't wait to see the expression on your face when I tell you."  Man or woman, the evil smirk was the same, thought Julia.  "First let me assure you that no drugs were used to subdue you.  Angelique informed me that you never did react very well to time travel, unlike that annoying companion of yours, Barnabas Collins.  Angelique...er...Valerie is off dealing with him as we speak.  It was she who wanted you here, although your joining me in this time suited my purposes as well." 

At the mention of Barnabas, Valerie's words returned, disjointed.  Julia strained to remember.  Valerie had been telling her something about Barnabas, just as she was losing consciousness.  Something about Barnabas...and Patrick.  "Patrick?"  Julia spoke Jamison's name aloud.  "What has he to do with this?"

"Ah, Patrick Jamison.  I have been cultivating him for quite some time now.  I first noticed his psychic abilities when he was just a youth.  He lived across the hall and since his mother neglected him, Valerie and I would let him spend time at our apartment.  Eventually his mother moved to England and was easily persuaded to allow him to live with us.  He has developed into quite a charming and handsome man, wouldn't you agree?"

Julia was confused, she quickly did the math.  "But Patrick can't be...that would make him..."

"My dear, you of all people should know that appearances can be deceiving.  One doesn't always look one's age.  Your time amongst the Collins clan has certainly taught you that."

"Barnabas."  Julia shuddered at the thought of him in danger.  "What is Angelique planning to do?"

Rosa sighed and rolled her eyes.  "What does she always do?  She is going to try and get that dreary man to spend eternity with her.  For the life of me I can't see what all the fuss is about.  Why do you two find him so irresistible?  Anyway, I have plans of my own for our dear Angelique...well, all these questions are becoming so tedious.  Why don't I just show you?"

Rosa Chilblain assisted Julia to her feet and gestured toward the gilded mirror over the chaise.  As Julia moved closer she saw the mirror cloud, then an image came into focus.  It was her...their apartment, in the year,1975.  She saw Barnabas standing in the foyer, donning his coat, he was preparing to depart...

Barnabas opened the door to find her standing before him and a chill as cold as any tomb crept up his spine.  Her presence before him meant that all his efforts to protect Julia had been in vain.  The sudden realization caused him to pale as he felt all the strength drain from his very being.  She brushed by him and into the apartment as if she lived there.  Well, in a way she did.  Her hair was as blonde and her blue eyes as luminous as he remembered.

"Barnabas, you look positively ill.  Is that any way to greet your dear departed wife?  After all, I am your only love."  The sound of her smug laughter was as irritating to Barnabas as fingernails drawn across a chalkboard.

"How long have you known.?"  Barnabas turned to face her, his posture belying an air of resignation.

"You never fooled me for a second, my love."  Angelique made no attempt to hide the scorn in her voice.  "I knew it was she you loved.  Your precious Julia.  The way you followed her around everywhere, like a lost child.  The way you looked at her when we rescued you from that fool Trask in 1840.  It was if I didn't even exist.  You tried to hide it from me, but I knew you felt more than friendship for her.  She believed you though.  She believed that you loved me in the end.  I find that amusing."  She began to laugh once more causing the bile to rise in Barnabas' throat. 

"Where is she, Angelique?  What have you and Blair done with her?"  He snarled, unmasking his hatred at last.

"She is safe, for now.  Nicholas...Rosa...is taking good care of her.  Julia is safe in the past, the 1920s to be more precise.  There she will remain, unharmed, if you do as you are told dear husband."  Angelique moved closer, placing her delicate but deadly hands on his chest, she began to seductively caress his lapel as Barnabas waited for her ultimatum.  "You will live with me here in this time, as my husband.  You will not try to rescue Julia. Without her interference, you will soon grow to love me again.  In order to ensure your cooperation, you will destroy the only means by which Julia can return to this time.  You will shatter the conduit, the mirror."

Barnabas felt his heart stop.  Surely he couldn't leave Julia trapped in the past.  Was this the only way to save her?  "How do I know that you are telling me the truth?  You may harm her anyway.  She may already be dead."

"You do not believe me?  See for yourself."   Angelique took his hand and led him to the mirror through which Julia disappeared.  Again he saw her image, faint but discernable, and heard music playing in the background.  She seemed to be speaking, but her words were inaudible.  He longed to hear her voice, to communicate with her.  "She exists in the past.  She is well, but if you betray me again, she will die."  Angelique sashayed to the fireplace and grasped the poker from its stand.   Handing it to Barnabas she continued.  "Shatter the mirror and pledge your devotion to me.  It is the only way."

Barnabas hesitated as he struggled to think.  What were his options?  If he refused the witch would surely destroy Julia.  She and Blair had the power to abduct Julia, they must have the power to kill her.  "Do it now, Barnabas!"  Angelique raged, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement.

Barnabas raised the poker and started his swing.  As the iron rod arced toward the mirror he suddenly felt it stop dead, as if he had struck an unseen object.  A jolt of electricity surged through metal and crackled into his hands causing a burst of pain that forced him to release his grip.  The poker fell to the floor with a resounding clang and the ghostly figure of Ben suddenly loomed between Barnabas and the mirror.

"Don't do it, Mister Barnabas."  Ben's spirit warned.  "It's a trick the witch is playin'."

"Ben!"  Barnabas and Angelique exclaimed simultaneously as the ghost continued to speak.  "That woman in the mirror...she wants to come to you, she wants to warn you, but she can't.  The witch won't let her.  If you break the mirror when the image of that woman appears, then you break her too.  You'll kill her, Mister Barnabas.  It's what the witch wants."

"That isn't true!"  Angelique screamed at Ben.  "He's lying because he hates me.  Ben has always hated me.  Ben Stokes, I command you to return to your grave at once!"  Then turning to face Barnabas she snarled, "Break the mirror, Barnabas!  Break it now or I swear, I WILL kill her!"

As Barnabas' attention alternated between the ghostly form of Ben and the enraged Angelique, he failed to detect the presence of another entering the room behind him.  "Well, well, Valerie.  I see that you and Mr. Collins are on a first name basis.  Should I be jealous?"

"Patrick!"  Angelique whirled to face the new arrival, vainly attempting to disguise her fury and muster a coy smile.  "I thought I told you to wait for me.  I have some unfinished business to attend to here.  Now please return to your apartment and I'll be along shortly."

"No, Valerie.  I'm not going anywhere just yet.  You see I've just had a visit from Rosa.  She explained everything to me."  Barnabas nervously looked from Patrick to Angelique, studying their reactions to each other.  Obviously the two were old friends, certainly more than friends, and Angelique suddenly seemed...frightened of him. "Rosa told me the truth about herself, and you.  She told me of enormous power, wealth, and unending existence.  She told me that the time would soon come for me to fulfill my destiny."  Jamison stepped further into the room, and closer to Angelique.  Beads of perspiration adorned his feverish forehead and his eyes shown with a euphoric intensity that reminded Barnabas of the Reverend Trask performing an exorcism.  As Angelique and Barnabas stared in stunned silence, Jamison reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed a small decorative glass vial.  It was the kind of vessel that might hold expensive perfume, but Barnabas knew from the menacing way in which Jamison brandished it, that its contents were far more dangerous.  "Rosa has instructed me as to what I must do.  The time to fulfill my destiny is at hand!"  Jamison shouted, hurling the vial at Angelique's feet.  As the glass shattered, an explosion rocked the apartment and Barnabas felt himself propelled backward.  There was a sharp pain as his head struck something solid, then the blackness engulfed him. 

Barnabas awoke to find the apartment in flames.  Thick, acrid smoke burned his nose, lungs and eyes.  He shouted for Ben, but no longer sensed his ghostly presence.  Gasping for breath, Barnabas struggled to his knees.  Somewhere he heard the sound of Angelique screaming as the flames engulfed her, but he couldn't see her through the fiery haze, even if he had wanted to find her.  His only thought was of Julia and the mirror.  He must protect the mirror until he could find a way to return Julia to the present time.  He crawled to stay beneath the choking smoke in the direction of the dining room, the heat generated by the flaming furniture and draperies nearly unbearable.  Barnabas knew if he didn't escape soon, he too would be incinerated.  He bumped into, rather than saw the wall, and knew that the mirror must be just above him.  Standing, he grasped the edges of the frame, only to jerk his hands back in pain as the heated metal seared his flesh.  Soot had already started to blacken the shiny reflective glass, but the presence of a figure in the corner was unmistakable.  It was Jamison, laughing hysterically and growing smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the mirror!

Barnabas reached for the mirror once again, determined to ignore his burned hands, when he was grabbed roughly from behind.  "Over here, Jenkins! I've got a live one!"  shouted the burly fireman as he wrapped his thick arms around Barnabas and pulled him toward the door.  "We've got to get you outta here now!"  Coughing and sputtering from the smoke, Barnabas tried to protest when a second set of hands grabbed hold and thrust him forward against his will.  Struggling frantically, Barnabas choked out, "No!  The mirror, I must get the mirror!"

"Mister, you're leavin this place now, and I ain't in the mood for no arguin'!  Whatever valuables you got in here ain't worth your life!"  Another shove and Barnabas was at the entrance, when he heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass behind them.  Sickened, he shouted "Julia!" and resumed his struggles with renewed vigor, to no avail as more firemen joined the two that restrained him and manhandled him down the stairs and out onto the street.  There he stood in stunned silence, gazing up at the window of what had been Julia's apartment, smoke billowing out into the chilly night air.  What was he to do now?  The mirror was most certainly destroyed, and with it all hope of finding Julia.

After several minutes had passed, Barnabas looked around him and for the first time noticed the dozens of men, women, and children that milled around aimlessly, staring up at the smoldering building that was once their home.  The building that his family owned.  He should be doing something for them, he thought absently, but he was unable to assist them.  How could he go on, how could he help others, when he couldn't even help Julia?  How could he go on, without her?  Not knowing if she were alive or dead.  Even though they had been separated for these past four years, he still envisioned her as part of his life.  He hadn't imagined a life without her in it.  He didn't want to.  A group of the displaced, wrapped in blankets and huddled together for warmth, began to sing Christmas carols, softly at first, then more loudly as others took up the refrain. "Silent night, Holy night..."   Barnabas was reminded that it was the Christmas season, a time for hope, and a time for miracles.  He felt something cold brush against his cheek and eyelashes.  He looked up and saw that it had begun to snow.  Just then Julia's words came back to him.  What was the saying?  When one door closes...somewhere a window opens?  Barnabas closed his eyes and pictured Julia.  There must be an open window somewhere.  There had to be.

Part Nine