The Wager - chapter 3

He had known the risk and proceeded anyway. Now, as the craving for blood tied knots in his gut, as he inhaled her scent, he bit down on the inside of his lower lip, dug his nails into his palms. He had to block it out, block it all out, long enough.

He was steadier, as they stepped up to Giles' Stokes door, knocked, waited, waited, knocked again.

She answered the door, finally, his housekeeper, a stout little woman with jet black hair pulled back tight in a bun and a distinctly suspicious air. "Who are you? Do you know what time it is? What are you doing here?" The questions came staccato.

Barnabas assumed his most courtly pose: "My name is Barnabas Collins. Permit me to introduce my wife, Julia. We apologize for the lateness of the hour; but we are on our way north, saw the name of the town, and remembered my father mentioning to me that our family came from this place, that if I ever chanced this way, I should seek out the Stokes

family. Might we be permitted to visit briefly with Mr. Stokes? We've come a long way, and I doubt we will pass this way again."

The nurse squared her stance, as if to block the door. Julia considered simply walking by her, but was spared the anticipated unpleasantness. "Martha, who is it?" The speaker stepped from the parlor into view. Julia suppressed a gasp. It was her, the woman who had been in the mausoleum. Yes, of course, if she were Giles' fiancé.

"Says he's a Collins, Miss, come to visit Mr. Giles."

"Show Mr. Collins in, then." She swept out to greet their guest, a picture of nervous energy, all billowing fabric and flowing honey hair dwarfing her petite frame. "Good evening. Excuse Martha. We're unaccustomed to visitors, of late. Come in, please. Oh!" As she stopped long enough to look at her guests, one hand flew to her mouth: "It's uncanny." Barnabas tilted his head, his aspect one of puzzlement. "It's just, well, you look so much like the portrait of Barnabas Collins, at Collinwood, only...younger, I expect. Yes. That's it. Do come in."

As the followed her back toward the parlor, she rattled on: "You must forgive me. I'm May, May Collins. Giles and I are to be married. Or we were to be married. Martha, bring some brandy please, and some biscuits for our guests. I'll have some, too. But that was all before, well, you'll see."

Giles Stokes sat, grim-faced, in a straight-backed wood chair, his wrists tied loosely to the arms of the chair, his legs stretched out on an ottoman and covered in a dark gray blanket. May stopped behind his chair, rested her hands on his shoulders: "This is Barnabas Collins, Giles.

And..."

"Julia Collins," Julia interjected. "What happened?"

Giles' only response was a harsh laugh.

"It happened earlier this week," May fixed Giles' coat collar: "I was here, in the parlor. Martha was in the kitchen. This...person...she came to the door, like you did, tonight. She was so odd...a blue-eyed hag. I heard her, and came out to see who it was. She saw me and laughed. it was horrible, more a cackle than a laugh."

May couldn't quite shake the image still. And she could recount, and did, what had happened that night, three days before. She spoke quickly, ignoring Martha as the woman came in and set down a tray with brandy in snifters and a plate with a variety of cookies. May rattled on, affording Julia and Barnabas no opportunity to comment or question. The hag had told them, as she stood just outside on the porch, told them that they had a role to play, in a game. It would be an interesting game. Would you help me win a bet, the hag had asked Giles. What bet? Giles had asked.

Who are you? Giles had asked. The hag had been impatient, snapped that she had no time for discussion, that there were other games to be played after this, and for fine stakes. Then, she had waved her hands in the air, in some sort of pattern, and Giles had fallen over, paralyzed. She ran to Giles, and when she looked up, the hag was gone. Out of breath, May concluded: "The doctor finds nothing wrong. Nothing is wrong, but Giles can't move. We're desperate, of course. I even went to the minister,  Rev.Trask, although he hates Giles. All he did was stare at the ceiling and shout out that it was the Lord speaking, Divine retribution for Giles' blasphemy. He's threatened to take steps against anyone who tries to help Giles, says: that would be against the Lord's will, Who struck him down." May went over to Barnabas, took his hands in hers, and implored: "Can you help us? Please. If you don't, I don't know what Giles will do."

What Giles will do: Julia noted the locution. It was evident what May would do, if Giles remained as he was, and who she would do it with. And, outside, just above the gray scudding clouds, four figures observed the unfolding events. It was proceeding as planned, all of it.

"I was convincing as a hag."

"Vera, you are boasting again, and so soon." Alma gibed.

"And why not?" rejoined Lily: "His hunger grows. May is restless."

"And Thaddeus Trask is unrelenting," Bethea groomed herself as she presided over the bickering trio. "Well, we shall see, soon enough, won't we?" She licked at the back of one paw: "By tomorrow night, the wager will be won, or lost, and payment made. Let no one interfere." So saying, she smiled at her companions, as they each faded away, and were no longer there.

  Chapter 4