The Wager - chapter 4

He had known the risk, as had she. She hadn't bothered to fight him, had simply determined to come, to be by his side when she could, to help. And he needed her help. As they left Stokes' home, she could see how gray his face was, how his hands trembled, though he clasped them firmly together in front of him.

The streets were empty now, Quaker midnight. They walked together, but apart. He would leave her soon, to feed, he would have to. She could offer herself, again, but why do so when his rejection was certain. She heard a dog howl in the distance, saw him stiffen at the sound. Should she propose it, anyway?

The decision was not made. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a high pitched giggle, coming from nowhere. It continued, coming now from somewhere in the bare branches of a maple, now from its trunk. He stepped in front of her, protective, as they looked about for the source of the giggling.

It was then they saw her, May's blue-eyed hag, shrouded in a dark gray cape. She was standing, in front of the maple, and then, she wasn't. Barnabas took Julia's arm, planted himself firmly: "Where are you? Who are you? What do you want of us?" He called out, not loud, but clear, demanding.

Vera shed her hag-like visage, kept the cape, and stood there, some ten feet away from them. She smiled at them. Then, she floated, barely three inches above the ground, away from the street, off toward the docks. She expected them to follow, and they did, careful to maintain the distance between them, keeping their voices low as they speculated.

"Who is she, Barnabas?"

"I don't know. I've never seen her before. According to May Collins, she is responsible for Giles' condition."

"Is she a witch?"

"How much does she know, about us?"

There were questions. There were no answers. There would be no answers until Vera chose to give them, and then, they would be to the questions she chose to answer.

At the docks, behind one of the waterfront hotels, she stopped. Then, she vanished, to reappear standing on a buoy three feet out in the bay. And she waited for them to come nearer.

"You wish to help Giles Stokes," she taunted them: "There is only one way for you to save Giles, before Trask drives him out of town. You know, in his condition, poor Giles, he won't survive. Poor Giles. But you do want to help him, don't you?"

"What must we do?" Barnabas stood at the edge of the dock, kept his voice low, certain he would be heard.

"What must you do?" Vera clapped her hands, and the image of May Collins appeared, in a low hanging cloud: "You must make her as you are. That should not be too difficult now, should it? You need her, Barnabas Collins, as she needs you, needs a man, not that shell of a man."

"I won't do it. Know that. Whoever you are, whatever this is about, I won't do it."

"You will. You must. When you see her, you will know that, and you will act on that."

And then Vera faded, and was not there, on the buoy, was not there, anywhere they could see.

"Barnabas, what are we going to do?" Julia wrapped her arms about herself. It was cold, suddenly colder.

"We must avoid May, and Collinwood, at all costs. Is Trask the key? Why is he Giles Stokes' enemy?"

"Perhaps we should call on the Rev. Trask?"

"Julia," he turned away from her, stared at his hands, as they shook: "Could you call on Trask? We don't have much time. But..."

Julia took a step toward him.

"Don't." His tone was sharp. "Don't.."

She paid no heed. She took hold of his arm, and led him away from the docks, along the road that would lead them back toward Eagle Hill. "I'll pay a call on Trask in the morning. Right now, you're my immediate concern." She let her physician's manner mask her personal concern, or try to mask it. If she could get him out of town, she might think of something, find a way.

She set a strong pace, and they were on the path in the woods. They weren't that  far from Eagle Hill.

"She told me I'd find you here."

The voice startled Julia. It came from just behind her. She turned, and saw her, May, standing there, off the path, mostly obscured from sight by a boulder. She turned back to see Barnabas, transfixed. His lips curled in what might have been a smile, or a snarl, and she could see the tips of his fangs.

And from their vantage point above the scene, Vera threw back her head and laughed. "Pay up."

"Not yet, my dear," Alma shook her head: "Nothing has happened."

Lily smirked, an odd gesture from one who appeared so innocent, so young: "It will. It must. He must, the fool."

Bethea rubbed up against Alma: "We will wait. It will not be long, one way or the other."

And they settled in, close together, to watch.

Chapter 5