I was right not to trust Willie. He left Adam alone while I was out, even after I warned him. If anything had happened, if Adam had somehow escaped, or someone had found him here.... I never should have let Barnabas talk me into having Willie released from Windcliff. He isn't stable yet, and his instability could be very dangerous. But we have no choice. Someone has to stay with Adam at all times, and he is the only person besides myself and Barnabas who can do it. I don't know if even my threats are enough to keep him in line. When I returned later this afternoon, I heard Willie yelling; I found him cowering in a corner of the cell while Adam was pounding at the walls, in a frenzy over something...no doubt Willie agitated him somehow. I managed to calm him down with my necklace; Willie told me he likes shiny things. I wonder how he discovered that. Now Willie is terrified of Adam, and apparently with good reason--whatever he did obviously made Adam hostile to him. He insisted that Adam had to be destroyed, but I can't accept that--I've seen things in him--evidence of a sharp, alert mind that seems very well able and eager to learn--what a fascinating study he would be, if I had the time and the opportunity to study him, if I didn't have to worry constantly that his very existence could prove to be of mortal danger to us.

I was surprised when Cassandra asked me this morning to go with her to visit Professor Stokes. She has gone out of her way to be friendly to me, as if she's looking for an ally; yet I can't tell what's on her mind. Does she really have no idea that I know who she is? No, she's far shrewder than that. She knows that I'm close to Barnabas; she knows that I know things she doesn't. I would almost like to believe that she's jealous of me... but more likely she's looking for some crack, some way she can grab hold of what she wants so badly to know. But she won't learn it from me. If she chooses, for her own reasons, to act friendly to me, I'll go along with it. It's always better to know your enemy as well as you can. It also occurred to me that it might help Prof. Stokes if he knew her a little better, too--he is a very intelligent man; he just might gain some insight into her power and her motives and learn more about how to defeat her--although there's always the danger that he might learn too much about her motives--but that has to be the least of our concerns now.

What happened after that is much more frightening. When we returned to Collinwood, Roger was nearly frantic--he said David had been attacked and nearly killed by a stranger in the woods--a "huge" man with a disfigured face--Roger shot him in the shoulder. Of course I knew who it had to be; I managed to excuse myself to Cassandra while Roger was talking to the police on the phone. The police! Dear God, now we really are in trouble. How did Adam manage to get away?

When I got to the Old House, Barnabas was just returning; he had been with Roger and seen Adam holding David. He said he had managed to talk Adam into letting David go but couldn't prevent Roger from shooting. He was as alarmed as I was to hear that the police would be here soon. He told me something more--Adam had spoken his name. He seemed touched, almost proud, when he told me; he said he had come looking for me to tell me about it. Apparently Adam had become upset when Barnabas left him and had pulled the chain from the wall. He does seem to think of Barnabas as a father figure--he behaved as any child would who was afraid of being abandoned. But his strength is extraordinary, and he has no conception of how or when to control it. He can only act out of instinct.

We found him huddled in his cell, frightened and in pain, like a hurt child running back home to its parents. He was afraid of us again and came at us the way a wounded animal would. Barnabas managed to calm him, reassuring him that we were going to help him. Finally he let me approach him, touch him; luckily the wound wasn't serious. He allowed me to clean and dress it, although he moaned in pain several times. At least he does seem to trust us--we can be grateful for that. He cried out when Barnabas started to leave, but he seemed to understand that he would come back and that I was helping him. When I finished bandaging the wound, he took my hand, as though he were trying to thank me. The strength of his grip hurt me, but when I told him, he pulled back--he understood, and I understood that he didn't want to hurt me. I felt touched by his simple gratitude. I've said he would be a fascinating study, but I realize now that he's much more than that--he isn't a scientific specimen but a human being, regardless of how he came into the world. He has feelings and he has a mind, one that I think is going to learn and develop very quickly. I only hope we can keep him safe until it does.

Mrs. Johnson came back from Boston today. She was in a terrible state. Being away did her no good at all--I was afraid it wouldn't. She'd been having the dream every night, she said, each time more terrifying than the last. How well I know! Even with the urgent reason I had to keep from telling it, I couldn't bear the agony of it...how could I expect that she would? She was frantic, crying, desperate to tell David. I tried to stop her, to comfort her somehow. I told her Stokes was looking for a way to end it, but I had to admit that it would take several days. I can understand how that would seem like an eternity to her now. She asked me a question that has no answer but that cut right to the heart of this terrible curse: what is it about the dream that makes people stop being themselves? That's exactly what it does; I wasn't myself when I was having it, or I would never have given in, knowing the danger it means to Barnabas. It's Angelique's cruel way of using every one of us by making us need, knowingly and desperately, to hurt another person in order to free ourselves of our own anguish. She must be taking an evil delight in watching each of us in turn succumb to her manipulations.

And she is manipulating us, weaving each of us into her design like a master craftsman--if we don't give in willingly, she sends the temptation to us. David came to the Old House while Mrs. Johnson was here--supposedly because Roger wanted to see me, but I know the reason he was really there. I tried to distract him by promising to show him the tape recorder so that I could get Mrs. Johnson out of the house. But Willie came in, and while we were talking, David slipped out. It's too late now. Just a little while ago I heard him wake up screaming.

Something terrible has happened to Sam Evans, and Angelique is responsible--but so, I hate to say, is Barnabas, although unwittingly. Maggie came looking for Barnabas tonight, crying frantically that her father had lost his sight and that he was demanding to see Barnabas.

We went to the cottage with her. Sam wanted no one else in the room except Barnabas, refusing to let me examine him, but Barnabas persuaded him to let me stay. I was shocked by what followed. Sam accused Barnabas of involving him in something evil and blamed him for what happened. Apparently Barnabas brought him the portrait of Angelique and hired Sam to make it look old--and Cassandra aged along with it! The "old woman" who came to the house and demanded the portrait back was Cassandra, and when Sam wouldn't give it to her, she blinded him! I felt cold to the bone. Up till now I really hadn't been able to conceive of the kind of evil that could do what she did to Barnabas and his family, but now it's all too clear--she is a creature completely without any compassion or human feeling at all, capable of being so casually and unspeakably cruel to innocent people. I don't believe that Sam will ever see again--when he did agree to let me examine his eyes, I could see that the optic nerves were damaged, and even though I'm not an ophthalmologist, I know that the damage is irreversible. Complete and permanent blindness--to an artist! She would have been more merciful if she'd killed him.

I was angry at Barnabas at first for having gotten Sam mixed up in his private war with Angelique, but he was so remorseful, so contrite and guilt-stricken, that my heart--again--went out to him. After all, he is the one with the most to lose--the real target of her evil scheme. He tried a tactic that he thought might defeat her and it went horribly wrong, and took another victim. She must be stopped somehow--but how? What can we do against a power and a ruthlessness like hers? There must be some way--there must be....

Adam has escaped. At a time when we can least afford it, fate has twisted another knot in our lives--in all of our lives.

The chaos broke while we were at the Evans' house, and as I feared Willie was the catalyst for it. We returned to the Old House to find ourselves in the midst of it--Adam unchained, attacking Willie in the drawing room, strangling him, Willie screaming for help. Barnabas tried to stop it--he tried to pull Adam off Willie, but Adam seemed to be crazed, and Barnabas started to beat him with his cane. Adam let go of Willie, but turned on Barnabas, grabbing him by the throat. I panicked for a moment and tried to pull Adam off him myself, but of course that didn't work--luckily my thoughts cleared and I realized my only chance was to reach Adam's deepest feelings, that childlike attachment and dependence. I reminded him that he loved Barnabas, and he seemed to understand my words. He released him, crying, and ran off--I didn't watch him go; I was too afraid for Barnabas--he was lying unconscious on the floor. But he revived and wanted to go after Adam. I tried to talk him out of it. Suddenly it all seemed so wrong, so insane, the whole experiment, the idea that we could turn Adam into a mature, civilized human being. A "man" put together out of scavenged body parts, brought to life by machinery and the bizarre delusions of a megalomaniac! It seems so obvious to me now that Adam is badly damaged, that he will never be a normal human being. Barnabas was determined to find him and destroy him before he could be captured--and speak Barnabas' name again. I tried to convince him to let Adam go, let him wander off somewhere and disappear--to let nature take care of man's mistake--but despite my fear I had to admit he was right. The little he does know makes Adam too dangerous.

We saw no sign of him in the woods, and the noise of the storm made it impossible to hear any movement. But as we came close to Collinwood we heard the horrible sounds that the storm couldn't mask--the sound of screams. When we got to the door Adam was clutching Carolyn in his arms. Barnabas pointed the rifle at him, but apparently there is some canniness in his mind, driven by his survival instinct--he knew enough to hold Carolyn in front of him as a shield while he escaped. Barnabas went after him, and I felt so helpless--all I could do was call the police and try to comfort Mrs. Stoddard. But she wasn't consoled, and neither am I. Barnabas and I have released this strange, frightened, irrational creature into the world, and the consequences of that act are reaching out to the people we care about, entangling them with us in this web of deception and destruction.

There's been no sign of Adam or Carolyn yet. The police are out searching, as is Barnabas. He asked me to send Willie out to help the search, but Willie is in no condition to help anyone--he's had the dream. And Carolyn is the person he must pass it on to!

I thought that perhaps I might be able to hypnotize Willie into forgetting the dream--at least temporarily, so that he could function. But the curse is too strong; it overcame the power of hypnosis. Willie awakened still remembering the dream. But something more frightening happened--while he was in the trance, he told me he could see Carolyn--and that she was "under the ground"! He didn't remember having the vision after he woke up, but when I told him what he'd said, he was terrified--less for Carolyn's welfare than his own; if Carolyn is dead, he won't be able to tell her the dream. Oh, yes, that dream makes us "stop being ourselves." I know Willie isn't a callous person and does care about what happens to Carolyn, but he is completely unable to think of anything now except that wretched dream. What would happen, I couldn't help wondering, if Carolyn were dead...? Would the curse end then, or would she find another way, another victim, another pawn to keep her deadly game going...but I can't even think that way. Carolyn must be safe. They must find her.

The sheriff came around and questioned Willie and me. He suspects that we have some connection with Adam. He pointed out that Adam had been seen around here and that he'd been heard speaking Barnabas' name. I tried to deflect his suspicions, but he noticed Willie's agitation, and I don't think he believed it was due only to nightmares.

Then they spotted him. He had come back, prowling around the house again, and the sheriff saw him through the window. He ran out, firing his gun...and they caught him. It took twenty men, the sheriff said, but they have Adam in custody. Just Adam. He didn't have Carolyn with him when they captured him, and of course he can't tell them where she is. What will they think of him when they have him in jail and try to question him? That he is a poor mute, perhaps mentally retarded, who isn't responsible for his actions, who has no intention of harming anyone? That is, if--as I pray--he hasn't harmed Carolyn. But the sheriff is too shrewd to settle for such a simple explanation. He saw that Adam recognized Willie and me, and I'm sure he won't let the matter drop so easily. What will happen if Adam says Barnabas' name again? And Carolyn...she must be all right. If only they can find her....

Professor Stokes may--or may not--have stopped the Dream Curse. 

Since Carolyn was found, Willie has been frantic to get to her and tell her the dream. He even broke into her bedroom last night and woke her up. She was able to fight him off and force him to leave before he could tell her any more than the very beginning of it. I had to lock him in his room--I hated to do that, but there didn't seem to be any other way to control him. Poor Willie.

I called the professor and asked him to come to the Old House, praying that he had discovered something by now. In a way I suppose I felt that he owed it to us, that he was partly responsible for it, since Roger met Cassandra through him. But I know that's illogical and unfair. He was only another of her instruments; if it hadn't been him she would have found some other way to insinuate herself into Collinwood, through Roger or by some other means. It's obvious that she won't let anyone or anything stand in the way of her revenge on Barnabas. So if we're going to stop her, it will have to be by thrusting something unexpected in her way, something she isn't prepared to handle--a counterattack. The element of surprise--and resistance.

That was the professor's plan. And the first part of it has worked. Now we must wait and see how she will riposte.

Stokes is a man of considerable intelligence and ingenuity. He has already intuited much about the curse. He's discovered that Maggie resembles Josette and believes that's why Angelique chose to start the curse with her. I reminded him that Josette and Maggie are not the same person, but he is beginning to come uncomfortably close to the truth--I'm afraid I only added to his suspicions when I let it slip that Barnabas' fate might be worse than death. I have wondered why he was willing to risk his own life to save a man he barely knows; now I wonder if he might have a deeper motive than altruism. He claims to have been looking his whole life for a chance to be St. George, to fight a dragon of his own, and that the occult has given him that dragon. But he has to wonder about the reason for this curse and why Barnabas is the target of it. He's admitted to being "curious" about Barnabas--his mind may already be set on investigating mysteries beyond the immediacy of the curse. But he is our only hope now; I have to trust him.

I protested when he said that Carolyn must come and listen to Willie tell her the dream, but he insisted, and I had to give in. Poor Carolyn was already terrified just at the prospect of having the dream, but Stokes managed to convince her that she had to go through with it. I could only hope he wasn't making a terrible mistake.

* * *

I'm amazed at what Stokes has been able to do; up until now I wasn't sure if his confidence in himself wasn't just empty arrogance, but I've gained a great deal of respect for him tonight. He did insert himself into Carolyn's dream, just as he said he would; he appeared as her beckoner instead of whoever Angelique would have chosen. Then he listened to the dream and went to sleep himself, in spite of the danger he knew he was putting himself in.

He awoke, not screaming, not trembling in terror as I and the others had done, but calmly, almost triumphantly. His story was incredible. He defied every step of the dream. He made his beckoner--Sam Evans--speak to him. He walked voluntarily into the room and recited the riddle himself. Then he called out to her--to Angelique--to show herself; and she did. She appeared to him, and he continued to defy her, refusing to submit to her intimidation or her spells. He forced her to retreat.

He knows for certain now that Cassandra is the witch and that Barnabas is indeed her target. But he doesn't believe--and neither do I--that she has been defeated permanently. She will remain determined to keep the curse going. She has already begun to fight back. The professor and I were still talking about the dream when someone knocked at the door--it was Sam Evans and Joe Haskell. Sam said he had had a sudden compulsion to come to the Old House, that he knew somehow that Stokes--whom he's never met before tonight--had something to tell him. But Stokes refused to say anything, and Sam and Joe left.

What will happen now? Stokes said that we've only won a battle, not the war, and I know he's right. Angelique will not give up. But what will her next step be? Stokes doesn't seem to feel compelled to tell the dream the way all the rest of us did, so she will need to find another way to pass it on to Sam. And I have no doubt that she will.

I feel frightened and totally helpless. It certainly isn't the first time I've felt like this since I've been here, but this time it's deeper than ever before. This time I have absolutely no control over anything. Even when I was struggling with Barnabas, fighting what sometimes seemed a losing battle against his impulsive destructiveness, I always knew that there was something buried deep within him, something good and rational, that might eventually win out over the fear and violent behavior that had been forced on him. But she--she is so single-minded, so resolutely and calculatedly cruel that there is no way to reach her through any human feeling. She will get what she wants no matter who she has to hurt. She lost Barnabas once long ago to his love for Josette, and she retaliated by turning him into a monster. Now she's lost him again through his escape from her curse, and she is determined to reestablish that curse, to get him under her control again for eternity. I have never in my life hated anyone or felt the desire for vengeance, but God help me, if I knew of any way to destroy her, I would do it without hesitation. For Barnabas' sake, for the people whose lives she's destroyed, I would violate even the sacred oath I took. Surely such a creature can't be human, can't be deserving of mercy.... 

Do I really believe that? That one who shows no mercy deserves none? I never used to think that way...how much about me has changed since I've come to Collinwood. I've learned things about myself that have shocked me. Necessity--or what we see as necessity--does more than just spur invention; it brings out the shadows in the soul and exposes them to light so that we can't deny their existence. Then it leaves them for us to integrate, to rebuild ourselves on a less firm foundation--and only we can decide if we'll use it to make ourselves stronger, or let it destroy us. I hope I'll also learn that I'm capable of the former.

We've had another séance--secretly this time, only the professor and me and Tony Peterson. I didn't want to do it, not after the experience of the last one, but the professor insisted. He was convinced that the only way to defeat the witch was through a witch hunter--the Reverend Trask.

Stokes was right about Cassandra not giving up--she struck again, and quickly, at Professor Stokes. And she did it through Tony Peterson. Apparently he has been in her power for some time. She sent him to Stokes' house on a pretext and ordered him to poison the professor. But he was clever enough to be on guard. He switched his own drugged drink with Tony's. When Tony fell unconscious, Stokes called me, afraid that he might have killed him.

Luckily Tony was still alive when I arrived; the professor had known what to give him. Then he showed me something surprising--the memoirs of his ancestor, Ben Stokes, the former servant who was Barnabas' friend, whom he taught to read and write. But much of the manuscript, the professor said, was missing. Ben Stokes wrote about how Trask had caused an innocent young woman to be hanged as a witch and how furious Barnabas had been over it. But the rest of the section was missing.

Then an extraordinary thing happened--the professor began to write the missing portion himself--but he did it in Ben Stokes' handwriting. Apparently Ben's spirit was there, in the room with us, trying to help us. I was shocked by what the spirit-writing said: that Barnabas Collins had taken revenge on the Reverend Trask--by walling him up in an alcove in the "coffin room" of the Old House. I didn't want to believe Barnabas could have done that. I suppose there was really no reason why it should have surprised me--I remember only too well how he was when I first met him. But that was after he'd been confined in lonely darkness, isolated from the world, for two hundred years--and his reactions then were mostly goaded by fear. Could he really have deliberately done something so cruel in 1795? 

I was to find out that it was true. Stokes and Tony and I went to the Old House basement--the "coffin room"--and prepared for a séance, to try to call Trask's spirit back. Even though Tony protested, not being a believer, he agreed to stay and help us--perhaps his own way of getting revenge on Cassandra. Interestingly enough, he went into a trance almost right away. When he spoke, it was Trask speaking through him. Stokes urged him to come back, to complete his life's purpose that ended so abruptly, so that he could rest in peace. Then we heard a noise, and when we turned around, we saw the brick wall beginning to crumble and fall! Within moments a skeleton, hanging by its wrists, became visible. It was a horrifying sight.

Stokes continued to urge Trask to appear, but we saw nothing. Tony was upset at the thought that he might have been "possessed" by Trask and wanted to leave, but the professor persuaded him to stay, convinced that Tony had a "psychic link" to Trask. Nevertheless, although Stokes continued to speak to Trask and even though he and I were both sure we felt some presence in the room, still nothing happened. Until a sound came from upstairs. The sound of music.

Here, unfortunately, I made an impulsive mistake. I recognized the music as what was on Eric's tape recorder, and before I could think I said the name "Adam". I know Barnabas believes Adam isn't dead, despite his fall from Widow's Hill, and when I heard the music it leaped into my mind that he might have returned. Of course Stokes heard and insisted on coming upstairs with me, even though I tried to dissuade him. But it was only David, who'd been playing outside, saw the tape recorder, and remembered that I had promised it to him. I let him take it, glad that he was willing to leave so quickly. But Stokes wasn't to be dismissed as easily as David. He began to question me about Adam. Then he surprised me again--he told me he had recently met a very large man named Adam--and he described him perfectly. But he met him last night! So Adam did survive his fall, and Stokes knows it. I kept trying to evade his questions, and he accused me of "protecting" someone. But before he could go any further, we heard Tony shouting from the basement.

The skeleton had disappeared from the alcove.

Tony had felt tired and laid his head on the table. He heard nothing, but when he looked up, he said, he saw that the alcove was empty. Now Stokes is sure that Trask was there. He appealed again to the reverend's spirit, asking him for some kind of sign, but there was still nothing. 

I was exhausted and overcome by a sense of futility. I honestly don't know if we succeeded in raising Trask's spirit or not. Perhaps the skeleton only disintegrated from exposure to the air. Maybe we only imagined that we heard him speaking in Tony's voice--Tony may have been carried away himself, although he wouldn't admit to that. At that moment, everything again seemed hopeless to me--I only wanted to leave there, to go back to Collinwood, to get some rest and have a chance to think--so much has happened today. I left a note for Barnabas--I don't even remember what I said; I tried to warn him about what happened without specifying, only telling him to come to me at Collinwood immediately. When Tony and I left, the professor was still there. I don't know how long he stayed or what else he might have done; I assume he tried to appeal to Trask's spirit again. His tolerance for frustration must be greater than mine--at least tonight.

Now as I write this I'm still trying to sort out everything. Tony under Cassandra's spell, attempting to kill Stokes, then lying to Cassandra, telling her he's succeeded--did she believe him? If she learns the truth--as she's bound to eventually--what will she do to Tony for deceiving her? Have we put him in even greater danger by involving him in our scheme? Adam having survived and Stokes having seen him; Barnabas having walled a man up alive, even a man like Trask--the appearance and disappearance of the skeleton. What does it all mean? Have we really released Trask's spirit into the world again? If we have, will he indeed try to rectify his long-ago mistake--will he seek out Angelique and destroy her? Will he turn out to be more destructive than we're counting on?

I wish Barnabas would come. David said he'd be back around noon; it's past that now. I haven't been able to sleep; I've been writing this since I came back after the séance. Just a little while ago I went back to the Old House to see if he and Willie had returned yet, but my note was still on the hall table and there was no sign of anyone there. I'm sure he will come as soon as he returns; it's sleeplessness and edginess that's making me so impatient. But I would feel so much better if he were here....