July 1968 - Page 10

I made a useless attempt to keep Vickie Winters from telling the dream to Barnabas this morning. In my fear for Barnabas' life, I went to Collinwood to warn Vickie that Barnabas was determined she pass Angelique's dream curse on to him. To her credit, she was genuinely suffering for him, having made up her mind not to bring the curse to its conclusion.

My feelings make it so difficult for me to keep a firm grip on the situation. I want no harm to come to Vickie, she is an innocent, who is trying to protect him, but above all else, I didn't want any harm to come to Barnabas. I know he must not hear the dream from her, yet the only way for her to find relief from the insidious curse was to tell it to him.

 She was frantic when I told her that he was on his way to force the dream from her, to take the curse to its ultimate conclusion, even though that meant his own death. I thought if I could keep them apart, if I took her away from Collinwood before -- before they could speak -- but it wasn't to be. Barnabas arrived before I could get Vickie away. 

The look of sheer determination on his face chilled me to the bone. I give credit to Vickie's strength of character, she tried to refuse him, and shut herself off in the drawing room.

I tried to reason with Barnabas, and offered him a ray of hope that Prof. Stokes might know of a way to put a stop to the curse as he did before. But Barnabas had made up his mind that Vickie must not suffer the dream's torment any longer, and he didn't want to take the chance of Stokes learning about his past. 

My heart felt as if were being torn from my chest. What difference would it make now if Stokes found out? In my frantic state, I tried to bar his way into the drawing room, until I realized it was not just for Vickie's sake that he was there. He admitted defeat, and said it was useless to fight Angelique. He had given up. He would no longer fight for a reprieve, now that it was Vickie who suffered for him.

It broke my heart to see him that way. I never thought he would surrender to anything. He demanded I get out of his way, and I could see the strength of his decision in his eyes. It was not weakness that forced him to give up, but the return of his human compassion for another. There was nothing left to do but allow him the dignity of deciding his own fate.

When he entered the drawing room and shut the doors behind him, I felt totally helpless, and could only wait through that long silent torment, alone. 

Later, when he came back out, I knew she had told him the dream - he looked like a condemned man, and I wanted desperately to stay with him, but he refused me that, and insisted I stay and comfort Vickie. Oh Barnabas, I suffer for you too!

There's nothing I can do for him now. I watched the way he carried himself as he left, his shoulders seemed a little slumped. He had accepted defeat. All that we have gone through together in the last months is to end because of that vicious, obsessed woman.

With difficulty, I did as Barnabas wanted, I went to Vickie to comfort her, but somehow she seemed to realize that I too was close to Barnabas, and perhaps it was her sympathetic understanding that caused me to almost admit my feelings to her out loud. For a moment, I felt the futility of a woman whose man is being taken by an incurable disease. But my will to fight flared up strong when that witch entered the drawing room, pretending to innocently ask why Vickie was crying. 

All I could think of was how I would love to be able to fight her on her own terms. It's a good thing I have no magic powers. I could so easily forget my sacred oath for the chance to rid the world of her inhuman evil. I've never felt such a hardness of heart before. The hate I felt for her at that moment was more than I could control. I wanted her to know that 'I' know who and what she is, that there can be no 'doubt' in her mind that I know. Without a word, I swung back and slapped that insincere caring look from her face. It gave me great satisfaction to draw the battle line between us. She threatened me, saying I would be sorry for that. But I think not! I will never regret that slap for as long as I live.

I returned to the Old House hoping to keep Barnabas awake with a stimulant, only to find that he had taken a sleeping pill and was ready to accept the dream and the fate of Angelique's curse. He had given up and he prepared for the return of his vampire existence. 

He made me promise -- that I would do the only thing that would release him from that hellish nightmare -- promise that I would drive a stake through his heart! How could 'I' do that to him? Yet how could I allow him to suffer. I -- I care for him too much. I love him too much. It broke my heart -- but in my loyalty to him, I promised that I would do as he asked. 

I sat with him as he slept, and it was obvious to me that he was experiencing the witches dream, and I could do nothing to free him of it. I watched his beloved features in sleep, tense and fitful. 

After what seemed a long time, he awoke with a start, crying out Cassandra's name. But he was alright. He was so happy and relieved that he had survived the dream, and he was sure he had won, and was free of Angelique.

Yet I was not so sure, it was too easy, and I warned him so. Still, he 'was' alive and insisting the curse had not worked. Against my better judgment, I left him alone at his request to get Willie, but when we returned, Barnabas was lying on the ground outside, gasping for life with the bloody bite marks of a bat on his throat. The witch 'had' won after all.

He lay there helpless, too weak to move, but in a pained whisper, he managed to remind me of the terrible promise I had made to him.  Willie saw the bite marks and became irrational with fear that it would all start over again. I had to be harsh with him to get him to carry Barnabas inside. Poor Willie, he seems to have forgiven much of the old cruelty and behaves like the abused child who tries to protect the father who beat him.

With all of my medical skill, there was nothing I could do for him, and I watched his human life slip away before my eyes. I now know the utter heart wrenching grief of the loss of a love. The real physical pain is so intense that it robs you of spirit, yet I could not break down and let Willie see my weakness. Even as I fought the tears that stung my eyes, I picked up the stake and placed it over his heart, and all I could think was, we didn't even say goodbye.

Even with the mallet poised to strike, I did not want to think of it, I 'could' not bring myself to think of his death - or of his return to what he had been. Dear God, what was the most horrible to me at that moment, his loss -- or the threat of his return? 

Willie told me I couldn't do it, and he was right. Like Joshua Collins before me, I could not drive the stake into Barnabas' heart. But I knew I must do what was necessary to keep him from rising and hurting people. Willie understood. He actually tried to comfort me in his way. He almost hugged me. We have both been through a lot for Barnabas, Willie and I.

That was when I made the decision to bury Barnabas in the woods, to keep him from rising. Willie dug the grave and somehow managed to lower the coffin, and there the two of us stood -- still unwilling to let him go, until Willie finally suggested we pray for him. I knelt at his grave and prayed with all my heart for his everlasting soul and the peace he deserved.

So it is over -- the end. Willie tried to console me to the loss. He said I'd feel a lot better if I cried, but though the tears stung my eyes before, all I felt now was a terrible stunned denial. Perhaps if I could imagine life without him, I could cry -- but I can't. He has been the main focus of my life, the all consuming thought of him has filled my days -- and nights. My medical training tells me he is dead, I heard no heartbeat, I felt no pulse, 'I' pronounced him dead, but I looked down at the coffin as Willie shoveled earth on top of it, and I could not imagine living without Barnabas. I do not 'want' to think of life without him. My heart can not accept it. He has made a profound impact on my life.

There is no reason to stay on at Collinwood, so I told Willie we must both leave -- what I didn't say but Willie understood, is that at the next dusk, Barnabas could be a vampire and summon us back to him -- back to release him from the prison of his buried coffin.

Poor Willie, he has no other place to go, no family, nothing outside of his bizarre life with Barnabas. I feel that I have an obligation to Willie, and I offered to take him with me to Wyndcliffe. At first he misunderstood my meaning and looked like a frightened rabbit being lured back to the trap he had escaped. But I explained that he could have a job there, make a new start. I know Barnabas would have wanted that for Willie. He grasped onto that offer like a lifeline and hurried off to pack his things and close up the Old House.

I returned to Collinwood to pack, wanting a quiet moment to look around at the mansion that I had called home, and say goodbye to my life there, only I was confronted by the loathsome witch and her transparent attempt to find out about Barnabas. I looked into her contemptible face and told her that she had finally won. She and the evil dream she'd started.

'Cassandra' still insisted that she didn't know what I was talking about, and with a smirk accused me of having been with Barnabas too much. 

Oh I knew fully well that what she was saying had a double sided meaning, that on the surface she was playing the innocent victim of Barnabas' accusations, yet on a subtler level, she was the jealous woman suspicious of what relationship might have existed between us.

The loss I felt at that moment nearly surfaced at her snide words, that she insinuated I had been too deeply influenced by him. Before she could say another word, I tried to cut her off, not the least bit interested in what she thought. But that evil bitch defiled words I have held sacred in the secrecy of my heart when she accused me of being in love with him, and my hatred for her gave me the strength to look her in the eye, and dare her to compare what I felt for Barnabas with the sick, obsessive travesty she calls love. 

With all of the sarcasm at my disposal dripping like venom from each word, I faced her with a sneer and said, "Not nearly as much as you are." and it turned the confrontation in my favor. My words clearly struck home, as if I had slapped her again. But that small triumph was short lived, as the pain of loss gripped me, and I told her that Barnabas was dead. The man who should have been at the Old House savoring the life she had denied him, perhaps even finding the love she was determined he never see, was dead. 

She tried to continue her pretense, but I told her that nothing will stop me from knowing what she is, and nothing will stop me from doing whatever I can about it! Barnabas is gone, but I will not rest until he is avenged, and I was about to tell her so when the confrontation was interrupted by Professor Stokes asking for my medical help with a friend.

I tried to put him off, my strength was nearly at its end, and I was afraid that I would break down if I were not allowed to deal with my emotions soon, but in confidence Stokes told me that he wanted me to look at Adam. He said that Adam appeared to be dead, but he could not believe it.

Dear God, Barnabas and Adam both dead, the experiment now a completely futile waste, all for nothing.

Stokes took me to the same root cellar where Carolyn had been held captive, and there lay Adam on a miserable slab of a bed, the artificially induced life that Barnabas and I had given him apparently gone from his body. While Stokes was telling me he had a strange feeling that Adam was not really dead, I was impatient to get away, away from what we had done to that poor creature - giving him life without hope, away from Stokes' unreasonable insistence there was life even though there was no heartbeat, away to heed the warning voice in my head to hide the grief that threatened what little control I had left. I almost made my exit against Stokes' protest, when Adam opened his eyes and began gasping for breath and calling Barnabas' name. I know my mouth must have dropped open. This was completely illogical! Adam was suffocating and pushing his hands upward as if trying to push something off of him.

It doesn't make sense, yet he suffered from some unseen attack to his throat before he died suddenly, the same as Barnabas. I asked Stokes when Adam had died, and he said at 11 -- the same as Barnabas. Could it be possible that the experiment linked the two of them together somehow? That they could be the same? That would explain why the dream curse didn't kill Barnabas as it should have -- then it also meant that -- I had buried Barnabas alive!

There was no time to waste on details, I told Stokes enough to get him to come with me and dig up Barnabas' coffin before all of the air ran out.

My patience nearly exploded as Stokes wasted precious minutes pontificating at the grave site, and I had to remind him to dig or Barnabas would suffocate. When we had the coffin finally above ground, I grew fearful of what we might see when the lid was opened, and I tried to get Stokes to leave, but being Stokes he refused until the lid was open and Barnabas lay before us -- still, but alive, thank God. 

I did manage to convince Stokes to return to Adam and make sure he was breathing all right too, before Barnabas revived. I didn't want Barnabas to see Stokes standing beside his coffin and panic. Barnabas does not handle panic well.

I can not describe the pure joy I felt when Barnabas opened his dark eyes, and I looked into their depths. He had a heartbeat, he was still human, and it was all due to the man we wanted out of our lives. Somehow Adam had something to do with keeping Barnabas alive. 

Barnabas sat on the ground beside his coffin, and still could not believe that he was not turning into a vampire. I had to show him a mirror and his reflection before he would believe that he is 'alive'.

Can it be true that he owes his life to Adam? Barnabas was determined to make amends for his vow to kill Adam before. He could not go to him, so he wanted me to make it up with him. He sent me back to the root cellar to Adam, but I found Stokes there alone, and he told me that Adam had run off. 

At least I found out that Adam is all right, but Stokes' interest has been aroused. He said he wants to find out the secret of Barnabas Collins, and promised that he would.

* * *

David showed up at he Old House late tonight anxious to speak to me about he tape recorder I gave him. He was bothered by something on the tape that was odd, a man's voice that called my name and said strange things.

It had to be Eric! He said he'd leave a message for me, he must have left it on the tape recorder. But unfortunately, David could only remember that the message spoke of Barnabas and Adam. If Adam should live, something would happen to them both, but if Adam should die, something else would happen to Barnabas. David could remember no more of the message. 

I decided to clear up the mystery by going back to Collinwood with David and hearing the tape for myself. When we arrived at Collinwood, we met 'Cassandra' and Nicholas Blair, but David's stubborn refusal to obey Cassandra and go to bed caused Cassandra to feign a headache to escape outside, with Mr. Blair following close behind. I'm sure they are up to something, but I'm just as glad they left.

We found the tape recorder and tried to play the message, but to both our surprises, the music on the tape was not the same. Someone had replaced the tape that contained the message, and it was not difficult to guess who. I'm positive Cassandra has that tape and knows about Adam and the experiment -- and she knows how to destroy Barnabas. There is no way I can stop her, no way at all. It puts Barnabas in very grave danger.

I rushed back to the Old House and told Barnabas everything that had happened and he agreed that we must find out exactly what Eric's message said. Though now that Cassandra has it, I doubt we'll ever find it.

We must find Adam before Cassandra does, because she knows how to use Adam to harm Barnabas, and the consequences could be terrifying. Where could he be hiding? It is imperative that we find out.

* * *

 Lately it seems that my life has become one confrontation after another. How appropriate that Stokes should choose to exchange our little skirmish of words over a chess board. At least he was sitting during our conversation, I don't like the feeling that he tries to use his size to tower over me and politely intimidate information from me. I am 'not' intimidated by any means, but the feeling that it amused Stokes to try rankles me.

I told him that Barnabas and I needed his help, we believe Stokes knows where Adam is hiding, and it is imperative that he tell us. But Stokes chose a verbal stand off with me, unwilling to give information until I told him what he wanted to know about the connection between Barnabas and Adam.

He asked about the meaning of the last line of the dream curse riddle and how it affected Barnabas, and he pointed out that Barnabas must have wanted the secret burial because the death was either shameful or gruesome. I kept trying to give him harmless reasons to answer all of his questions, but Stokes is no fool, he refused to believe my answers, saying they were hardly adequate.

I begged him to listen to me, but it was useless. Before he left, Stokes revealed that he knows Adam is an artificially created human being, and Barnabas is somehow responsible for his creation. I am now very afraid of what Stokes might do with his suspicions.

Vickie Winters came to me tonight, frightened, saying that the painting of Angelique had changed. It had, the face had become grotesque, as if the whole canvas had aged into a sagging tumerous surface within the frame. I tried not to say too much that might implicate Barnabas, but Vickie was astute enough to guess that the picture had something to do with Angelique -- that what happens to the picture happens to her. She was afraid to stay alone with the picture, and asked me not to leave, but I had to tell Barnabas what was happening. Wherever Angelique was, she must be aging her full 200 years.

I arrived at the Old House to find Barnabas with the witch. She appeared to be in severe pain and begged me to help her. Barnabas said that she had somehow become human and was dying, but he demanded that I would not try to help her. She was under a spell and no one could help her.

She would not allow me to look at her face, instead she hobbled out crying that only one man could help her now. There could be only one man that could be. I knew if she got to Nicholas that she would not die, she would continue to return to plague Barnabas again and again. But is we kept her from that, perhaps she would finally go to her grave and eternal sleep. Then Barnabas would be free of her. 

Barnabas already let that chance slip through his fingers. He'd had a gun, and pointed it at her, but he chose not to use it on the witch who had killed all of those he loved and turned him into a creature of the night. In my heart, I am joyous that the human compassion I knew to be part of this man was too strong to commit such an act of violence, but Angelique has only been human for a few minutes, and her past history of bouncing back from spells is well known to me. 

One act of compassion may have reprieved her evil soul once again to rain horror down upon Barnabas and his family for an eternity. She had to be stopped. Barnabas believed that he could only be free if Nicholas ended her life. 

I could not believe the same as Barnabas, I could not be passive and 'let' it happen. I picked up the gun knowing if she was truly powerless at that moment, then that was the moment to strike, before she could get her powers back. Barnabas wanted to wait -- so that he could learn more about Nicholas, but I could not be still, I had to do the practical thing, against his protests. I put the gun in my pocket.

All the way back to Collinwood, Barnabas asked me to give him the gun, but I could not. By eliminating Angelique, this could be the last chance I will ever have to go back to my old life, to leave Barnabas with dignity. I was so sure it was the answer, but for a change it was Barnabas who pointed out to me that shooting Angelique would only lead to imprisonment for murder rather than my old life back. 

I suppose I was being irrational, I thought no one would convict me once they knew what she was and what she had done, but Barnabas gently reminded me that no one would believe that she was a witch. He was right. I could be admitted to Wyndcliffe for it. The decision was taken out of my hands when we entered Collinwood and found Angelique there near death. Her heart was so weak there was nothing I could do. Roger insisted that we had to take her to the hospital in his car, but we returned to the drawing room, the window was thrown open and Angelique had vanished. 

She must have left to find Nicholas, and if she is successful, -- if he forgives her -- then I am certain Barnabas will be her victim again. We can't start all of this over again She will have no mercy for Barnabas. We can not allow her to regain her powers.

Barnabas looked for Nicholas, hoping desperately to keep Angelique from him before she dies. Circumstances appeared to make a turn for the best. Barnabas returned to Collinwood with news that Angelique is dead -- she died at the Old House begging for his forgiveness.

Is he free -- can she come back? She has before. Barnabas was so confused, unable to face the uncertainty of whether she could return. The portrait --we thought the portrait might tell us what to expect, and we went to Vickie's room and found the canvas blank. I cherish the smile that softened his face at the moment he spoke the words, "I am free!" But is he? I wonder. 

As we walked to the Old House, I realized Angelique couldn't have written her 'Dear John' letter to Roger, and I warned Barnabas that it must be a plot, perhaps Nicholas was trying to cause Barnabas to be afraid and panic and do something to over his head. 

Barnabas wanted to hastily bury Angelique' body without notifying the Sheriff, he was afraid that an investigation would lead to questions that he didn't want asked, but when we were inside the Old House, we discovered that Angelique's body was gone. Perhaps Nicholas removed it, if so, I hope he took it back to the bowels of Hell where it belongs. 

Barnabas asks for nothing more than to live out his life as he would have it, as a normal man, living in freedom from the threat of the witch's curse. 

There is only one way we can know that she is truly gone. Nicholas came here to bring her back from Trask's exorcism. If she is gone, then Nicholas will leave Collinsport.