August 1968 - Page 11

The nights have been restful recently and if there is such a notion that one can catch up on lost sleep, then I have. I feel a renewed vigor of energy coursing through me, my old bounce restored in my step. Barnabas is enjoying a feeling of elation since Cassandra’s death -- a newfound sense of freedom he has not experienced in over two centuries. I share his outlook....however foolish it may be.

My new dress suited my uplifted mood -- nothing that spectacular, just the red chrysanthemum, pinned to the lapel, seemed to shout of necessary color. Actually, now that I see it on myself, it resembles Mrs. Stoddard’s style more than my own. For a moment, as I descended the grand stairway, I felt to be in her footsteps as the mistress of Collinwood. An impulsive idea challenged my feminist reserve. Why not take advantage of the new dress I am wearing and ask Barnabas out to dinner this evening. Perhaps bold in his eyes....a woman asking an old-fashion man. But then, he’s been well aware of that quality in me since our first meeting.

I admit my senses have always been acute, but still I had no warning of what was to come. In fact, I should have known better. Life is not meant to be planned here at Collinwood -- only uncertainty stumbling across our unchosen paths....suspense lurking around its many corners.

The healthy tincture of Barnabas’ skin the summer months had given him were washed away....whitened. The proverbial hounds once more are howling in their anguish, throwing him into a controlled panic. He did not need to say anything -- I knew trouble had arrived. In a trio, so to speak. Two others followed quickly after him in a flurry of activity. Mr. Blair was the first to arrive. My sharp and critical eye warily has glanced his way more than once with distrust. He may carry an Old Mediterranean charm in his facade, a character that communicates most eloquently.....but one that lacks any goodness in his character. He was feeding on Barnabas’ anguish with delight and relishing it with a look of pure pleasure.

Soon after Blair’s unnecessary appearance, Jeff Clark charged through the busy door in a whirlwind.....frantic. Not only is Vicki missing but, in his desperate search for his fiancee, he has discovered in the woods a man dead or near death.....two gaping wounds located on his neck.

A pang of alarm hit me, beginning to imagine the worst scenario.....my eyes suspiciously shifting towards Barnabas.

Barnabas has sworn he has not reverted and I must believe him.  But my fear has kicked over. Somewhere in our midst there is another vampire!
(episode 554)

Jeff Clark, with his characteristic habit, barged into the Old House tonight, his annoying agitation leading him in directions he does not belong. He is suspicious of Adam -- who he is -- where he came from; throwing questions and speculations towards Barnabas and myself.....implicating we are responsible for finishing Lang’s experiment. He claims Adam’s description fits the bill of Lang’s creation -- a super human. He interrogated us as though it were some kind of legal deposition. Accusing us....while we denied the truth.
(episode 557)

Things are hanging on the edge of chaos and I find myself descending into it.....outside of my control. Circumstances and other people -- Adam, Barnabas, even Professor Stokes -- are forcing me to do what is against my better judgment. Against the very core of my principles. 

Adam is responsible for Vicki’s disappearance, delivering Barnabas her diamond engagement ring as proof of his revenge.  He is holding her hostage until we....I....meet his demands -- creating a mate that he can love and, in return, be loved. It’s ironic that he shares what we all strive to have in our lives, but what life does not always guarantee to all. I find it highly implausible to believe Adam has the intelligence to integrate such a plan. His instincts are too primitive. As shocking as it sounds, I admitted to Barnabas that I should have let him kill Adam that first day in the lab.

The Professor knows of what Adam is demanding of us and agrees with Barnabas and myself. There is no question that someone else is behind him.....using Adam for whatever evil purposes he intends. I suspect Blair. It is a game to him, playing it smart and gloating at the same time, while using us as his pawns in his audacious confidence.

How dare Stokes take a personal tone with me in our conversation, especially with Barnabas standing beside me.  Intimidating -- or was it an accusation -- that my decision not to go along with Adam’s demand is influenced by my lesser feelings for Vicki, compared to Barnabas’ own, as he put it. I resented his insinuation, a trick into revealing what is not there, believing a jealousy on my part. The thought had not crossed my mind.  Jealousy, I have long realized, is a negative force within oneself.  No....I have learned from past experience to quash any jealousy over Barnabas.

It is much more than that. I know my capabilities.....my limits.  Failure is not in my blood, but this time it is in my mind. I feel my own inadequacies in my ability to recreate Lang’s experiment.

Adam is totally farfetched in his demands, manipulating us as his puppets, pulling the strings with his threat. But his unreasonable obstinance is not his alone I have dealt with on this matter.  Barnabas is another. We have butted heads again in a gridlock.  Just because the well-earned title of “Doctor” proceeds my name, each of them believes it gives me the knowledge and talent to practice every field in the world of medicine.

I admit it is unusual to carry two doctorates and in such contrasting fields. But a surgeon -- and reconstructive at that -- I am not. No level of persuasion can convince either of them. I see the same similar trait of masculine stubbornness they both share.

My pride subsists in my solid foundation of personal and professional ethics. Deep, fundamental truths that don’t die easily. Can I ignore these principles....push back the borders of my limitations? Is that alone worth the risk of Vicki’s death? The frightful burden of bloodshed, sacrificing the lives of the Collins’ family to Adam’s vendetta, will rest on my decision. As the Professor foresees, Adam will carry out his retaliation. 

My chosen response is.....do I have any choice? There is no feeling resting comfortably about my decision. I detest my involvement in this outlandish madness. No longer can I remain true to myself.

But still....Barnabas is striking a dangerous bargain with the likes of the devil.
(episode 558)

Adam has kept up his end of the bargain with Barnabas. Vicki has returned, frightened but physically unharmed.....with no memories conveniently remaining of her abduction.

Once more, I find myself reluctantly brought into what Barnabas freely chose in his actions -- his alliance with Lang. Each sought out the other to fulfill the desperate answer to their own search.  Barnabas....to end the suffering of his curse. Lang....to challenge the laws of nature. Now, I must face the consequences of both their actions, causing a domino effect -- creating a race of monsters.

I can’t blame Willie for bailing out due to the current circumstances. If I had any sense I would leave at the first opportunity myself. Barnabas is asking too much of him. I must look at his weakness with compassion, assuring him I would not go along with Barnabas’ own threat to send him back to Wyndcliffe permanently if he did not assist in our mission. It is not disloyal service, just human response to escape the unpleasant task Barnabas has placed upon him -- to retrieve human cadavers for the experiment, vile and frightening as it is for him.

Poor Willie. He never made it out the door due to Barnabas’ shameful strategy of manipulation -- keeping him under his thumb where he thinks Willie belongs. The incident is unfortunate and I regret Barnabas’ tactics that he used....focusing on another of Willie’s vulnerabilities -- his infatuation with Maggie Evans.  Frightening him with the possibility of Adam’s anger released on her made me wince with memories I’d rather forget. I saw a reminder of the cruelty Barnabas had been capable of before....a glimpse of the evil that had once consumed him. Will there always linger a side of the vampire in the man?
(episode 560)

The experiment has claimed all my attention and energy. I’ve had to remind Barnabas that I cannot be at his beckoned call to attend to little problems he can handle himself.

It’s been a difficult time, facing the chore of sorting through all of Lang’s notes and materials. There is still much work to be done before I begin the experiment.

I must borrow my strength from my creativity and resourcefulness. “Begin with the end in mind” is my driving force to keep the process going....to recreate Lang’s monstrosity. As I told Willie -- I no longer know what is right or wrong....I only know what is necessary.
(episode 561)

Tom Jennings is dead. I heard the distressful news myself from Joe Haskell. Poor Joe. I am worried about him. He refuses any of my help, yet he is obviously under a greater strain, carrying a guilt that he refuses to share with anyone. Tom’s funeral is today, his final wish to be buried quickly. My suspicions lead me to believe there is more to what Joe knows about his cousin’s death than he is telling me.

The signs are all there. Dr. Beevers accredits Tom’s death to animal bites -- the body drained of its subsistence. Yet I am not aware of any of God’s creatures capable of doing such a hideous act. Only one -- an inhuman creature. The narrow-minded logic of Beever’s medical explanation cannot begin to derive the possibilities arising from the unknown dark side of evil. A side that only in this past year I have found to exist.

I dread telling Barnabas, but he must be told for only he and I know the consequences. How well I know what his reaction will be. If only I could protect him from the facts of Tom’s death.

I watched the horror darken his eyes, awakening the memory of his own too recent torment replay in his mind -- remembering the endless nights of wandering, his unholy hunger provoking him beyond his conscious morality. My heart filled with Barnabas’ own pain when I told him the news of Jennings’ death and the familiar marks left on his neck.

From his own past suffering, Barnabas refuses to allow another innocent soul to travel the same hellish existence. He has decided he cannot allow Jennings to rise. With his own capable hands, he must intervene -- his own guilt and obligation overriding the consequences of his own peril. I fear the sacrifice he boldly gives, unable to stop him.

Barnabas’ efforts were too late -- Tom’s coffin was empty. I fear the terror once more to bestow on Collinwood again....the innocent victims lost to a vampire’s relentless thirst. But Jennings is alone, no one to contain him, to act as his lost conscious as I was for Barnabas. How did this all begin? Barnabas naturally rests the guilt upon Cassandra. But she is dead. Dead....does that word actually mean the end for her existence? I sincerely doubt it! 

He is determined to locate Jennings -- his sense of obligation taking a life of its own, his own demon to fight. But I had to remind Barnabas once more of the experiment and our responsibility together we must share. I have allowed him to depend too heavily on my own strength. He believes I am quite capable of handling it all without him should, God forbid, something happen to him. But even this crisis is too much for myself alone. I MUST rely on Barnabas to handle Willie’s hysterics and Adam’s demands, leaving me to deal with what I know best -- medical science and Barnabas. 
(episode 564)

Barnabas returned Vicki’s engagement ring to her this evening. I interrupted her visit. Of course, once more, Barnabas had to explain my frequent presence at the Old House. It was his own story -- not mine -- that we were working on another project, this time a book on Eric Lang. Of course, Vicki would not be one to doubt such nonsense. However, I do not believe the rest of the family will be so gullible.

Barnabas seems to have accepted her engagement to Jeff Clark too easily. Strange....I know he cares for her, but I do not view the same intensity, the overpowering conviction in his belief of his love for her. The same pattern of forlorness he carries for Josette’s memory and their love is not there. Maybe I am being optimistic, but if Barnabas truly wanted her, I cannot see him stepping aside so graciously.

Oh....is it just my exhaustion speaking, clouding my perspective?  My own hope? No....there is more! And my heart is still pounding foolishly from his words. He found me resting in his chair, abashingly caught in a fragile moment of my own. When I rest my head against its textured wing, the fragrance of his hair tonic lingers in its weave. I feel his presence surround me as though my head rested upon his broad shoulder....memorizing his scent.

Honestly....I have to laugh at myself. Such foolishness to get carried away and caught at that! But when Barnabas looked down at me, hesitating before he spoke, the sudden silence had my pulse jumping. His soulful eyes captured mine. I could not look away in embarrassment as I have before. No....oddly enough, I found myself unable to turn away....afraid to miss what might have silently been spoken between us. The sincerity of his gratitude was written on his face....in his voice. No ploy....no gain to his words and smile other than the forge of a new trust....a new
beginning.

“But oh my dear.....Our love is here to stay Together we’re going a long, long way....”

I switched the radio on, listening to the music of Gershwin. The romance of his lyrics warm the chill of the basement lab....a song of faith enhancing my mood.

It has to be past midnight. I am totally exhausted, but my concern for Barnabas keeps me from leaving. Preferably I rather just stay the night here at the Old House, my legs too heavy with weariness to take me back to my own bed. But my absence has been noticed more of late by the family and, for appearance sake, I shall once again travel the wooded path to Collinwood. I wonder what the Collins family believes when I am gone for the entire night. Do they ever wonder if there is more between Barnabas and myself
than what there is?

Barnabas....my thoughts never seem to sway from him. I wish he and Willie did go out this evening for the loathsome chore they must do. I hope he took my words seriously -- to be careful. 

Oh, thank God! I hear them now. They must be.............
(episode 565)

My strength is weak....drained of my energy. What I had offered to Barnabas so willingly once before, I have viscously received.  Yet it is not Barnabas’ spell I am under, but another’s. One whose eyes do not speak of concern....that are not flooded with guilt....only unending hunger for what I supply him.

My mind is too busy with what has happened last night. I shudder at the thought of his face. His eyes fixed on his prey. Eyes filled with such hunger in them. I jumped up and began to run, but he caught me, grabbing my arm. Hunted....by a ruthless predator. A scream rose in my throat. My body tensed, refusing to yield to him, until....until....my willpower was slowly drained....my resolve totally submissive as I held back the cry of pain. Everything changed in an instant. I am now his victim.

Now I find myself dazed, helpless to save myself. He will beckon me once again tonight and I must go to him. My independent will is valueless....powerless. Cold....I feel so cold. I need to sleep....to burrow myself under the warmth of the blankets like a small animal seeking refuge.

I had Willie promise me not to tell Barnabas he found me lying unconscious on the floor. But, relying on his instinct and his aroused suspicions, the truth has emerged. I tried desperately to keep it from Barnabas, yet he persisted....his fear refusing to overlook the facts before him. I could never lie to him, except by omission. 

Has he so easily forgotten the obedience of loyalty and protection that functions in a victim? Barnabas flooded me with questions and speculations about HIS whereabouts, insisting for the answers I desperately wanted to give him, but couldn’t. 

Through his urgent plea, I am staying at the Old House....his sense of duty to protect me. For once in my life I must depend on another. But I fear I won’t be safe no matter where I am. Now I am only placing Barnabas in danger. 

Adam is making demands once more and no excuse for our delay will he accept. His unreasonableness is unconquering. I stepped back from the confrontation....too tired and drained....allowing Barnabas to handle him. 

Four weeks -- the time limit Adam has allotted. A sudden, terrible silence followed after he left. Barnabas’ mouth went crooked, his face carved with lines of despair....of approaching defeat. My weakness infuriates me. I have let him down....failed him. He sat down, his shoulders drooping, as I walked over and laid a comforting hand of understanding on his shoulder -- a gesture of support and unity....another bond between us.
(episodes 566/567)

Another night has passed. The candles scattered throughout the room have burned down to various lengths as I watched them....minute by minute. I could not sleep. My eyes....my mind cannot focus on my work. My darkening thoughts are only of HIM -- of his disturbing eyes overpowering me. Eyes reflecting mania. I am drawn to him in a dark, uncontrollable allegiance, submitting to his needs, and yet afraid of what might happen.

I had envied Carolyn when she was what I am now. Jealous of the bond between Barnabas and herself. Jealous of what I wanted to share with him -- the sense of excitement....the sensuality of giving myself to Barnabas willingly. But for me now, it is not a desired condition. A part of me is ashamed that my strength I have relied on in myself cannot resist. Barnabas had been right when he told me what I would be giving up that long ago night when he refused me. I have lost what I prided myself on -- my fierce independence and strong will....a will of my own. I can no longer think...act...feel for myself.

I sit now at Josette’s vanity table, objects of beauty elegantly around me. Yet, when I look into the mirror I see only the reflection of death....my hand shaking as I lift it to my throat, to my vulnerable flesh. My color is pallid. My eyes are underlined  with shadows darkening each time my blood is taken in a silent  scream of protest. 

The pen is so much heavier now..... 

Dear God, help me....Barnabas, HELP ME!

Barnabas has been my strength. His restraining arms pull me against his body, holding me when my resistance is weak -- when the inner storm is losing its battle. I am embarrassed that he must see me this way...vulnerable...out of control.

His worried eyes never leave me, his voice comforting, telling me not to be frightened. The frequent touches from his concern soothe my raw nerves. A tenderness is shown we have never shared before....an understanding softness revealing of himself, of the man before his curse.

I hear my name echoing in my head. HE is calling me. No! I want to be with Barnabas. Yes....yes, stay with Barnabas. But he is calling me and I must go! I can no longer resist......
(episode 568)

The cold floor was beneath me, the walls surrounding, walls containing only what remains after death. But I felt strong arms -- warm arms -- lift me from the coldness, carry me away from certain death.

Darkness dropped over me, the abstract haze one teeters on....the precious edge dividing life between death. It is a world distinct of its own, caught between the two....dimly aware of the conscious world continuing around you, yet so close to the unknown -- surrendering to the inevitable. But in a split instant, a blinding flash of light ignited my strength....one thin thread of hope. “Stay with me, Julia!” His shield had dropped down in his panicked moment, pulling me closer, giving me a promise....giving me faith in him that my life could rest trustingly in Barnabas’ hands forever. His pleading words swarmed through me....strong enough to give me hope!
(episodes 569/570)