November 1968 - Page 14

Another sleepless night, another night spent worrying. Worrying about Joe, and about his attacker; waiting for something to happen, to appear out of the night, to come after him as he lies in his sickbed in the Old House. We know now that the danger didn't die with Tom Jennings. It was foolish, I suppose, to believe it had--wishful thinking. Yet it had been a while--it wasn't hard to accept the possibility that we were safe again. But it's clear now that either Tom had another victim we didn't know about, or that the vampire who attacked Tom is still at large. I believe it's the latter. 

But it isn't only Joe and the vampire that worry me. It's also Barnabas. It seems I'm never to be free of worrying about him--it's become an avocation. I wish I could convince myself that my fears are just a carryover of the terrifying dream I had, but I know that isn't it. The fact is that he has been different since he came back from Blair's house that night. I knew it then, and I'm even more sure of it now. He keeps insisting there's nothing wrong, but I know better. I know him far too well. Doesn't he realize that by now? I sense him evading my eyes just as he's evading my questions, and I know there's something he doesn't want me to see in his face.  

We are both exhausted tonight, I know that, but that doesn't explain his actions. Why he insisted that I get some rest, then left the house, leaving Joe alone and unprotected for more than an hour. Why, when he returned, he didn't seem to know how to answer my questions; he didn't even know how long he had been gone. His explanation made no sense; I could tell he was lying, fabricating a story even as we talked. I do know him too well; I know that he's a much better liar than that. The story he told me didn't come out of deliberate deceit; it came out of fear. Fear that I would discover something he was trying to hide. But what?  

I'm beginning to be afraid of the answer to that question. Because if I hadn't walked into Joe's room at the moment I did, Joe would be dead now. 

In spite of his protestations of being tired, Barnabas insisted on going up to check on Joe. I told him it wasn't necessary, but he met all of my objections with his own: He wanted to see for himself. He would give Joe his medicine. Medicine that he wasn't scheduled to take until morning. There was no reason for him to see Joe, but he was determined to do it. His persistence bothered me so much that I followed him upstairs. And found him about to give Joe the medication I had just told him not to give him. Again his explanations were uncharacteristically weak, but we were both too tired to pursue an argument then. I took the medication and left, but it still nagged at my mind, the irrationality of his behavior; one of the things I know about Barnabas is that he always has a reason for what he does, whether he will admit to it or not. 

What I discovered made my blood freeze. Was this his reason for insisting on seeing Joe again, and alone? For trying to force the medicine down his throat? I don't know what instinct made me want to examine the medication, but I did. What was in that bottle would have killed Joe. Could Barnabas have known that? I don't want to believe that, but I don't know what else to believe. 

When I confronted him, of course he claimed innocence. He reminded me that I had been sleeping while he was out, that someone else could have come in during that time and left the poison on Joe's table. It's true that I did think I heard something when I woke up, something that sounded like a door closing. It is possible that someone could have come in and done this--who or why is something I can't begin to try to figure out now. And Barnabas was the one who saved Joe's life--if for some unimaginable reason he wanted Joe dead, he wouldn't have brought him here, to me. Those arguments did seem logical, and I relented. Before I left to come back to Collinwood, I reassured him that I didn't really believe he'd tried to kill Joe. 

It's so easy to deceive yourself when you really want to. I had almost succeeded in convincing myself that Barnabas was telling me the truth--that he really had left Joe to investigate something outside and stayed out longer than he'd realized; that he was just terribly exhausted; that he knew nothing about what was in the bottle. When I left him I felt better; it was morning, the danger of the night was past; he would have a chance to get some sleep and recover himself. We would deal with our problems later, when we were both more refreshed. Then I came into the house.

Barnabas wasn't walking in the woods searching for signs of the vampire. He had collapsed in the woods. Harry Johnson found him--God knows what Harry was doing out there in the middle of the night--lying on the ground, unconscious. He brought him to Collinwood, to his mother. When he awoke, Mrs. Johnson said, he refused to allow her to get help. He couldn't explain what had happened to him, just said he'd felt "dizzy." He told her he would ask me to examine him and refused to let Harry walk him back to the Old House.

Of course he didn't ask me to examine him. He said nothing at all to me, in spite of my questions. I know Mrs. Johnson could see how stunned I was by what she told me. She could see I didn't know anything about it. So it was my turn to make up an unconvincing lie. I pretended I had examined him, that I was just confused because it had been a difficult night. A difficult night "caring for him," she asked me. Oh, yes. She doesn't know the half of it. Caring for that man is the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. 

Again the mysteries and the danger only seem to be growing deeper. Who is responsible for Joe's condition? What has happened--is happening--to Barnabas? And the question I don't want to ask--is there any connection?  (Episodes 612-613)

My question has been answered--and the answer is the one I secretly
most feared. One that breaks my heart.

Barnabas has been attacked by the vampire.

I hardly know how to write about what happened today; I'm terrified and heartsick. It seems as if he is never going to be allowed to be truly free of his curse, never be allowed to live a normal life; somehow it seems to be his destiny to be victimized in one way or another. And I don't know how--or if--I can help him now. 

I very nearly lost him last night. Somehow Joe Haskell found the strength to get out of his sickbed, and in a blind fury attacked Barnabas--tried to strangle him. If Mrs. Johnson hadn't walked into the Old House just then, I don't want to imagine what would have happened. (Strange that Mrs. Johnson and her son have been the ones who've been there when he needed help in the past few days; we never know where our blessings are going to come from. I'm so grateful for them both.) 

When I came downstairs this morning I overheard the sheriff questioning her in the drawing room about Joe; I heard her telling him everything she had seen at the Old House; I was shocked and frightened until she reassured me Barnabas was all right. She had tried to fight Joe off and he finally gave up and ran away. All I wanted to do at that moment was go down to the Old House, to him, but the sheriff stopped me. He asked me several questions about Joe--if he had any reason to believe Barnabas wanted to kill him. Apparently that was what he had said to Mrs. Johnson and to Roger and Elizabeth after they found him at the cemetery. Of course I didn't know--then--why Joe would think such a thing. The sheriff knew about the poisoned medicine; I couldn't deny that, but I told him that there were any number of people who had had access to Joe's room. I knew that he suspected Barnabas--as I had last night--but I pointed out that Joe is in a disturbed mental state, that he isn't rational. The sheriff accepted that fact, but said he believed Joe had been driven to irrationality by someone, and he would find out who it was. He warned me to tell Barnabas that he would be wanting to question him later, then he finally told me I could go. 

When I got there, Barnabas again denied knowing anything about the poisoned medicine, and he refused to let me examine him. I should have realized it right then--I saw the ascot he was wearing, not his usual style of dress. When a new habit includes suddenly wearing neck covering, I know only too well what it can mean. But I suppose I didn't want to notice it. I should have known too when we argued about his concern that the vampire would be exposed. I even accused him of "protecting" the vampire--which he of course denied. I must have realized the truth then, but I was practicing my own form of denial.

This incident only confirms what I had suspected earlier, that the vampire is a woman. I'm sure the sheriff also believes that a woman is the cause of this incident, although in a different way. But the motivation is the same. Only an enraging sexual jealousy, on top of the overwhelming physical need for the vampire, could have prompted Joe's assault on Barnabas. He reacted like a spurned lover trying to destroy his rival. But who is she? Could the rest of my hunch be correct, too--could it be Cassandra/Angelique, returned by Nicholas Blair as a vampire for some reason? Of course Barnabas would be the one she would go after--as long as she exists, in any form, she will never give up trying to possess him--or destroy him--and those amount to the same thing.

I could be wrong, of course. But when I think back on it, it's the only answer that seems to fit. This all began--his strange behavior--on the night he went to Nicholas Blair's house. That terrible dream I had the night before, that still haunts me, the image of him lying in the woods, dying, calling to me; his being gone so long that night; the way he acted when he returned and has been acting since then. It can only be that he was attacked that night, and if he was attacked at or near Blair's house--then it all seems to come together.

I can't possibly solve this now; I can't think clearly in the state I'm in. I'm only occupying my mind with speculation because it's so unbearable to think about the rest of what happened tonight; how I discovered the wound on his neck; how Willie and I had to lock him up in the basement cell; how he pleaded with us--oh dear God, he pleaded with me--and I couldn't--

No. I have to go back, start this over, put down everything in logical sequence. It's the only way to understand, to sort things out, to try to keep from despairing. 

As I was returning from the hospital to the Old House, I met Sheriff Patterson leaving. I was already nervous because of the incessant howling of the dogs, and when I mentioned that to him, he said something that cut into me--that Barnabas had seemed upset by the sound, that he had been distracted, had gone to the window and stared out, seemed not to hear anything the sheriff had said and was talking to himself--seemed to be "completely changed," the sheriff said, as if the howling had done something to him....

I found him slumped in his chair, weak and exhausted. When I called to him, asked him what was wrong, he told me to stay away from him, that it was "nothing I could do anything about." Then he passed out. I touched his shoulder and saw them. The marks of the vampire. I could feel my heart stop.

I knew the only thing we could do was to keep him locked up and make sure he couldn't get away. Willie and I managed to carry him downstairs, to the cell--the cell! To make him a prisoner, just like Adam once was. It was the only way. 

Of course it was the only way, and yet--I don't think I'll ever forget the way he looked at us--at me--with the empty look of betrayal in his eyes. He was in such agony, begging us to let him go, to get to her, saying he didn't want any help, didn't need any friends. I know, I remember so well, what it felt like, what he's going through. But he helped me when I needed it; he wouldn't allow me to deny him. He protected me from Tom and saved me. I couldn't do any less for him, no matter how it hurt to see the desperation in his eyes, no matter how hard it was to lock him up like that.

But it wasn't enough. I was only upstairs a short while. Maggie came to the door with Nicholas Blair, of all people, asking about Barnabas. She was very upset over Joe's attack on him and insisted on seeing him. I don't know why she was so adamant about it; maybe she felt guilty or somehow responsible for Joe's behavior, which was ridiculous, of course, but people do feel that way sometimes when someone close to them does something unexpected and destructive. Blair kept trying to persuade her to leave--unexpected in itself; I couldn't help suspecting it was he rather than Maggie who was most interested in what had happened to Barnabas. I was finally able to convince her that he was fine, and they left. But when I got back downstairs, I found Willie unconscious on the floor, and Barnabas was gone.

I don't know what to do now. I don't know how he got out, but it doesn't matter. He did, and that means he has gone to her. But where? And where is he now--and in what condition? Willie and I searched the woods for hours and found no trace of him. By the time I got back here I was so exhausted and dispirited that I could only collapse in the drawing room. I told Roger, and later Vicki--by that time it was morning, I hadn't been to bed yet--about his disappearance. For once I didn't try to hide my feelings, and I'm sure I revealed more than I meant to, but I didn't care; what does it matter now? What difference will it make--if I never see him again?

If I never see him again...if she leaves him lying in the woods to die as she did Joe, or worse...if I'm right and it is Angelique, then surely she intends to make him into a vampire again and probably take him with her forever...last night he told me I was "thinking too much" about him. As if I could do anything else. But I'm thinking of myself now, too, and I can't seem to help that, either. There has been so much unsaid between us. So many times I've nearly lost him, and each time I've regretted what I never had the courage to say to him. But the fear always becomes stronger than the regret--fear of losing the friendship we've finally established at so much cost. And so it remains unsaid--and each time something takes him away from me, threatens to destroy him, I have to face the bleak prospect not only of my life without him, but of knowing that I never shared the most important part of my heart with him...and I don't know how I can live with that. I can only pray--again--that I don't have to.... (Episodes 615-618)

I know the truth now, know that I was right. But learning it wasn't easy--I had to come face to face with that...man again. Nicholas Blair--I was sure that this was somehow all his doing, for some sinister purpose; I let him know clearly that I know, and yet he continues to insist on playing this game of innocence with me. Even while he is protecting Angelique and allowing her to continue to attack Barnabas. 

I thought I had managed to gain some advantage over him after our-- "talk". At least I had the element of surprise on my side when I went to his house after seeing Joe at the hospital. I'm sure he hadn't expected me to make the first attack. He played it so smoothly at first, the gracious, civilized host, inviting me in, thanking me for my company at the dinner party. He met each of my thrusts with a graceful parry--for a while. It was only when I confronted him about Barnabas being attacked that he began to slip a little, to show that he was disturbed. It was curious that he should have been affected by that; surely, if he controls the vampire as I believe he does--whether or not it is Angelique-- he must be aware of what she's doing. But perhaps he doesn't know everything. From the way his demeanor changed, from the way he quickly tried to dismiss me, I had the feeling that my visit had been a sort of revelation to him--as it was to me.

Because I didn't leave when I went out of the house. I had the feeling he was planning to do something, and that if I waited I might find out what it was. I stayed, hiding in the woods for what seemed like a long time, until I began to think my wait would be futile. Then I saw the door open and Blair come out. I didn't know if he might be going to the vampire--or if she might be still in the house. Or if Barnabas might be. I had almost decided to try to get in and search the house when I saw someone else come out.

It was her. Angelique.

She passed so close to me; I couldn't mistake her; and yet, even though I'd half expected it, I was shocked. I saw her, not as Cassandra now, but as she was in the portrait, as she must have been when Barnabas first knew her--when he innocently married her. I felt enveloped by cold as she passed by without seeing me. Her evil incarnated again in a different form--one perhaps more dangerous to Barnabas than she had been before, because now she can enslave him in a different way, she can possess him as she's always wanted to, and he is helpless to resist her, just as I was against Tom. Now I know that she means to return his curse to him and to take him with her forever. Am I too late to stop her?

There may be one possible hope. I was able to get into the house, to look for Barnabas--and I found Adam. I found him looking sick and weak, although he claimed to be all right. He warned me away, but I reminded him of his connection to Barnabas. I pleaded with him to tell me where Barnabas was, but he wouldn't--or couldn't--give me an answer, he only insisted that he wasn't in the house. Then he pleaded with me to find Barnabas, to help them both--and warned me to stay away from the house. I think he was sincere--I'm sure he doesn't want to die--and I know Blair doesn't want him to die, either. Could Adam be the key to saving Barnabas? If Blair is really ignorant of what Angelique's doing--if he realizes Adam will die if Barnabas does--then he must stop her. If he can do so in time.

I came so close to finding him tonight. He was actually at Collinwood. Vicki had found him in the woods and taken him, at his insistence, to a room in the West Wing. He was in terrible shape, she said, but he refused to let her call me--to call any doctor--insisting that no one could help him except Vicki. He told her he was sure he was dying; he kept slipping in and out of consciousness, saying things she couldn't understand. And all he asked was that she get him a cross. I think she knew that I understood what she couldn't, and she didn't question me anymore then. But we were too late. By the time we got to the room he was gone. She must have found some way to subvert the power of the cross, to make him go to her again. Vicki wanted to call everyone together to search for him. I had to dissuade her, reminding her that he hadn't wanted anyone to know. She agreed, although reluctantly, I'm sure only because she respects him enough to comply with his wishes. 

And so another night goes by--a night in which we again failed to find him--and as I sit here and watch the dawn creep in, it's all I can do not to think that it might have been the last night he will ever see as a man. (Episodes 619-620)

It's all over now, and he is safe, thank God. I'm sitting with him now at Windcliff as I write this. He's had a transfusion and he's sleeping; he was so terribly weak; but he's alive. I'm so relieved and happy that that fact is all I want to think about. But when I began this journal, I promised myself that I would make it as complete and honest as possible. Writing it has helped me to endure and live through the painful times; when the painful times pass I have to remind myself that it's important to me to have all the memories on record, no matter how hard it is to go back and relive some of them. So I'll keep my own vow and write down everything that happened today.

I watched the dawn break at the Old House, as I've already written. When Willie came in I told him everything--about Vicki finding him, about his getting away, about Angelique. He hadn't known that part of Barnabas' history. We went out together to start the search again, only to meet with the same futility.

I kept thinking about Blair, wondering if my intuitions yesterday had been correct. If he really wasn't aware of what Angelique was doing, if he realized that she was putting Adam's life in danger--whatever the man might be, he isn't a fool. I believe he's invested everything in the success of his scheme, and I was sure he wouldn't let Angelique ruin his plans for her own desires. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I had to risk going to him again. It's often been said that necessity makes strange allies; surely there couldn't be any stranger than he and I, but it was the last hope I had. I was also sure that Angelique's coffin must be at his house. I knew there was only one thing I could do. I stocked my medical bag with what I thought I'd need: blood plasma--and a stake and hammer.

He greeted me this time without any pretense of cordiality. He was obviously preoccupied, and I knew why. I told him I'd come to save Adam, and he was forced to admit that Adam wasn't well, and to let me in. This time I found what I'd expected to see--Adam was lying on the couch, weak and struggling for breath. I thought I could finally be completely frank with Blair, but again he slipped into that infuriating game he thinks he can play with me. 

I wonder if he really underestimates me or if he finds it a challenge to pretend that he does so as to challenge me somehow; he is no ordinary adversary, at least not with me--there's something disquietingly personal in our exchanges, something almost bordering on seductiveness in his manner, as if he's determined to try to charm me even though he knows I know him for what he is. He is a formidable man; I might find him fascinating if I weren't so revulsed by him.

I let him know plainly that I understood exactly what was happening--to Adam and to Barnabas--and that there was only one way to stop it--not medically, but with much cruder tools--the stake and hammer. He managed to maintain his smooth demeanor, though, and I'm afraid I began to lose mine in my exasperation. I told him I would do all I could for Adam--and all I could do was give him some injections to help him breathe; but Blair knew as well as I what the only real cure was. If he was deliberately trying to bait me, he succeeded--he preempted the offensive and forced me to admit that he had won--temporarily. It nearly choked me to have to back off, but I didn't forget the reason I had gone back there. In spite of his show of bravado, he was still trapped in a corner. I left him with the hammer and stake and the injunction that a "wise man" would make use of them. 

Whether or not he did or will I don't know. When I walked into the Old House, I heard Willie's voice from the drawing room--and then Barnabas', weary and faint but unmistakably his. God bless Willie--he had found him and brought him back! I overheard Barnabas--in that familiar guilty tone of voice--asking Willie if I knew about Angelique. I was so happy to see him, to hear him speaking, that nothing else mattered except that he was there, back with us; I couldn't possibly berate him--how could I, knowing myself what he had gone through? I sent Willie to Collinwood to call Windcliff for an ambulance. Barnabas protested but hadn't the strength to fight or resist any longer. I told him what I think he needed and wanted to hear, that I would protect him, help him fight her, keep him alive and out of her reach.

And so here we are. I don't know how long he will have to be here. I don't know if Blair will do anything about Angelique. I don't know if the danger will still be there when Barnabas is released. I can't think about any of those things. For now I can only take one day at a time--and be thankful for it. (Episode 621)