I have cheated death once again.  That vile man - that Petofi- tried to poison me with a cyanide-laced cocktail today.  He told me straight out:  “I came to watch you die.”   I couldn’t help myself – my first reaction was to seek an antidote.  And then I waited for my throat to burn, for the terrible pains to wrack my body.  But there was nothing.  Just like with the bullet from Aristede’s cruel little contraption – no pain, no harm of any kind.  Petofi couldn’t get out of here fast enough once he learned that only my astral self exists in this time.  And despite the fact that I know he cannot kill me, I fear him.

Quentin had warned me earlier about Petofi.  He told me I was still in danger and that I should return to my own time.  But he doesn’t know what I know; he doesn’t know the truth about Barnabas or how Angelique is helping us.  And I don’t think he totally understands the danger he is in from Petofi.  Quentin is so used to getting through life on his looks and his charm – I don’t think he can quite accept that neither can save him this time.  Petofi is no ordinary enemy.  He is no ordinary anything.

It is easy to forget my first contact with Quentin Collins or I should say with the “ghost of Quentin Collins.”   The man himself is so different from the foreboding spirit that drove us out of Collinwood.  He certainly is handsome and very charming.  And I will always be grateful that he has been a friend to Barnabas.  It is difficult to understand how he became such a bitter and vengeful spirit.  I only hope we can prevent that from happening again.   (Episode 849)

Meatloaf of all things.  I miss Mrs. Johnson’s meatloaf.  Never in a thousand years did I think I would ever miss Mrs. Johnson’s cooking, but I do.  Or perhaps I just miss Mrs. Johnson…and Elizabeth and Carolyn...  Hell, I even miss stuffy old Roger.  I miss the Collinwood I knew, not to mention the world that I knew.  Barnabas manages to blend in so well having already had to adjust to a century alien to him, but I find it a struggle.  Women’s clothing is a nightmare to wear; I can’t wait to get back to my own comfortable dresses.  I hope that I don’t ever have to dress like this again!  And how I long to sink into Pepe’s chair and let her have her way with my hair.   I suppose I should be used to the lack of modern conveniences after all my time at the Old House, but stuck here alone so much makes me long for a radio or even an evening in front of the television catching an episode of  Gunsmoke.  God, I’d kill for a Twinkie.

The isolation is difficult, the days so long without Barnabas with me.  Every evening I watch anxiously for the sun to sink below the trees so that I can see him again.  He shows every sign that the cure is working.  I can only pray that our plan with Angelique continues to fool the right people, the right enemies.

I had an unexpected visitor today – Lady Kitty Hampshire – and her appearance here was quite unsettling.  She insisted that Barnabas is not dead!  I can’t imagine what possessed her to think this, but we can’t afford for anyone to discover our secret, not now.  And Lady Kitty’s vehemence even brought doubts to Quentin’s mind.  He accused me of remaining in 1897 because Barnabas still exists.  I had to convince him otherwise which was not easy.  Nor is it easy for me to continue with this charade of the grieving friend.  It requires so much emotional energy that it drains me – and reminds me of the times I thought I truly had lost Barnabas.  It is painful, and it does not help to realize that I may yet lose him in this time.

Angelique was here as well bringing me much needed supplies.  We have developed a curious relationship, Angelique and I, and I told her as much today.  Perhaps it is because we have been thrown together in a common cause in a time that neither of us belongs to – although Angelique, like Barnabas, navigates this century better than I do.  And neither of us has many friends here or many who know the truth about us.  Perhaps this is why we have found some common ground, why we have found a way to be “friends” of a sort – we know the truth about each other.

And there is, of course, our other common ground – our feelings for Barnabas.  We talked about that one late afternoon as we waited for him.  We’d each had a couple of sherries which I suppose loosened our tongues a bit – that and our fear, a bitter chaser to the sherry.

She told me a little bit about meeting Barnabas for the first time in Martinique.  Her version, of course, and I know from Barnabas that it differs substantially from his.  But it was intriguing to picture her description of the first time she laid eyes on the young heir, Barnabas Collins – darkly handsome, skin bronzed from the warm sun, his dark hair windswept from the tropical breezes.    A young man so full of life.   I could let myself be envious of what she once had with him… 

But despite our little “girl talk”, it remains difficult to be this close to her.  I cannot forget what she did to Barnabas, to his family, to his hopes and dreams.  Nor can I forget her tenure as Cassandra and that raven-haired witch’s reign of terror at Collinwood not so long ago.  But our relationship is a necessary evil – for Barnabas’ sake and for the Collins’ family, present and future.  We certainly make strange bedfellows.  And I shudder to think what would have happened to us if Angelique hadn’t had something to gain from helping us.

Angelique told me today that she had honestly loved Barnabas, and I am positive that she was sincere.   The problem lies in the fact that Angelique does not know what love truly is.  Love is not obsession with the object of your affections nor is it control over that person.  Her definition of love is warped and skewed; it is no wonder that Barnabas could not love her.

My feelings toward Angelique are so varied at this point – dependence, gratefulness, revulsion, fear.  I cannot afford to let myself trust her for she could turn on us in a moment if it suits her purposes.

How odd to realize that without her curse, I would never have known Barnabas… (Episode 853)

I fear that my time in 1897 is drawing to a close.   I have felt strangely all day, a feeling I have never before experienced.  I cannot even begin to describe it.  I have also heard strange sounds – like the wind wailing – and although Angelique stood beside me, she heard nothing.  And I heard a snippet of Eliot’s voice; I’m sure of it.

My theory is that the membrane of time between 1897 and 1969 is thinning for me.  I told Angelique that she must be prepared to continue with our plan if I am no longer here, and to my relief, she has agreed. Now I must pray that I can trust her, at least this time.

Eliot’s voice – I hear it again-

I am home.  My own time, my own century.  It was not my choice.  I wanted to stay in 1897, to be there to help Barnabas.  He is in such danger and to leave him behind breaks my heart.   I do not understand what happened – perhaps Eliot can explain it – but I was pulled back to my physical self.  It is possible, I suppose, that one’s astral self can only be separated from the physical body for certain period of time.   If I could turn around and go back to Barnabas, I would do it in a heartbeat, but that appears to be beyond the realm of possibility.

The sensation itself was akin to riding a roller coaster backwards.  For a moment, I feared that my eardrums would burst from the pressure.  And when I found myself back in my body, my head and stomach protested vigorously.  I’d rather re-take the medical boards than experience the sensations of time travel again.

The entry I was writing in 1897 was interrupted when I heard Eliot’s voice again, speaking to Roger.  It was then that Quentin came to see me – Quentin in Petofi’s body!  He told an astonishing story, but he managed to convince me. I tried to tell him about Barnabas, that he would be coming back soon and could help him, but I was pulled back to 1969 before I could explain.  Fortunately, I had picked up this journal to show it to Quentin to explain what had happened to Barnabas before I disappeared.

I am afraid for Quentin.  He is a tortured soul trapped in that maniac’s body.  Who will believe his incredible story?  Will Barnabas be in time to help him?  What will I do if Petofi appears here?  And when will Barnabas come back to me?  I have no answers, only questions, and all I can do is wait.  (Episode 858)