David is now in a wheelchair, compliments of a strange bicycle mishap in town. It’s been quite awhile since I’d set a broken leg, but all went well--the break was clean, and David turned out to be a surprisingly good patient.  I only wish the circumstances surrounding his misadventure were as uncomplicated as his injury. My suspicions kicked into high gear later that day when Maggie unexpectedly found Jeb Hawkes in David’s room.  Once again I experienced an instinctive repulsion at the sight of that brash young man.  My gut instinct told me to stay clear of him, and given the circumstances, I was more than willing to do so.  That is, until he brazenly shook my hand and I saw it--that same crescent shaped mark I’d seen on all of the Todd’s “children”.  It was there, plain as day, on his wrist.   I’m sure he knew I saw it, but he made no attempt to conceal it, either out of carelessness or pure arrogance.  I opt for the latter.

Poor detective or not, I knew what had to be done to obtain the proof I needed.  And as unpleasant a task as it was, it proved to be well worth the effort.  With Quentin as my reluctant accomplice, we dug up Michael Hackett’s grave, and (not surprisingly) found it empty.  I needed no further proof that Alexander, Michael, and now this Jabez or Jeb Hawkes, or whatever he calls himself are one and the same. 

When I confronted Barnabas with how much I knew, he feigned disinterest, and predictably attempted to dismiss me.   But this time his eyes betrayed him.  Those same eyes that such a short time ago been so cold and callous, held malice no longer.  The coldness and indifference was gone, replaced with something else—worry, concern, and something else I wasn't able to read.  Barnabas seemed to be faltering, so I pressed on, knowing I was risking another derisive rebuke.  But my gamble paid off, as Barnabas reluctantly, and with overt resignation, agreed to tell me the whole story. 

Suggesting we return to the Old House, Barnabas offered his arm to me as we walked silently along that familiar path.  I, as usual, had a thousand questions, but with great effort kept them to myself, not wanting to jeopardize the tenuous truce we had so recently forged.  To feel the warmth of his touch again set my heart and mind racing down a path better left untaken, but I allowed myself the luxury of venturing there nonetheless, if only for those few precious minutes.

How ironic, yet how typical of our relationship.  Circumstances being different, the setting could have been described as intimate—even romantic.   There we were, just Barnabas and I, face to face in front of a crackling fire, surrounded by candlelight and each other’s company.  We looked at each other the way we use to, without pretense or animosity for the first time since his mysterious return to the present time.  As Barnabas began to speak, those hypnotic eyes of his seemed to bore straight through my own, and I feared what he might see there—that which has remained unspoken between us, that which I strive to conceal for his sake as well as my own.  I find it much harder now—now that I can no longer hide behind the veil of animosity that has obscured him from me for so long.  Once again, I must swallow those emotions, for what Barnabas needs now, and what I will be once again, is his friend and ally.  And as his strange tale unfolded, I realized just how desperately he needed my help.

As he recounted his last days in 1897, I was surprised to learn that he believed Quentin’s portrait had been destroyed.  When I informed him that I now had possession of the painting, his reaction was one of shock, but also great relief. It was then I realized that his concern for both Quentin and Chris had never been lost, only masked under the weight of the Leviathan influence.  He was even more shocked when I told him about Angelique, though I did my best to reassure him that she did not pose a present threat.  I could tell he did not quite believe that, and quite frankly I’m not sure I do either. 

I forced myself to listen as dispassionately as I could as he talked about Kitty Hampshire.   Barnabas had predictably fallen in love with Kitty, and I couldn’t help but note the irony as he described her “obsession” with the spirit of Josette.    That aside, the strange circumstances of their journey back to 1797 (through Josette’s portrait—how??) provided him with the means to prevent the one event he regretted more than any other in his long life--Josette's suicide at Widow's Hill. 

Talk about mixed emotions!  On one hand I shared in Barnabas’ joy and relief at altering this tragic event, for I am all too aware of how unmercifully her death has haunted him.  And in the very next moment I felt a knot tightening in the pit of my stomach—knowing that had the events immediately following not occurred, he would have stayed there with her, and been lost to me forever.

But as fate would have it, Barnabas' kidnapping and subsequent drugging (brainwashing might be a better term) by the Leviathan beings once again ended any hope of a happy ending with Josette.  These Leviathans are an ancient race, insidiously cunning and evil.  I’ve never heard of them, but wonder if Eliot has.   Selected apparently because of his ability to transcend time, the Leviathans used Barnabas to transport the life essence of their leader to the present time. That sound--the breathing--that I had heard coming from that mysterious wooden box, was that of the Leviathan leader, waiting to assume human form.  I felt a bit queasy knowing how close I’d come to opening that box.

While the Leviathans had the power to indoctrinate humans to aid them in their cause, I was surprised to learn that some people are immune to their influence.  I, apparently, fell into that category.   I was appalled, but not terribly surprised to learn that David, Amy, and Elizabeth had been so influenced.  It certainly explains their odd behavior as of late better than my tainted drinking water theory.  

I felt an overwhelming sense of dread as Barnabas told me that he had little to no influence over the Leviathan being in it’s present and final incarnation, Jeb Hawkes.  Jeb had decided to follow his own path, ignoring many of the Leviathan teachings.  I don’t understand why, but killing is apparently one of the acts forbidden by the Leviathans.  Unfortunately, that is one of the “rules” that Jeb has chosen to ignore.  In his natural form, Jeb has killed twice--Paul Stoddard and Sheriff Davenport.  Barnabas fears they may not be his last victims, and unfortunately, I concur.

I discovered that the threat the Leviathans hold over Barnabas is two fold.  First, he has been warned of reprisals against Josette, as the Leviathans apparently hold her hostage.  Their other threat is perhaps even more sinister—the reinstatement of his vampire curse.

I was quite taken aback when Barnabas revealed that he had defied their orders—once— when he was ordered to kill me.  When he refused, he was turned into a vampire for one terrifying night, as a reminder of the consequences of disobedience.  To know that he risked the reinstatement of his curse, and even his dear Josette’s life for my sake, is both flattering and disconcerting.  Apparently, beneath the cold exterior he has maintained under the Leviathan influence, his feelings for me (whatever they are) have not changed.  It is difficult not to read more into his actions, but once again I must resist the temptation to do so.  The situation is too grave.

Barnabas is deeply concerned for Carolyn, for the ultimate goal of the Leviathans is to recreate their race through a union between Jeb and Carolyn.  This, as the result of an illbegotten and impulsive bargain made by Paul Stoddard twenty years ago.  It finally all made sense.  Paul had come back to try to stop them from taking Carolyn into their realm.  He had failed, and had paid for it with his life.  I deeply regret not working harder to gain his trust before it was too late.

I find myself in agreement with Barnabas that while the rest of us are in danger, Carolyn is facing the most immediate peril, and our efforts should center around her.  Jeb is determined to marry her and transform her into true Leviathan form, which he can accomplish in his room at the antique shop.   Barnabas is at a loss as to how to stop it, and at the moment, so am I. 

Barnabas looks utterly drained, but relieved, as he unburdened himself this evening.  His past actions explained, there is no need for apologies, nor time for futile regrets.  My joy at recapturing the closeness we once shared is tempered by the stark reality of the terrible circumstances that have brought us back together.   I am terrified by the prospect of what may happen to Carolyn should we fail to stop Jeb Hawkes.  But I must put that fear aside and focus on Barnabas, for he needs my help now more than he ever has, and I will not let him down.  I must have faith that together we somehow can find a way out of this, but heaven help me, I can't see it now.  I fear I will not sleep much tonight…

Although I am relieved that Quentin is willing to help us, the three of us have thus far complied a rather unspectacular track record.  Barnabas’ plan to poison Jeb has failed, and we were outsmarted before we had a chance to implement our alternate plan to spirit Carolyn away from Collinwood.  Jeb has managed to stay one step ahead of us, and he thoroughly enjoys flaunting his advantage, especially to Barnabas.   

Had Quentin not acted on his own and surprised Jeb at the antique shop, Carolyn’s fate might have been sealed.  Quentin was able to overpower Jeb and bring the unconscious Carolyn back to Collinwood.  She recovered from the drug she had been given, but remembered nothing of the incident. Thankfully, she is safe for the moment—Barnabas has brought her and Elizabeth to Angelique’s house on Little Windward Island.  I don’t for the life of me know how he convinced her to let them stay.   I question the wisdom of trusting Angelique, but believe we have no choice. 

The whole Maggie Evans affair is puzzling.  One moment she is missing, the subject of a massive search, and Barnabas is half out of his mind with worry.  Then, in a strange turn of events, a previously overlooked note explaining her whereabouts is found.  No sooner had Barnabas read it than Maggie walked through the front door.  She corroborated the contents of the note, but seemed quite anxious to talk to Barnabas about a “personal matter.”  Her manner, while odd, did not alarm me as it did Barnabas, who refused to believe that all was as it appeared.

Despite Barnabas’ concerns, Maggie was safe for the moment, so I turned my attention to a more immediate concern—Chris Jennings.    Barnabas tried unsuccessfully to convince him to go to Wyndcliffe, and my own efforts were just as fruitless.  I discovered that Sabrina Stuart had given him one of the mysterious Moon Poppie flowers, and he was determined to go through the next transformation without any precautions, pinning his hopes on the legendary properties of the flower.

When I returned to Collinwood to tell Barnabas of my failure with Chris, I interrupted a rather intense conversation between him and Maggie.  I quickly learned the purpose of the conversation, as Barnabas informed me that we had a new ally in our fight against the Leviathans—Maggie.  He explained to me later that Jeb apparently believed she was now under Leviathan control, although their attempt to convert her failed, as it did with me.  Barnabas was quick to say that we need to protect her and I quite agree, but suspect that his motives go beyond concern for her involvement in this conspiracy.  I recognize that look in his eyes, the tone of his voice—and after all this time I certainly know what it means.  I must prepare myself for this yet again. . .

I swear I’m beginning to think like a Collins.  I barely batted an eye when Barnabas announced we were to hold a séance to contact the spirit of Josette—to determine whether the Leviathans truly hold her captive.  Having engineered a reconciliation of sorts with Jeb, Barnabas believes he is no longer under suspicion.  He feels the time to move against the Leviathans is at hand, yet fears reprisals against Josette.  He is torn between concern for her safety and the threat to those in the present time.  Hence the séance.  Maggie joined the two of us in the drawing room as Barnabas summoned the spirit of Josette.  It didn’t take too long for Josette to speak through Maggie—I have to admit it was eerie hearing her voice emanate from one who so strongly resembles her.  I think the experience unnerved Barnabas as well.

In a heartbreaking turn of events, Barnabas found that he once again had been the cause of Josette’s death.   She had apparently taken poison when he failed to meet her the night the Leviathans kidnapped him.  But she emphatically repeated more than once that she had no knowledge of the Leviathans.  Apparently their threat against her was an empty one.  When Barnabas did not believe her words, she told him they mustn’t go on hurting each other, that she must set him free.  Barnabas was devastated. I could see it in his face, feel it in the slight trembling in his hands as our fingers touched in the circle.  Before her spirit departed, Josette summoned Barnabas to her grave, promising to provide him with proof of her sincerity.  I desperately wanted to go with him, but know he must do this alone.  I only hope he has the strength to face it, to finally let her go…

My worst fears have been realized.   To be honest, I suppose I should have been prepared for the eventuality of it, but I prayed—how I prayed—it would not come to this.  But the moment I saw Quentin’s face when he returned to the Old House—alone—I knew that it had.   The fact that Barnabas was missing could only mean one thing—the Leviathans had made good on their threat to reinstate his curse.  I nearly panicked, knowing all too well the anguish Barnabas must be feeling at that moment.   Feeling powerless to ease his suffering, I broke down.  But for once I was glad I was not alone.  Quentin, like Willie, understands; and I readily accepted his comfort, knowing there would be no embarrassing questions, no need for explanations.

The events of that night seem almost surreal.  The long, exhaustive search in the woods, Barnabas’ unexpected presence at the Blue Whale, and worst of all, the sight of that girl’s lifeless body on the floor of the Old House.  She was dead, from strangulation it first appeared.  But as I examined her body more closely, I saw what I had feared…the telltale puncture wounds on her throat. 

His rage and desperation barely controlled, Barnabas confirmed what I already knew.  He rejected my offer to begin his injections immediately, the abruptness in his manner a contrast to the closeness we had shared such a short time ago.  He apparently had something to do, some unfinished business to attend to, the nature of which he did not disclose.  I feared for him as he left, knowing how vulnerable he now was, and how little regard he held for his personal safety.  Quentin and I must now protect and guard him, and I must begin the injections as soon as possible.   I had the feeling that an all out war had begun this night, and only hope we are strong enough to fight it.

I was amazed that Barnabas returned unscathed once I learned what his “unfinished business” was.   He’d set the antique shop on fire in an attempt to destroy Jeb’s room.  He had apparently been successful in that, and possibly in destroying Jeb himself.   But neither one of us are truly convinced that simple fire could destroy such a powerful creature.  The sorrow in his voice was tangible as Barnabas told me that every inhuman creature had one vulnerability, referring to himself as well as the evil Leviathan.   His gentle sincerity nearly overwhelmed me when I offered him my help, that I was forced to hold back the tears that sprang to my eyes.  He told me tenderly what a good friend I was, then something else—something that I still don’t know how to take.  Barnabas said that he had a personal score to settle with the Leviathans, for the way they’d made him harm me.  I didn’t know how to respond to that.   I do not want him to place himself in further danger for my sake…all is forgiven between us.  It makes me wonder, though, in that unguarded moment of gratitude and sincerity, whether Barnabas revealed more than he intended to, or whether I have once again let my emotions get the better of my good sense.

We didn’t have to wait very long to discover Jeb Hawkes’ fate.  He appeared unexpectedly at the Old House, bragging of his victory to Barnabas, baiting him, taunting him.  The sight of him caught me off guard and frightened me.  This whole affair has drained me, weakening my usual solid control—for after he left, I could not disguise my anger, my frustration, my fear.  Barnabas spoke to me with quiet reassurance, displaying a rare moment of undisguised concern for my welfare.   And he is right, this whole thing has been too much for me.  My nerves are frayed and I am in badly in need of rest.  But it is irrelevant, for Barnabas needs me—I will not leave him alone and unprotected. We need to get Willie back, but until we do, I will guard Barnabas during the day. 

I don’t know exactly what I would have done had Jeb Hawkes come looking for Barnabas today, but thankfully he didn’t.  I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right time, to somehow use it to his best advantage.  But, for the moment, I’m just grateful he didn’t come today.    Knowing it was almost dusk, I allowed myself to doze in Barnabas’ chair, breathing in the scent of his cologne, allowing my thoughts to wander.

I was a bit startled--nearly jumped out of the chair, actually--as I heard Barnabas open the heavy cellar door.  I felt myself blush a bit both from the warmth of his greeting and the nature of the dream I'd abruptly left.  Once again, I tried to prevent him from going out, both for the want of his company and the present danger to himself.  He was not angry at my somewhat impulsive request, and told me not to be frightened.  Once again, there was something he had to do . . . I must trust that he will no longer shut me out, and will return again to me when he is able.

 (Episodes 937 – 952)