by Nancybe

Sarah Johnson sighed under her burden of fresh towels. She stopped in front of the occupied guestroom, trying to free a hand with which to knock. I wonder if this one is going to come to visit and still be around four years later like her sister, she muttered to herself wearily. I hope it isn’t a Hoffman family trait. Mrs. Johnson got on well enough with Julia Hoffman, but by and large, she was of the opinion that company was a lot like fish: After three days, it began to stink. And it didn’t help matters any that visitors meant more work for her.

Before she could knock, Mrs. Johnson became aware of the strange sounds emanating from behind the closed door. Leaning her ear closer, she tried in vain to make sense of the words she was hearing, but they sounded like gibberish to her. Some of them don’t even sound human, she thought with a shudder. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as a horrible smell suddenly assaulted her senses, and a moment later, her stomach roiled form the full effect of the odor. Sarah struggled to maintain her hold on the towels as the force of memory caused her body to shake in dread. These unidentifiable words, these unnatural sounds, that horrific smell – all she could think of was Mrs. Cassandra Collins and all the turmoil at Collinwood when that woman had been in residence here.

Mrs. Johnson’s imagination had just begun to take flight when the door was flung open in her face, and she staggered in an attempt to catch her balance. She looked up into the seething face of Joyce Hoffman who was furious at finding the housekeeper outside her door.

"What are you doing, you little sneak? Eavesdropping? What did you hear, old woman?" Joyce shrieked at her.

"Noth – nothing, Miss Hoffman. I was just bringing you some clean towels, is all," Sarah croaked. Joyce was poised above her like a snake ready to strike, and the housekeeper was tempted to drop her bundle and run.

"I don’t believe you," she spat into the older woman’s face. "I’ll teach you to spy on me!" She uttered a string of words that seemed to twist her tongue in a way that no human language ever could, and Sarah suddenly felt as though her throat and mouth had been doused with acid. They burned with liquid fire, and she found that her legs would no longer support her body. She fell to her knees in agony, her gnarled hands entwined around her throat.

"If you remember what you have heard and tell so much as a rat in the kitchen, this is what will happen to you, my dear Mrs. Johnson. Do you understand me?"

Sarah, her eyes bulging with pain, nodded her graying head with an effort. The inferno inside her abruptly vanished, and she regarded herself with astonishment. "What am I doing on the floor?" she asked Joyce whose eyes were watering from her attempt not to guffaw in the old woman’s face.

"You were trying to catch that cockroach that just scampered by, Mrs. Johnson," Joyce answered with a malevolent chuckle.

"I assure you, Miss Hoffman," Mrs. Johnson said in her haughtiest voice as she got to her feet, "there are no cockroaches at Collinwood."

Joyce glared at her and hissed, "Remember your lesson," before slamming the heavy door in her face.

"But your towels -," Mrs. Johnson called. Shrugging her shoulders, she gathered the scattered towels and headed down the hall. She had an overwhelming desire for a glass of water, and her head throbbed painfully. "I really need to find a new job," she muttered. "It sure has been nice keeping an eye on Mr. Roger’s cute behind all these years, but it’s just not worth this kind of aggravation."

Joyce stood in her room gazing out the window oblivious to the fabulous autumn day that had developed at Collinwood. She had seen Julia earlier and was relieved when her sister had excused herself to take care of some paperwork. Her alert eyes spied Barnabas Collins strolling the grounds, and she smiled wickedly as she was struck with inspiration. She quickly donned her running outfit and flew down the stairs and out the door to confront her prey.

Barnabas Collins was engaged in his daily constitutional when he heard a silken voice drawl behind him, "Good morning, Barnabas."

He turned to find Joyce, attired in a tight white tank top and short black spandex running shorts, smiling up at him sweetly. Try as he might, Barnabas just could not adjust to the clothing, or lack there of, of the women of this century.

"I was just about to go running," she said in a girlish voice. "I have to be so vigilant about my figure, you know. Isn’t it a glorious day?"

"Why, yes, ind-" he started to say but stopped short as she bent over right in front of him, giving him a clear view down the front of her shirt.

"Have to stretch first or I might pull a muscle," she remarked from beneath a waterfall of chestnut hair. Straightening, she caught sight of him hastily closing his gaping mouth. Mission accomplished! she thought with satisfaction.

"Uh, yes, I have heard that that is very important," he stuttered trying to regain his composure. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed his preoccupation with her ample endowments.

"Well, here I go!" she said cheerily as she ran off down the path before him. Barnabas breathed a sigh of relief as she left, but he couldn’t help craning his neck to watch her until she was out of sight.

Joyce had not been lying to Barnabas about her devotion to exercise. She knew that her body was the tool of her trade, and that she had to keep it fine-tuned. As she ran, she considered the bargain she had made with Mrs. Barnabas Collins. She had never gotten a full explanation from the mirror image about Barnabas or her history with him, but she wasn’t even that curious. She cared only about her own objectives, and the icy blonde was willing to help her achieve them. Why hadn’t she ever thought of witchcraft before? She was proving to be an apt pupil, easily learning the spells that Angelique was teaching her. It wasn’t even that difficult to concoct the potions that the woman had told her she would need.

She would not have admitted it to Angelique, but Joyce was tremendously relieved that the witch had put in an appearance in her looking glass. Joyce had been unpleasantly surprised and frustrated by Barnabas’ devotion to her older sister. She didn’t profess to understand it, but she knew that he had been struggling valiantly to resist her. She was confident that she had gotten his attention, but he was not the pushover that she had expected. She was glad to abandon subtly in her attempts to seduce him, and she was sure that the combination of her own talents and Angelique’s assistance would be deadly for Barnabas Collins. Joyce smiled as she ran because she had a plan that Angelique did not know about. The witch was obviously not omniscient because she assumed that Joyce’s sole objective was to make Julia’s life miserable. She seemed unaware of the younger Hoffman’s additional goal of bagging Barnabas Collins as her rich husband. Joyce knew that Angelique would not approve of her goal because she had distinctly said, "I can prevent him from having another." That bitch is so obsessed with this thought that she just doesn’t get it, Joyce smirked to herself. He is GOING to have another. ME.

Barnabas Collins opened the front door of his home and was confronted with a breathless and dripping wet Joyce Hoffman. The front of her tight white shirt was soaked through with sweat, and his eyes were drawn there as if by a magnet.

"I’m terribly sorry to bother you like this, Barnabas," she said through hitched breaths, which caused her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. "I didn’t realize the paths on the grounds were so long. Would it be all right if I came in for a drink of water? I’m really dying!"

"Of course," Barnabas mumbled, stepping aside to allow her to enter. "You must have had quite a run," he managed to say when he had caught his own breath. It wasn’t every day that he opened his front door to find a beautiful woman scantily clad in practically see-through clothing. "If you’d like to wait in the drawing room, I will be right back with some water."

"Thank you, kind sir," she purred as he hurried off.

Barnabas returned in a moment, and she gratefully accepted the icy glass that he extended to her. "I do apologize for coming here like this, Barnabas," she said sheepishly, indicating her appearance. "It’srather disconcerting running on unknown territory. I have rather a routine that I follow so my body knows when to expect rest and fluids. I just couldn’t make it all the way back to Collinwood without a drink!" She watched him closely as he lost the battle of trying to meet her eyes. And it didn’t hurt her purposes at all that it was so cold and drafty in this old house.

"It’s really no trouble at all, Joyce. You are always welcome here," he eked out with difficulty.

Joyce tried to suppress the broad grin that threatened to erupt on her calculating face. Maybe she wasn’t going to need those spells and potions after all. It was time to go for broke. "Barnabas," she began hesitantly, "I hate to ask you this, but I really am exhausted, and I just hate being all sweaty and grimy. Is there any chance that I could shower here instead of going all the way back to the main house?" She bit her lip hard to stifle the laughter that the shock on his face threatened to elicit from her. "Well, uh, I could, uh, see if Willie could –"

"Willie? Oh, is he here?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, he’s working upstairs."

Joyce hastily looked at the clock on the mantle and cried out in alarm. "Oh my gosh, look at the time! I have to get back to Collinwood. Thank you anyway, Barnabas, but I have to go!" She headed out the door so quickly that she never heard his loud exhale of relief. "Damn, damn, damn that Willie Loomis, anyway!" she sputtered as she left the Old House. He is always getting in my way! And I don’t like the way he looks at me either, like he knows what I ‘m up to. He acts as if I’m trash! Once we’re married, I’m going to have Barnabas get rid of the little creep." Her mouth twisted into an evil grin as another thought occurred to her. "Better yet, I'll see if Angelique can help me turn him into a toad!"

The next morning, Julia found Joyce reading a book in the drawing room at Collinwood. "Joyce, I’ve been looking for you. I’m afraid I have some bad news, dear. My assistant called, and the situation I told you about has worsened. I have to return to Wyndcliffe immediately to try to straighten it out. I’m sorry to have to leave you again, but it’s unavoidable."

"Don’t worry about it, sis. I understand. I know you have a lot of responsibilities. I can’t expect you to just drop everything because I’m here. You go and take care of it. I’ll be okay, really." She gave Julia a genuine smile; she couldn’t have been happier that the woman was going to be out of the way. She was getting anxious to resolve the situation with Barnabas. She herself had had a call that morning from a "friend" who told her that her time was running out on her debt, and she wanted to become the next Mrs. Barnabas Collins as soon as possible. She needed to get her hands on his checkbook in a hurry!

Julia gave Joyce a careful look. The young woman had been so understanding and pleasant for the past few weeks, and Julia had enjoyed her company very much. She felt like some of the chains that had squeezed her heart for much of her life had fallen away, and she hoped that her father was smiling down on the reunion of his two daughters. She still felt herself pricked by suspicion of her sister, but she guiltily fought her misgivings. Hadn’t Joyce proven her good faith since she had arrived at Collinwood? People changed; Barnabas had, hadn’t he? "I can’t help but feel guilty about leaving you again, Joyce," Julia said with a frown.

Joyce walked over to Julia, and gave her arm a quick squeeze. "How about we do something special when you’re free again, sis? We can talk about it when you get back, okay? Now, get out of here before that hospital falls apart without you!" She smiled warmly at Julia and started to shoo her out the door.

"Thank you, darling," Julia said with deep feeling, pulling on her coat.

Oh, will you do me a favor? I was supposed to have dinner with Barnabas. Would you mind calling him and explaining what has happened? I’ve been neglecting him too, I’m afraid. Tell him I won’t be back until at least tomorrow, and that’s if I’m lucky. "

"No problem, sis. I’ll take care of Barnabas." She was in her room choosing her ensemble for the evening before Julia had turned the key in the ignition of her car.

Collinsport continued to enjoy a mild autumn, but the temperate climate could not persuade the sun to extend its golden gift into the evening, and darkness claimed its sovereignty earlier every day. Barnabas arrived at Collinwood that evening anxious to spend time with Julia. He had dressed carefully in the navy suit she liked so much and had liberally applied the cologne that, in her words, "drove her wild." His hopeful smile faded when the door to Collinwood swung open to reveal the younger Miss Hoffman with no Julia in sight.

"Barnabas! Hello! What are you doing here?" the young woman asked with a smile.

"Julia and I are going out to dinner. Didn’t she tell you?" Barnabas scanned the drawing room and stairs with a frown. It wasn’t like Julia to keep him waiting; she was always very punctual.

"Oh, dear, didn’t she call you? She had to rush back to Wyndcliffe. Apparently the emergency up there needed her attention again."

"No, I didn’t hear from her. That’s odd, she is always so attentive to detail." Barnabas was sorely disappointed by this turn of events. He had missed Julia and wanted their relationship to get back on track. He had been hoping to do that this evening. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the time she had been spending with Joyce and at work, and not with him.

"Well, she was in quite a hurry, Barnabas. I don't think her assistants know how to get along without her. I'm sure your dinner date just slipped her mind. She will be so upset when she discovers she didn't contact you." Joyce stopped to survey his attire. "Looks like you really wanted to see Julia tonight, Barnabas."

"Yes," he said quietly. "I was really looking forward to this dinner."

"Let me get you a drink," she said brightly. "Maybe I can cheer you up." Turning her back to him, she felt in her pocket for the vial she had placed there. She surreptitiously emptied the contents into his glass and gave it a slight swirl. She hoped that Angelique had been truthful about the strength of this potion. She was running out of time. Joyce turned back to the distracted Barnabas with a bow. "Your drink, sir."

Barnabas downed the liquor in one gulp as he fought the resentment that was building in him. He had been Julia's priority for as long as he had known her, and he was having difficulty adjusting to being usurped by other aspects of her life.

Joyce watched him anxiously, trying to gauge the affect of the concoction she had prepared for him. He was distracted and uncommunicative making it difficult for her to tell how he was feeling. She walked close to him and took his hand. "Tell you what. Whydon’t you and I go to dinner? Then your evening won’t be an entire waste. I just need to run up and change. It’ll only take me a minute. What do you say, handsome?" Her eyes twinkled in anticipation, and she waited breathlessly to see if she was going to be successful.

He looked down into her exquisite face and had to shake his head to clear his vision. Her ruby lips seemed almost too full, her green eyes all consuming. He felt odd in a familiar way, but his mind was unable to grasp when he had felt this way before. The scent of sweet honey smelling flowers threatened to overpower his senses, and he struggled to understand how this could be during autumn in Collinsport. His clothing felt hot and unwieldy, and he longed to throw it aside in favor of a bare chest and short pants. What was she saying? Dinner? Yes, he needed something in his stomach to stop this light-headedness. He heard himself answer her affirmatively as he reached for another drink.

Barnabas wondered if he was coming down with the flu. He was having trouble concentrating on dinner and on his dinner companion. What was it that Julia was saying to him? He closed his eyes and opening them slowly was surprised to see that he was not dining with Julia at all but with her sister. Had he had too much to drink? He rarely did that. Had he been so upset about Julia’s absence that he had had one too many? He screwed up his face to try to think, but he could not remember having had more than two drinks at Collinwood.

He seemed to be swimming in an ocean of music. It surrounded his body, touching him everywhere, penetrating his clothes. He only wanted to lie down and float away on its waves, but he found himself struggling to move through it. He was not alone. He was holding someone soft and sweet smelling in his arms. His hands touched only silken skin, and he began to feel a fierce desire building inside him with each beat of his heart. Julia? He looked down at the woman in his arms and saw golden hair spinning with each turn that he made. Angelique? It couldn’t be. His mind cleared for a moment, and he realized that it was Joyce’s voluptuous body that he held so close to his own. She was wearing a short, sleeveless dress in a shade of vermilion that managed to not clash with her auburn hair. He had a fleeting thought that the dress barely covered her body, which served only to refresh the unquenchable desire for her that had invaded all of his nerve endings like an infection. Beautiful, desirable Joyce. But where was Julia? He had wanted Julia…. But there was only Joyce.

The brisk air blowing in from the sea brought Barnabas to himself with a start. Where am I? We were at Collinwood, then I remember dancing. . . . His eyes swam into focus, and he realized that he was unlocking the door of the Old House. Joyce was on his arm, laughing, nuzzling his neck. Why was she here? He wanted only to collapse in his large mahogany bed and sleep off the effects of whatever had rendered him so incapacitated. He hated this feeling of being out of control; he wanted to be himself again. What was wrong with him?

He was dancing again, this time in the middle of his own drawing room. The lithe redhead seemed to be supporting him because he could barely stand on his own. Her crimson lips were pressed against his, and the tops of her breasts rubbed against his open shirt. Her sultry breath against his chest was causing his body to respond to hers despite his efforts to resist. His hands found the cool metal of the zipper up the back of her dress, and he knew it would be so easy, so easy to . . .. "Barnabas!" a voice rang out, and his hand froze. "What the hell do ya think you’re doin’?"

Joyce flung herself away form Barnabas. Her eyes blazed at Willie with unabashed fury. Robbed of her physical support, Barnabas collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands.

Willie’s expression changed from surprised anger to one of concern. He stepped into the room and touched his friend’s shoulder. "You okay, Barnabas?"

"I’m. . . not feeling very well, Willie. Would you mind making sure that Miss Hoffman gets safely back to Collinwood? I think I had better go to bed."

"Sure, Barnabas. I – "

"Don’t bother, Mr. Loomis. I can get back on my own," Joyce snapped, grabbing her coat and slamming the door soundly behind her.

"Willie, would you assist me to my room?" Barnabas mumbled, rising shakily from the chair. Willie rushed to give him a supporting arm.

"What happened here tonight, Barnabas?" he asked confusion.

"I don’t know, Willie. I …just…don’t…know." Barnabas’ body, mind and spirit felt crippled by guilt. He loved Julia, his whole being told him that. But he had wanted Joyce, and if it hadn’t been for Willie….

Barnabas sank into a grateful sleep trying to rid his mind of the sensations of holding Joyce, of his hands on her bare back, the silkiness of her skin against his. He tried to remember his feelings for Julia, but she kept slipping farther from his consciousness, until at last his memory was only of a version of Julia, a much younger version of Julia. . . .

Joyce flew into her room enraged by the interference of Willie Loomis. She had been so close! The potion had worked wonders, and she had been reassured that she had not lost her own special touch. Another moment and she would have been in Barnabas Collins’ bed! She let out as loud a scream as she dared before noticing the slip of paper on her dresser. It was a message from Julia saying that she would return to Collinwood early the next afternoon.

"Damn!" she cursed aloud. "How am I supposed to get this done?" She threw the note to the floor with a hiss and a stomp of her foot.

Tinkling laughter filled the room. "Really, Miss Hoffman, you should learn to control your temper," the image in the mirror chuckled softly. Joyce glared at her compatriot with malice. "How am I supposed to break them up if Julia is back at Collinwood?" she spat at the blonde.

"Julia’s return is perfect timing, my dear. You have made excellent progress with Barnabas despite the ever present Mr. Loomis. It is time for the final phase of our plan, and then we will both have what we want. Barnabas will be free of Julia, and she will be left with a broken heart. Isn’t that what you want, Joyce? Your visit will have been a success, and you will be free to leave Collinwood," Angelique said confidently.

"What do I need to do?" the young woman asked. Angelique was still under the impression that Joyce wanted no more than vengeance against her sister, and Joyce was not about to enlighten her with the truth. Not until she had accomplished all of her goals.

"I have a delightfully simple strategy planned, one that is as old as Hades himself. And when we are done, dear Joyce, Julia Hoffman will never trouble you – or I – again."

MORE TO COME.

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