by Nancybe

Julia trudged into her office and collapsed in her desk chair. It had been a long night of trying to stabilize a patient in crisis. She was proud of the job her staff had done in weathering the crisis and confident that she could now safely return to Collinwood to attend to her personal life. She smirked slightly as she sat slouched in her leather chair. Her personal life. Before she had met Maggie Evans, before Barnabas, she hadn’t had much of a "personal life." Her energies had been directed toward her career for a multitude of reasons, and in spite of her renewed relationship with Joyce, she had to admit that her sister had been one of those reasons. The turbulence that Joyce had caused in Julia’s life had sent Julia running for cover, and in Julia’s life that had meant work. That was why she had buried herself back at Wyndcliffe when she had thought that she and Barnabas would never have a future. Well, work is my coping mechanism, she sighed to herself. It’s a hell of a lot better that alcohol, or drugs or – gambling. This thought reminded her of Joyce’s addiction and the agony it had caused both of them, and a frown marred her weary face. So much heartache for so long, she thought. Please let it be over now. Barnabas, Joyce, we all seem to have embarked on new journeys with each other. Please God let it all work out for once.

She rose from her chair and stood gazing out her office window. It had been a remarkable autumn, each day unfolding under an azure sky which shared its domain with only the bright sunflower that rose and set daily on the blue canvas. The painted leaves danced gaily in the breeze as if thrilled with their last hurrah of individuality before succumbing to winter. Julia felt as if it should be spring instead of fall, spring when there was rebirth. So many things had been renewed in her life: family, love, hope. How could they be heading in to the darkness and death of winter when she felt alive for the first time in so long? She reached for the telephone and dialed a familiar number. She drummed her fingers impatiently as the number rang several times before she finally heard him pick up.

"Hello?" Barnabas answered in a distant voice.

"Barnabas? Did I wake you?" she asked in surprise. He was usually an early riser, but he sounded as if she had roused him from a deep sleep.

"Wake me?" he said slowly. "No, you didn’t wake me. Is that you, Julia?"

"Yes, Barnabas. Are you feeling all right? You sound – odd."

"I’m okay, Julia. Something I ate last night must not have agreed with me, that’s all."

"I’m terribly sorry about dinner, Barnabas. I was looking forward to it, but I had to rush back here – "

"Yes, I was looking forward to it, too, Julia," his said, his tone slightly accusatory. "I was quite disappointed when I got to Collinwood, and you were not there."

"What?" she asked in surprise. "Didn’t Joyce give you my message?"

"When I arrived at the house, she told me that you had had to return to work. She was kind enough to accompany me to dinner so that I didn’t have to eat alone."

Julia took a deep breath trying to silence the alarm bells that threatened to erupt in her head. Old fears and feelings were struggling to rise from where they had been uneasily slumbering in the back of her mind. "Barnabas, I distinctly asked her to -, oh, never mind, I’m on my way back home right now. Can we have dinner tonight?"

"I don’t know, Julia. As I said, I am feeling a little strange. The thought of food right now rather turns my stomach."

"Is Willie there, Barnabas? I can give him instructions on what to give you – "

"No, today is Willie’s regular day off, Julia. He did offer to stay with me, but I told him it was quite unnecessary." His voice sounded thick and stilted, and Julia wished she could fly back to Collinwood on wings to see for herself just what was going on.

"I’ll be there as soon as I can, Barnabas," she said, hurriedly shrugging into her coat and hanging up before he could say goodbye.

Joyce Hoffman stood imperiously over the slumped figure of Barnabas Collins. He had answered all of Julia’s questions exactly right, and now it was Joyce’s turn to make sure that her strategy (Angelique’s, really) went according to plan. The witch had laid out all the details the night before, and although it was ridiculously easy, its success depended on careful timing. Thank goodness that lousy, weasel-faced Loomis is off for the day, Joyce thought. Angelique had reassured her of that, and it had relieved her mind considerably. She would have been so much farther ahead already if he hadn’t kept turning up like a bad penny.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the pathetic sight of Barnabas Collins. What did Julia and Angelique see in this bozo, anyway? Other than moolah, that is, and neither of them seemed too interested in that. Angelique’s spells had worked wonders on this simpering fool. A few words of mumbo jumbo in the mirror this morning on top of last night’s Mickey Finn, and the eminent Mr. Collins had been putty in her hands. Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she contemplated all that she would be able to accomplish with what she had learned of the black arts once she was married to this milksop. She wondered briefly how angry the blonde bitch would be when she realized that Joyce was going to take up residence in her old home instead of hightailing it out of Collinsport, but it didn’t matter. Joyce Hoffman knew a good thing when she saw it, and she was going to stick around for awhile. When she did bid the dear old Collins family adieu, she was going to be flush. And then it was off to Vegas. Hmmm, she wondered, suddenly inspired. How well does witchcraft work on the black jack tables?

She glanced back at Barnabas whose head was lolling to one side. His normally vibrant eyes were glazed over, and a thin string of shimmering drool wept from one side of his open mouth and pooled on the shoulder of his shirt. She chuckled thinking that he looked like the work of a very good taxidermist. "Do you think I could fool the family if I really did have you stuffed and propped up in that chair?" she asked the non-responsive man with a laugh.

Barnabas was unable to respond to her. At this point, her spells had rendered him no more than a puppet that said and did what it was told. His own mind and will had been relegated to a back corner of his consciousness, and they watched languidly as his tangible self reacted only to the red-haired beauty’s commands.

"Time to get up, Barnabas. Dear sister Julia will be here soon, and you’re going to have some ‘splainin’ to do," she said in her best Ricky Ricardo voice. She gave him instructions as she reached for her purse. She withdrew the heavy object she had taken from Julia’s room (again, on Angelique’s instructions) and placed it in the pocket of the suit jacket she wore. Checking the time, she picked up the telephone and began to dial.

Julia’s mind raced with possibilities as she sped to Collinwood. Barnabas had sounded so strange on the phone, and he had been annoyed that she had not been able to go to dinner with him the night before. Joyce had said she would give him Julia’s message. Had she just forgotten? Or was something else going on?

Preoccupied by her thoughts, Julia failed to notice the autumn pageantry of the trees that lined her route. Glancing down at the speedometer, she was alarmed to see she was greatly exceeding the speed limit. She forced her foot to ease up on the gas pedal and felt as if she crawled the rest of the way to Collinwood. Turning onto the estate with a screech, she started for the Old House and then changed her mind. She wanted to see Joyce first to find out what was going on.

"Don’t assume anything, Julia," she admonished herself out loud. "When you assume, you make an ass out of ‘you’ and ‘me’."

Rushing in the front door of Collinwood, she was confronted by Mrs. Johnson. "Have you seen my sister, Mrs. Johnson?" Julia asked, breathlessly.

"Well, no, Dr. Hoffman, I can’t say as I have." She paused as she heard the ring of the telephone. "Excuse me, I have to answer that."

Julia started up the stairs when she was stopped by the housekeeper’s voice. "It’s for you, doctor. Your sister."

Julia snatched the phone anxiously from the woman’s hand. "Joyce? Where are you? I want to talk to you."

"Julia! Thank goodness you’re there! I’m at the Old House. You’ve got to come right away! It’s Barnabas!" the younger woman screamed into the phone.

"Joyce, what is it?" Julia asked trying to stay calm.

"Just get over here NOW, Julia! I don’t have time to explain!"

"Joyce!" Julia said into the phone again but the line had gone dead. She raced out of the house leaving a bewildered Mrs. Johnson shaking her head after her.

Julia pushed open the door to the Old House with a bang. "Barnabas?

Joyce?" Receiving no answer, she called out their names again as she hurriedly surveyed the downstairs. Hearing a small noise from above, she took the stairs two at a time. She turned in the direction of Josette’s room for it was from there that the noise had come. It seemed to take all of her strength to pull open the centuries old door before her, and she could hear nothing now but the thud of her heartbeat in her ears. Her progress into the room was halted because her legs seemed suddenly set in cement. For a moment, she could not breath, she could not speak, and she thought that if she hadn’t been so paralyzed, the contents of her stomach would have lined the walls of the ornate bedroom. She flashed back to the times she had fallen off of her bicycle as a child and had had the wind knocked out of her for the same sick feeling now pervaded her body.

Joyce Hoffman turned to her half-sister with a triumphant smile. The jacket of her chocolate brown silk suit lay carefully folded on the nearby bed leaving her wearing only the matching skirt and an eggshell camisole with nothing beneath it. Her long, toned arms were wrapped around the neck of a bare-chested Barnabas Collins who was busy placing small kisses on the milky skin of her neck

Julia’s voice returned to her in a rush of air, and she shrieked their names in rage and betrayal. "Barnabas! Joyce! How COULD you? My own sister – "

As the force of Julia’s fury carried her further into the room, Joyce disengaged herself from Barnabas’ embrace and withdrew the revolver she had hidden in her jacket. Thrusting it into Barnabas’ hand, she screamed at him to shoot Julia. "She’ll kill me, Barnabas! She’s always hated me! She’ll kill me for being with you! Shoot her! Shoot her now, Barnabas!" Barnabas responded as if a robot and sluggishly raised the arm which held the bulky weapon, pointing it at Julia. Julia stood frozen in place once more and looked at his blank face in horror. He was really going to kill her! He was going to pull the trigger on that dreadful thing so that he could be with -

Her thoughts evaporated as the faint sound of tiny bells began to fill her ears. Icy stabs of fear and dread slashed at her heart for she instinctively recognized this sound: the laughter of an enemy who had tormented her physically, mentally, and spiritually, laughter that could fray every nerve in her body. She turned toward the mirror that hung on the wall between Barnabas and herself and saw the hateful china doll face that haunted her dreams materialize inside of it.

"Angelique!" she cried in a voice filled with loathing, terror, and disgust but very little surprise.

"Yes, dear Julia. You don’t look very surprised to see me. Didn’t you think me dead?"

Julia glanced between the mirror image and Barnabas who stood frozen but still poised to kill her. "Angelique, I would not be surprised if you appeared on the horizon proclaiming yourself the Messiah," she said in a shaky voice controlled only by sheer strength of will.

"Your sharp tongue will not help you now, Julia," the blonde sorceress said smugly. "I did not want you going to your grave without knowing who had vanquished you once and for all."

"You are responsible for this!"

"Oh, I cannot take all the credit. Your sister and I made a bargain, Julia. A bargain to keep you away from MY husband!" she spat.

"He is NOT your husband! He hasn’t been your husband in two hundred years and even then, he didn’t marry you willingly! Coercion is grounds for annulment, you bitch!"

Barnabas had remained ready to fire at Julia during this exchange; all he awaited was a command. Joyce had listened impatiently and was tired of the delay. "Just shoot her, Barnabas! Let’s get this over with!" she yelled in a shrill voice.

"Yes, Barnabas, my love, it is time to kill your darling Julia," Angelique cooed from inside her frigid glass dwelling place.

The dark figure heard his instructions and prepared to carry them out. He had no choice; in this state, he did not exist as an independent being but only as an empty shell. But his hand hesitated as it attempted to follow its orders for the one who was Barnabas Collins, though buried deep inside this shell, fought against the command with the last ounce of will he could muster. This man looked down the long dark tunnel through the empty eyes and saw the woman who had been his best friend, his protector, his confidante, and most recently, his beloved. And he could not kill her.

Barnabas’ hand fell heavily to his side, and the two co-conspirators looked at him in astonishment. Joyce fell on him and grabbed the weapon from him with a jerk. Barnabas slumped to the floor, his last act of will having drained him of all strength.

"You idiot! I’ll do it myself!" she screamed, her eyes blazing with fury. Julia watched her sister raise the gun to fire and launched herself at the woman with a cry. She managed to get her hands around Joyce’s, and the two sisters wrestled for control of the weapon. "I hate you, Julia!" Joyce spat into her sister’s face. "I always have! And every time you have tried to give me another chance, I have hated you more because of your weakness! I am going to have Barnabas, not you! I’m going to marry him, and you won’t even be around to watch!"

Angelique’s wide sapphire eyes grew even wider as she heard Joyce’s proclamation and was furious at the redhead’s attempt to double-cross her. "You should not have underestimated me," she snarled to herself. Murmuring soft words under her breath, she watched as the two women continued to fight for control of the gun.

Julia had cornered her sister against the large double window as they struggled. A sudden gust of wind arose from the center of the room and blew the windows open. Joyce, who had tried to gain leverage by leaning against the pane, lost her balance, and despite Julia’s frantic attempt to hold onto her, fell screaming to the leaf strewn ground below.

Julia stared down in shock at the sight of the broken body below her. Behind her, the mirror image of the vengeful witch gradually faded from the room with a curse, her plan foiled and her human instrument no longer of any use to her. Julia shook off her paralysis and raced from the room, past Barnabas’ still figure, and out of the house. She knelt next to the body of her sister, twisted into a grotesquely unnatural pose, and the doctor in her knew immediately that she could do nothing to save the younger woman’s life.

Julia gently cradled her sister’s head in her lap, tenderly brushing back the strands of auburn hair that had fallen into her face. Tiny rivulets of blood ran in crooked streams from Joyce’s nose, mouth and ears and quickly coated Julia’s hands with the warm, sticky fluid. A pool of crimson formed in Julia’s lap where Joyce’s head lay, and the autumn leaves that fluttered next to her sister’s body were spattered with bright ruby red drops.

"It’s all right, Joyce," Julia whispered to her softly. "I’m here. I won’t leave you." She knew that all she could offer her sister now was comfort - and love.

With the last bit of strength she possessed, Joyce Hoffman raised one battered and bloodied hand to grasp Julia’s blouse. Pulling her sister closer to her face, Joyce whispered her dying words in a garbled voice, "I’m . . . not sorry, Julia." And then her hand fell away as the life drained out of her onto the bed of grass and leaves beneath her.

Julia Hoffman bent her head over her sister’s lifeless body and sobbed bitterly. It was the season of death and darkness after all.

MORE TO COME.

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