by May Sutherland

For those of you who might be unfamiliar with the storyline from the last year of DARK SHADOWS: in the haunted summer of 1970, Barnabas and Julia returned from their terrifying journey into parallel time, and were suddenly flung 25 years into the future.. to a Collinwood peopled by death and destruction. In their desperate efforts to discover the cause. they inadvertently turned that cause against themselves: the spirit of Judah Zachary, an unbelievably vengeful warlock. who was in turn possessing the spirit of a man named Gerard. Knowing him only as Gerard, Barnabas and Julia tried in vain to glean information from the deranged Carolyn, Quentin, and Mrs. Johnson -- sole survivors to a holocaust that had destroyed what had once been their home. Time passed swiftly. and Barnabas and Julia found themselves unable to gather enough clues to understand what had happened. Confusion reigned as Gerard tried to turn them against each other. But through it all, one stabilizing factor remained: the apparitions of the spirits who had claimed the ruins as their own. There were four of them: Gerard himself, a silent dark-haired woman, David Collins (or someone that looked like him), and a very pretty, young, blonde girl. Who she was, neither could discover, but she was always there: pensively watching, or dancing in the moonlight to the lilting tune of the carousel music-box. And when Gerard saw that he could not separate Barnabas and Julia by either fear or mistrust of each other, he tried to separate them by death. Touching Julia lightly on the forehead, he caused her to fall, dying. And as Barnabas, weeping, carried her in his arms, the spirit of the young blonde girl came before him, gently beckoning the way. She led him to a door, which opened onto a ruined staircase. Desperate. Barnabas carried Julia up the stairs ... and back through time. And once safe within their own time-band, with Julia recovering. they were both startled to hear a voice asking them who they were. It was the girl... no longer a spirit, but of living flesh and blood. When questioned, she said she had come to the West Wing "on impulse... "

They had no way of knowing, then, that the girl was predestined to become a part of all the evil that they had encountered in the future ... an evil that had lain sleeping within Collinwood's walls for over a hundred and twenty years. For, as in "POLTERGEIST," it required the presence of a young and innocent girl with Psychic Powers to awaken it... a girl who knew nothing of the threat it held for her. Her arrival at Collinwood was to mark the start of that evil...an important story that was left untold on aired DS.

This, then, is her story.

ONE

Gravel crunched under the thin soles of the delicately-new patent-leather shoes... grating harshly against them as the slender blonde girl dragged them slowly through the tiny stones. She didn't care. Pausing to give a well-aimed kick at a particularly large chunk, she stared resentfully at the looming bulk of the house ahead of them. So, this was the house where she was now expected to live... to take her place in the world. Didn't they know that the world had ended... ended with a blinding smashing of glass and a deafening screech of brakes; ended with a car wreck that had, all in a breathtaking flash of time, turned the world upside-down and had somehow forgotten to take her along with it...

Elliot Stokes hesitated, his swinging stride interrupted as he turned to peer back at her. He adjusted his monocle; she could see the glass flashing in the faint light from the windows up ahead.

"Well, well -- step up, child, don't dawdle. Mrs. Stoddard will be expecting us, I trust."

Hallie's lip began to thrust itself forward, much to her dismay. She stopped walking, praying that she could somehow stop the threatened flood of tears before it began... praying that her portly uncle would not see...

Elliot scowled, his own lower lip jutting out in vexation. "Tut, tut, step lively. It would create a most unfavorable impression if we should be tardy on the first day."

"You make it sound like I'm starting school or something," Hallie mumbled, half to herself.

"Speak up, girl, I can't hear you," her uncle chided, not altogether unkindly. Taking a step closer, he peered nearsightedly in the direction of her face. "Anything wrong, my dear?"

At his softened tones, the unwanted tears sprang from her eyes and rolled burningly down her soft, pale cheeks. Her delicately-etched face contorted, squeezing back the droplets with a fierce grimace. But the tears burst forth like a small volcanic eruption, and with them ragged sobs.

Startled and dismayed, Professor Stokes looked helplessly around him at the deserted courtyard. He hadn't the faintest idea what to do about a crying child. He wished mightily, for perhaps the thousandth time, that he hadn't chosen to live his life as a solitary bachelor. A wife -- children of his own -- some experience to come to his aid at this crucial moment. Finally, awkwardly, he put a plump arm around the slender, heaving form, patting its back gingerly.

"There, there," he mumbled, gazing over the tumbled blonde hair into the darkness. It was odd, the cruelty of life... of a fate that would cast this innocent, vibrant young girl adrift in a sea of loneliness and despair. She was so loving and affectionate; so full of hope and youthful expectations. "There, there," he said again, painfully aware of his own inadequacy. "It's all right ... it's all right."

He was surprised when, in another moment, she had calmed down. He watched her fiercely wiping her eyes as she pulled away.

"Here," he thrust a clean handkerchief at her. "Dry your eyes now.. there's a good girl."

Hallie wiped, managing a weak but watery smile. "I'm okay, Uncle Elliot. Thanks. I... I don't know what came over me."

His grating voice was warmed with understanding. 'Perfectly understandable. A strange house... full of strangers you I've never met. It's a great undertaking to go and live amongst them... learn their ways. I do wish I could take care of you myself, but--"

"Oh," she gulped, tense with longing, "can't I please come live with you? I could -- I could do all your mending for you, and cook, and take notes, and--"

His low chuckle interrupted the gushing flow of words. 'Firstly, you'd be terribly taxed to find such work -- I have a housekeeper who comes in to do such things for me - Secondly, I always take my own notes; it keeps my brain from losing track of itself. Besides, what does a crusty old bachelor like myself, know about rearing a young girl?"

"Oh, please -- you could learn?"

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks, my dear," Eliot chuckled. But a faint feeling of uneasiness suddenly nagged at him as he glanced up at the forboding-looking mansion. Was he doing the right thing, leaving his sweet, innocent niece in a place that had held so much evil in the past? He shook his head abruptly, sternly reminding himself that the evil had been gone for months. The Leviathans' evil had been destroyed along with them. So what was it, then, that disturbed him?

Parallel Time... that was it. If only Barnabas and Julia would return from parallel time...

He sighed, shaking his head to dismiss such useless thoughts. "Come," he instructed, guiding Hallie toward the house.

She allowed herself to be led, but looked up at the house with sullen eyes. "It's an ugly house," she pouted. "I'm going to just HATE it here."

'It looks much more cheerful in the light of day Elliot told her, hoping he sounded cheerful. "I will admit the architecture does seem to lack a certain... a certain style and form."

Hallie shrugged, remembering her uncle's odd way of seeming to believe himself an expert on almost every subject on earth. The building's structure was not what she had had in mind ... it was a feeling. An odd feeling... that here was where ugliness lurked, unseen...

"The other house on the estate is much better, though not perfect," Elliot was continuing in his self-important, learned way. "The pseudo-Greek columns in front do one's heart good to see. Too bad the owner isn't here, so you could go to see it tomorrow. But it's just as well. It's a long walk through the woods if you're unaccustomed to it."

"Oh, that's all right," Hallie replied. "I never got tired when I went to visit it. The woods are so pleasant to walk through. It wasn't as far as the beach, anyway."

Elliot stopped so suddenly that she looked up at him, startled.

"Now, why in God's name did you say that?" he whispered softly.

Hallie felt puzzled. "Didn't I visit you here once when I was little or something?"

He shook his head, swallowing hard. "No."

"But ... but everything looks so familiar. And when you said that, I got a vision in my head of the house with white pillars in front. Over there. " To illustrate, she turned and pointed through the trees.

"The correct direction," Elliot murmured. He drew a musing hand over his chin, frowning thoughtfully. "Tell me, what form do the pillars take? Do they form a straight line in front of the house? Are they in an arc? Are they double?"

Hallie frowned, trying to remember. "They... they form an arc ... they come out like a bow before the door, and there's a railing for a balcony on top."

"Dear Lord."

Hallie felt a stab of alarm at his tone. "Well, wasn't I ever here, visiting you?"

"My dear child, I never set foot on this property until 1968... a mere two years ago."

Hallie felt a shiver travel down her spine. Then she frowned. It didn't make any sense... she could see the vision of the house so clearly...

"It's just as your father said," Elliot was murmuring to himself. "He said you had psychic potential..."

Hallie's face twisted in pain at the mention of the parent whom she would never see again. "Please, maybe we don't have to talk about that.. ."

"Of course... of course." Elliot looked distressed. He moved ahead rapidly, trying to provide a distraction. "Come, my dear."

She followed, pausing beside him, watching dully as he grasped the brass door-knocker in his pudgy fingers, bringing it sharply three times against the solid door. The door that was soon to open to her new home.

Her home.

The far-off sound of waves that crashed against rocks somewhere within hearing distance, only increased her already-active feeling of apprehension. It made her feel nervous, and yet, for some reason, it made her feel comforted as well. It reminded her of something... something long-since forgotten and buried deep within the recesses of her active young mind. Now touched, it stretched forward... questioning... curling in the salt sea air like a delicate, tinkling tune...

Sunlight dappled the surface of the water, wavelets sparkling as they danced far below the cliffs where she set. The three-masted schooner seemed far--away and doll-like where it rested at anchor, 'way out toward town. A light wind tickled the plumy feather against her cheek... smiling, she untied the satin ribbons and laid the bonnet in her lap. Long golden curls fell luxuriously to her shoulders. and Jeremy reached for one to curl between his work- roughened but gentle fingers. She smiled up at him, reveling in his dark curls, his wild, snapping black eyes. He leaned toward her, his eyes closing slowly.. she closed her own, waiting breathlessly for--

"Well, well! You must be Hallie Stokes."

Blinking, she realized that she had been staring fixedly into space, unseeing, so deeply had she been listening entranced. The tinkling tune vanished -- shattered. The face that swam above her own now, drove the image of the other one out of her mind. It was different, but darkly handsome as well with its strong, square chin and piercing blue eyes. Fascinated, her own young, feminine eyes drank in his appearance, even as she realized with a corner of her mind that she had seen him someplace before.

She stood immobilized until a friendly hand grasped her own cold one, and drew her over the threshold and into the dimly-lit foyer before she knew what was happening.

"Hi, there. You must be the little girl -- excuse me, the young lady that Professor Stokes told us about." Smiling rakishly, the young man turned to her uncle. 'You didn't say she was so grown-up."

"She's only sixteen," Eliot retorted sharply.

"A nice age,' the young man nodded, flashing a smile that gleamed whitely, but held no hint of menace. "I think young David will like you."

Hallie was annoyed to find herself blushing. She sensed that the young man was only teasing her, trying to make her feel more at home. She found herself warming to his smile, to his friendliness, and suddenly the house seemed a much less lonely place.

Elliot cleared his throat. "Hallie, my child, this is Quentin Collins... the -- ah -- adventurer of the family."

Quentin gave a chuckle. "Oh-ho! Your uncle is much too kind to me. He prefers not to discuss my... er... more widely-known talents."

Hallie laughed, ignoring her uncle's disapproving scowl. Tucking her small hand deeper into the large one that held it, she looked searchingly into his blue eyes. Without giving it much thought, she allowed her own mind to probe into his; searching, exploring. There was sadness here, she found; sadness that was carefully hidden behind the carefree voice and nonchalant manner. But there was also kindness... and the friendship he offered her was sincere.

"Elliot, you've brought her!"

The new voice, a woman's, came from the direction of the open drawing-room doors; and Hallie turned to see a regal, dignified woman, whose dark beauty was still evident in spite of her years. Elizabeth Stoddard moved forward with the grace of a queen and the welcoming warmth of a mother, and when her hands closed over Hallie's, the girl found all of her former fears melting away into the shadows that lined the foyer.

She couldn't hear the tinkling music now.

*****************************

He had come awake slowly... gradually... some magnetic force touching him lightly where he slept. The silence of an empty, cobwebbed room surrounded him as he dwelt -- not lived -- in its cloaked darkness. He stirred, his mind probing the twisting corridors of the great house. Silence... desolation... he searched further, ever seeking...

... until success. There were people here.

And She was here.

They had not escaped him then, and they would not escape him now. He would rise, and conquer them...

But he was too weak. He needed the strength of life... of someone, living now, who remembered. Who remembered without knowing what they knew.. or why. One of those who had lived here Before.

All it would take would be just one.

Or perhaps more than one, in time. When he was stronger, and could reach them as well as the girl.

But for now, he would concentrate on her. Her innocence would give him life: he would feed upon it. Upon it... and upon her. For she would not know how to fight against him... nor even that she should try to fight against him. Her natural powers would help him to succeed...

... and he would grow.

To Be Continued

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