Part Three

by May Sutherland

She listened with only half an ear as the family discussed their various concerns: Roger's unexpected trip to Europe, Chris Jennings' sudden departure with his little sister Amy, David's new camera. Hallie didn't need to glance up to know that Elizabeth Stoddard was troubled and preoccupied, her dark eyes moving back and forth from her daughter Carolyn's blonde head, bent low over her own plate, to an empty chair that stood, ownerless, against the wall. Carolyn herself hardly spoke at all tonight; when she did it was in an artificially high-pitched voice that tried desperately to sound cheerful. It was plain to Hallie that Mrs. Stoddard was seriously concerned about Carolyn tonight, as well as that empty chair. But somehow, tonight Hallie couldn't seem to feel interested. Not after what she'd been through...

Hallie finished her meal and pushed back her chair, excusing herself with the unconscious, quiet grace that had endeared her to the Collins family already, although she was unaware of it. A nod from Elizabeth set her free to roam, and her wandering feet took her into the deserted drawing-room where a persistent fire still burned low on the hearth. She drifted toward it, but a sudden change of mood made her shift direction, moving instead to the tall French windows.

She leaned disconsolately against the massive wine-red draperies, a faint pout curling her mouth (A "Stokes trademark," her uncle might have said... or her father). Her small fingers played absently with the window- latch as she pressed her blonde head against the coolness of the glass. Tiny spatters of rain trickled down on the other side, forming rivulets that crossed and intercrossed before her eyes. Like tiny canals... a whole miniature network of canals... like the ones she'd dug in her father's vegetable-garden when she was small. How he had laughed when he'd discovered her -- scooping her up in his big, strong arms, regardless of her muddy fingers or frock, he'd said she'd make a fine engineer someday. His twinkling eyes, as blue as her own... she would never see them laughing at her again... not ever. Her head bent, and the tears came, rolling as silently down her face as did the raindrops on the other side of the glass.

". . . really wish you wouldn't go, Quentin."

Voices from the foyer, clear across the long room, did not make her turn her head. Maybe, if she kept very still, they wouldn't find her crying there and try to give her the kind sympathy that would only make her cry harder and harder until she couldn't stop...

"... searched the entire East Wing several times a day," Elizabeth was saying, her normally warm voice becoming edgy. "They're gone, Quentin, gone permanently. It isn't any use to go there again. They're dead - - I'm sure they're dead."

"Now, now." Quentin's voice was unusually gentle and there was a soft sound, as if he had put a comforting arm around the distraught Elizabeth. "Of course they're all right. Why they've pulled through some tough situations before this, you know. I'm sure a fire wouldn't keep them from --"

"But -- no word -- nothing -- not even a message! You haven't even heard any of those people in that room -- that world -- whatever it is -- mentioning their names for days now! And no one has mentioned Julia at all, even from the beginning--"

"Well, I haven't been able to camp out by the door, you know!" Quentin gave a little chuckle.

"What if something did happen to Barnabas, and Julia's been alone in there all this time?"

"Don't you worry. Barnabas was alive when she first went through, or else she would've returned?"

"What if she couldn't? What if they discovered her, and she's a prisoner, or the fire--"

"Now, Liz, you're letting your imagination run away with you. Listen," another faint chuckle touched his voice, "I pity anyone who tries to harm Barnabas while she's around. She's got enough nerve and brains to get anyone through anything."

"Yes, but a fire! And anyway, Barnabas must have been in danger -- real danger -- the way she was acting that last day," Elizabeth returned. "I've never seen her that way before. She was so pale... so determined. I begged her to come away from that awful room with me, but she declared she was going to stand right there on that spot and wait until it changed, no matter how long it took. I tried to reason with her, of course, but she wouldn't listen. I went away to get Roger. And when we came back, she... was gone... the room was... empty." Her voice broke, shattering into silence.

"She loves him, you know," Quentin said at last, very softly. "God knows, I wish I were fortunate enough to have a woman that loved me like that. I'd have a lot more sense than he does. "

There was another silence, but this time it was a companionable one; a mutual opinion about the ungrateful Barnabas Collins that did not need to be aired out loud.

Elizabeth was the first to speak, and her voice had returned to something like normal. "I do wish you would not go back again tonight, Quentin. I know you're fascinated with the place, and that we might hear -- something -- but I keep thinking that you might somehow be tempted to... to go in..."

"Now, don't you worry," he said again, with a hint of a smile in his voice. "I promise you solemnly that I won't, not for anything in the world. After all, who'd help Maggie take care of David?"

Elizabeth made a sound that could have been a laugh; Hallie wasn't sure. She could hear Quentin's footsteps ascending the stairs; Elizabeth seemed to be standing still for a moment, probably watching until Quentin opened the connecting door to the inner hall. Then the study door closed softly as Elizabeth went inside.

After a moment, Hallie pulled out from behind the concealing draperies, thankful that neither of them had entered the room to see her standing there. She hadn't meant to listen, but perhaps they would've been annoyed. It wasn't the first time she'd heard people discussing the disturbing disappearance of their friends from Collinwood, but it was the first time she'd heard them speak so candidly. Now it began to sound as if David's strange tale might be true after all... she thought of her own, more normal version and hesitantly began to reject it. An elopement might be more usual, it was true, but if that were really what had happened, then why would Mrs. Stoddard and Quentin discuss the "strange-room" version when they thought they were alone?

Hallie stood irresolutely, a small frown settling between her eyes. Suddenly, this house didn't seem like a very pleasant place any more. In this house was a strange room, that people went into and disappeared forever. That room, and the mysterious Voice that had called to her, combined to frighten her more than she had ever been frightened in her life. Even now, the mere memory of that Voice was enough to send fresh chills down her spine.

... maybe it was connected somehow... maybe the missing people had heard the Voice, too, and maybe that's why they'd gone to the Room... and disappeared. Maybe... maybe Hallie was next, and she, too, was going to disappear into a strange world and never come back...

Panic assailed her. She had to leave Collinwood. She had to leave right now.

Her frantic glance fell on the telephone by the door. Uncle Elliot... she had to call him, to ask him to come and take her away from here. He would understand. He knew all about strange, mysterious happenings. He'd even been pleased when she'd told him about the strange "feelings" she sometimes had, and suggested she could learn to use them. But she wasn't so sure that she did want to learn to use them ... not if it meant hearing Voices.

Especially that one.

For a full minute, she stood there, debating with herself. Maybe she was all wrong about the Room; maybe it had no connection with the Voice at all. If so, then she was in no danger of disappearing.

But what other dangers did the Voice hold for her? She had felt its Evilness; had felt it as clearly as if it had been right in the room with her... had tasted it and smelled it. It wanted to Get her.

But it didn't have her yet.

She could escape.

It would only take a minute to phone. Perhaps Uncle Elliot would come to Collinwood tonight to get her, now that the storm was nearly over. If nothing else, he could at least maybe explain things to her, and help her to understand what was happening. There was always a chance that there wasn't as much to fear as she now thought. If only he'd be at home tonight, instead of at the University, giving another one of those lectures that he professed to hate.

Moving to the telephone, she wondered what she'd do if he did not answer. Maybe she could call a taxi, and ride out to his place in Rockport to wait for him. She had begun to dial, when a voice behind her made her nearly drop the receiver.

"You'll never be able to get a date on a night like this."

Hallie whirled, meeting Carolyn's laughing eyes with some confusion. "A date? I wasn't--"

"Of course, the storm has died down," Carolyn observed, drifting to the French window to gaze out in to the blackness of the night, untouched by lightning now. "It was quite a storm, wasn't it.. even for Collinwood."

"You mean... you get them often?"

Carolyn's laugh was both amused and sympathetic "Do we? Are you in for a surprise."

Hallie replaced the phone receiver. She glanced uneasily at Carolyn, wondering if she had come into the room to stay. Carolyn was odd... she could seem so withdrawn at times... almost even unfriendly. And then she'd suddenly turn around and behave perfectly normal, even making overtures of friendliness as she appeared to be doing now. One could never be sure what kind of mood she'd be in... although tonight she seemed to want some kind of company. Even Hallie's.

Then Carolyn turned away, and Hallie watched as her small, slender form pressed against the glass, as Hallie herself had done earlier. Carolyn's head was half-turned from her, but Hallie could see her eyes clouding over with the mist of some distant thought, as if her mind were traveling far beyond the place where her body stood, out across the garden and into the night beyond. Without realizing that she was doing so, Hallie allowed her own mind to reach out, and sensed a loneliness in the other; an acutely overwhelming sense of loss similar to the loss she herself had felt only minutes before.

Slowly, she moved closer to the other blonde, and stood beside her looking out onto the deserted terrace. She felt no surprise when Carolyn's arm suddenly went around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"I know it's tough on you," Carolyn said softly. "'But I want you to know I think you're doing very well.. I couldn't have done nearly as well, when I was your age. I lost my father--" her voice faltered momentarily, then regained strength, "I lost my father only this spring. I'm not over it yet, and I'm older than you are."

Hallie nodded silently, fighting an urge to cry.

"Only, for you it's even worse," Carolyn went on as if in wonder. "I don't know what I'd do if my--"She stopped before saying the word "mother," as if realizing how tactless she was being. "Well, anyway, I think you're a great kid. This place must seem awfully strange to you.

"A little. "

"A little! Look, you don't have to hide anything from me. Collinwood often feels strange to me, and I've had the misfortune to have lived here all my life."

Hallie was silent for a long moment.

"Carolyn..."

"Hmmmm?"

"Did you ever hear... ever think you heard... voices calling?"

"I hear voices all the time," Carolyn replied gaily . "My mother, uncle Roger--"

"No, I mean... voices that aren't ... that aren't really there."

Carolyn tensed. "A man's or a woman's voice... or was it both? What did they say?"

"I don't know ... a man's voice. He said "Carrie."

" 'Carrie?'" Carolyn was frowning, biting her lower lip. "There isn't any Carrie here... anything else?"

"I don't know... I just keep hearing things."

"That's cryptic enough."

Hallie was forced to laugh. "No, I just keep hearing things, like a music-box."

"Was it Maggie's?"

"Oh, no. I had a dream... "

"You heard the music-box in a dream," Carolyn's voice was frankly skeptical now.

"But you never heard it?" Hallie persisted. "Not even once? I've heard it before I had the dream."

"Not even once," Carolyn laughed, giving her a quick squeeze. "I can assure you, the only music- box in this house that is ever played is Maggie's."

"It wasn't that one. "

"Let's get back to the voice you heard. Did it sound like the man was calling for help?"

"If you mean, do I think it was your cousin Barnabas, no I don't," Hallie replied shrewdly.

"But you've never heard his voice," Carolyn persisted. "How do you know?"

Hallie thought back to the white-faced man she had seen in her dream, and compared the image to the one of the gentle, sad face in the portrait in the hall. "No, it wasn't, " she said positively. "He was just... just talking. I must have dreamed him, too."

Carolyn gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, Hallie, you really had me going there for a minute. It's just we're all so concerned about them."

Hallie nodded silently. She'd found out what she wanted to know. No one could hear the sounds except her. Not David... not Carolyn. Well, maybe someone else could...?

They fell into a companionable silence, looking out into the night. A faint flicker of lightning showed occasionally through the trees, as the storm raged in someone else's sky. The rain had drizzled out, and the quietude of silence had fallen over the great house. Silence crept into every corner of the room around them, even as they stood there. Thick, heavy silence. It seemed to increase with each tick of the clock out in the foyer, and it wasn't until the clock suddenly struck the quarter-hour that Hallie realized she had been listening for something... straining to listen... listening along with the silence of the house.

"Carolyn," she whispered. "Do you feel it?"

Dreamily, Carolyn nodded. "Yes.. it's so quiet. It's as if the whole world were waiting for something to happen."

"It isn't the world," Hallie answered softly. "It's the house."

Carolyn listened, slowly nodding her head in agreement. Then, abruptly, she gave herself a little shake. "Oh, what a pair we are," she laughed nervously, drawing Hallie away from the window. "The common affect of Collinwood on a stormy night. I used to get it all the time. I thought I'd outgrown it. I guess one never does, do they? You're just bored. Why don't you got David to give you some lessons in photography?"

In spite of herself, Hallie couldn't help making a little face. Then she laughed; the peculiar sensation was gone, banished with the prosaic light of everyday things like photography. She let Carolyn steer her out into the foyer and up the stairs, feeling slightly light-headed with relief .

"I think we both need a rest," Carolyn declared as they went up. "I know it's kind of early, but I'm going to turn in. I got a new book in town yesterday and I'd like to finish it tonight. Want to borrow it tomorrow? It's awfully good."

"Sure. Thanks, Carolyn."

"Don't mention it."

They arrived at Carolyn's door, the former atmosphere completely destroyed. Hallie said goodnight and moved slowly on toward her own door, listening as Carolyn's latch clicked into place with a soft whisper of sound. And with that sound, the old feeling returned, more strongly than before. That soft little click had been as the clanging of an iron gateway, cutting her off from the normalcy of other people... from friendship and laughter. Once again, she was all alone...

The hall was dark, the little shaded wall lamps barely penetrated the gloom. Hallie paused to look carefully at one of them, struck all at once by the incongruity of it. It didn't seem to belong here; not this tiny, inefficient thing with a low-watt lightbulb inside it... A burning yellow light -- a large flame behind a flowered china shade... the sharp swell of kerosene. That was what should be here... but no one really liked the swell of kerosene... and the lamps were such a bother to clean...

Her own door was as she had left it, slightly ajar, with an electric light left on in the room inside. Welcoming...

... what had she been going to do? Oh, yes -- telephone her uncle about the strange events. She needed his advice. But did she want to go back alone through the silent house, downstairs to the telephone? Would Mrs. Stoddard mind if she went into her room and used her phone? Would Maggie mind if she went in to use hers?

Hesitating there in the hallway, one small hand lightly grasping the worn china doorknob of her own door, she gradually became aware of a coolness against her cheek... a cold draft, ebbing, strengthening, brushing lightly against her face and stirring the feathery tips of her long hair... a draft that was delicately scented with a sweet, flower-like scent. Faintly surprised, she turned her head and was astonished to see that the door to the West Wing -- the one that was always kept locked -- was now open. She wondered for a moment if Mrs. Johnson had perhaps gone in for something while the family was at dinner, but of course that was silly since everything in there was no longer in use.

Hallie stepped to the entrance, reaching out to pull the ancient door shut. A black sliver of darkness showed beyond it... the darkness of the unknown. Almost without realizing it, she opened the door a little more, staring curiously into the uncharted depths as the scent of flowers grew stronger.

Lilacs.

She did not even attempt to fight against the compulsion that swept over her.

* * * * * * * * * *

The darkness surrounded him like an enveloping shroud. familiar, serene. He flexed his mind. testing his strengths, measuring his weaknesses. It would not be long now before he would grow to his full potential. It was so easy... and he was no longer alone. Daphne's presence pleased him -- the presence of another who, like himself, had needed to draw strength from one of the Living. She had shared in his dreams, his plans... he had planned them partly for her. And together, they would soon rule over Collinwood...

... as they had been meant to do.

Awareness -- the girl was approaching, brought on by Their bidding. Each step increased his own power, fed him, sated him. Bit by bit. he drew life from her; her own natural power... her strength... all, all were his. His, and Daphne's.

The Present -- the Past -- the Future -- he could see them all now: could see where the bands of time met and blended and separated again... he watched the Future, where even at this moment he was victorious. He could see what was happening with the man and woman who had dared to think they could defeat him in that time... the Fools. Did they not know he was all-powerful in the Future?

They knew it now. The Future was his.

And so was the woman. The man could not save her now... they would be separated. Separated. their mission would fail. They would not be able to fight against him, alone. He was invincible.

Suddenly he felt the disturbance: he realized they were escaping his power... they were free of him! They had managed to slip back...

Fury soon turned to calm. It did not matter. He would have his chance in the Present instead. And soon. 7'hey would not escape him a second time.

And the girl. He sailed in the darkness, observing as the girl moved in identical spaces in both the Present and the Future... all unaware... So ironic. Identical spaces, but different forms: one flesh, one spirit. Flesh in the Present, but spirit in the Future. They almost moved as one... neither aware of the other.

Soon. they would be as one... when he had accomplished his goal... a future in which only spirits would roam the halls of Collinwood. The Collins line destroyed forever. And he -- he would be Collinwood's unequaled ruler... forever.

He watched within his mind as the girl moved on, unconscious of the bands of time shifting around her; unconscious of the two approaching who had escaped. Let them have their little meeting. It did not matter. They could not stop him now. They would not be free for long. Nor would the girl . It was too late for her.

It was too late for all of them.

* * * * * * * * * *

The sound of her footsteps was muffled in soft mounds of dust, where no one had walked for many a month. Outdoors, the moon had emerged through the clouds, and enough silvery light filtered in through the cobweb-encrusted windows to enable her to see the way. Cobwebs clung to the walls and the abandoned pieces of furniture, and slung themselves tauntingly in her path, wrapping around her hair and slapping against her face. But it was as if she neither could see nor feel them... moving forward entranced, as if in a dream, she could think only of the Door... the special Door she searched for...

All at once, her groping fingers brushed against something that moved, and that toppled to the floor with a startling crash. The sound brought awareness back to her clouded mind, and suddenly, blinking, she looked around and realized what she was doing.

Why was she here? Panicked, she struggled to remember. But it was no use. The last thing she remembered was standing at the entrance to the West Wing, and the clinging fragrance of lilac perfume. She couldn't remember wanting to come here, she couldn't even remember how to go back. Turning, she saw that there were several corridors behind her, and she had no idea which one to choose.

- It was an odd feeling; she reflected, to be lost inside of a house. But there was no one to be afraid of here... she was all alone.

And it was there, while standing irresolutely in the musty corridor, that she heard the sound of voices... voices coming from somewhere just ahead of her, around a corner. Two voices, a man's and a woman's... the woman's moaning faintly, the man's crying out, urging, pleading.

Two voices, in this deserted part of the house. Were they, too, part of the unknown forces that had been frightening her?

Moving forward, Hallie cautiously approached the corner. Holding her breath, she peered around its edge, ready to draw back in a flash if the man should prove to be the one from her dream. Heart pounding, she peered farther... and farther...

... and he was not.

The face that bent over the woman who lay limply in his arms, was a gentle, stricken one; deep-set brown eyes burning with fear and love fixed on the woman's pale face. His dark hair fell in craggy bangs over his aristocratic forehead, and his sad mouth trembled as he begged the woman not to leave him...

...which she did not. Large, luminous brown eyes opened, and color began to seep slowly back into her gaunt but attractive face. Soon she was able to sit up; not long after that she was recovered; and then they both looked up and saw Hallie as she approached.

"Who -- who are you?" Hallie asked. But she already knew the answer... there was only one.

- It was odd, she reflected, scampering after them as they hurried down the corridor after making quick introductions, that even though she had never met either of them before, they had somehow seemed to recognize her. It was only an impression, but she'd found she was seldom wrong about such things. Both had, in fact, stared at her as if they'd seen a ghost. And always whispering to each other...

Suddenly, the woman, Julia, turned around and waited for her to catch up. "You should stay with us," she said, taking the girl's hand in hers with a smile, although her odd, exotic eyes were troubled.

Hallie looked seriously at the woman, sensing her kindness and concern... and her fear. "Can you feel it, too?" she whispered. For suddenly she felt it, the same feeling of Evil she'd felt in her dream. And it was somewhere in the corridor... waiting.

Julia flashed a quick smile "Feel what, Hallie?"

"Nothing," Hallie murmured, feeling a sudden need to protect this kind woman from what she knew was there. "I imagined something, I guess."

Barnabas called, and they both hurried to catch up with him. And so, neither was there to hear the delicate, tinkling strains of the music-box, as it began to play in the rain-washed summer night.

******** THE END********

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