Luciaphil

An Angel When She Sleeps

"We have a guest, Willie," Barnabas walked into the drawing room of the Old House.

Willie Loomis nearly dropped a lighted candelabrum onto the carpet. "You told me you were gonna go slow with Vicki Winters."

Barnabas smiled obliquely, "I believe I was premature in selecting Miss Winters. She is charming, but I have found someone even lovelier to be the new Josette."

"Who?" Willie decided to set the matches down before he set the house on fire.

"I don’t know her name. It doesn’t matter."

"Is she from around here?"

Barnabas dismissed this, "That hardly signifies".

The migraine headache that was now a daily visitor to his brain started knocking again. "It does if someone comes looking for her." Willie couldn’t figure Barnabas out sometimes.

Barnabas turned his back to Willie as he usually did when he knew he was wrong. "I don’t believe she was from the area. There was a great deal of luggage in her car. Presumably she was passing through Collinsport."

"Car? What did you do with her car?" Willie asked panic stricken. They could hide a girl, but a car? It was like dealing with a kid sometimes--a powerful kid who bit people when he didn’t get his way.

"Nothing. She hit a tree in the woods. I removed her from the automobile and brought her here."

"Is she hurt?" What was Barnabas thinking just picking up accident victims?

"Badly bruised, but she will recover. I regretted having to cause the accident; she is so lovely."

"You . . . caused her car to crash." Willie resisted the impulse to pound his head against the wall.

"I had no choice. When I saw her at the filling station, I knew she was perfect. Oh Willie, you will understand when you see her."

I just bet I will, his servant thought. He decided against following up the remark about the gas station. The less I know the better.

"I must go to her now. Tomorrow you will attend her. I do not anticipate any trouble; she is such a delicate, fragile looking creature. All the same, you will keep her door locked."

* * *

Barnabas gazed upon the recumbent form of his newest Josette. He looked at her red-gold hair and ivory skin with great satisfaction. The innocence and purity of her expression brought to mind his lost Josette. Unlike Maggie, this beauty looked as if she did indeed truly belong to his time. He bent over and made her his.

* * *

Edith Hadley dropped her bridge hand. "Something is very wrong."

Her fellow players exchanged glances. Richard, her partner and distant cousin, couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief. He didn’t care for the game.

Anna, however, frowned. "This wouldn’t be because you have a bad hand, would it?"

Robert Hadley hid a smile. Edith did dislike losing.

Edith paid no attention. She concentrated. "It’s Violet. She’s in trouble."

Everyone grew chilly with worry.

* * *

Violet Hadley drowsily awoke. She felt as if a construction crew was drilling her head open. With a groan, she sat up. She discovered she was clad in what appeared to be an 18^th century gown. ‘A four letter word of Anglo-Saxon derivation’ escaped her lips. She fell back down again.

She was lying on a canopy bed wearing a period gown, she realized. She moaned again and clutched her head. Violet took a deep breath, wincing in pain as she did so, and forced herself into a sitting position. She looked around the room. The furnishings were elegant, obviously antiques, but too dainty for her personal taste. Then she saw the portrait over the mantel. She just happened to be wearing the same dress as it’s subject, a pretty, rather vacuous looking woman. Violet swore again.

Right, she thought. One minute, she was driving and someone was standing in the middle of the road. The next she swerved and hit the tree. Now she was in someone’s bedroom wearing this bizarre dress. Oh this is definitely not good. Anyone normal would have taken her to hospital. No, her "rescuer" brings me home to play Barbie.

With great difficulty Violet got up and walked. She felt incredibly sore but made it to the dressing table. She inspected her face in the mirror. Aside from an ugly bruise on her forehead, the rest of it appeared untouched. Her neck, however, had two puncture wounds. She checked over the rest of her body for cuts, but found nothing but more bruises. Nothing from the car accident could have caused the wounds that she could imagine.

Violet made for the door. The handle slowly turned. She retreated quickly to the bed and feigned unconsciousness.

"Josette."

Violet decided to stir faintly. Presumably this man was addressing her?

"Josette, my darling. Please wake up." The man’s voice had a vaguely British tone to it. He sounded cultured, older.

What was the appropriate response? Violet didn’t want to set him off, given that she had no idea with what she was dealing. She guessed at the very least, mental instability. Harkening back to the few Gothic romances she’d once read in desperation, she murmured, "Where am I?" Silly ass question but perhaps it would elicit a useful response.

"You’re safe my darling. Safe, here with me."

Violet had been hoping for a more concrete answer like 117 Main Street. She slowly opened her eyes, "Who are you?"

"It’s Barnabas. You’ve had an accident. Your carriage overturned." Barnabas appeared to be a gauntly handsome man in his forties. He wore a modern suit.

Right, she thought, then why aren’t you in knee breeches? "I don’t remember anything," she lied.

Relief washed over his saturnine features to be quickly replaced with reassurance. "It’s all right, my darling Josette. It will return to you in time." He clasped her to his chest.

Violet gasped aloud in pain. Barnabas seemed oblivious to this and began kissing her. Ugh. A number of moves occurred to her, but she knew she didn’t have the strength to fight him off. His attention drifted southward to her neck. His hands thankfully, although painfully placed, remained stationary. Suddenly she felt his teeth sink deep into her neck.

Surprisingly, after the initial attack, the sensation was actually quite pleasurable. But then Violet felt him drinking her blood. This is just absolutely too sodding bizarre for words, she thought.

When Barnabas finished, he spoke, "Now you must rest, my Josette. You are Josette." He paused and looked at her expectantly.

"Yes," she answered. Give the bugger what he wants.

"Listen to your music box. It will help you."

She was lying here bleeding and a music box would help her? Aloud, she replied, "Yes."

He lifted the lid of a pretty crystal and gilt object. An old-fashioned melody issued forth. A cock crowed. Could they be on or near a farm? He looked to the curtained window and left hurriedly.

Violet smiled. At least now, she knew with what she was dealing. Violet decided not to fight her need for sleep.

* * *

Interview With a Vampire’s Servant

Violet Hadley awoke to the sounds of someone puttering around the room. She pulled herself up. Her body felt a good deal less sore. "Hello".

Her new visitor spun around. Violet looked him over critically. The young man practically screamed small-time con. Policemen and security guards the world over probably instantly recognized him as being a wrong ‘un. Violet also wondered if he had a rap sheet as a sex offender.

"Uh, Miss Josette, you should get your rest."

Right, like I’m going to fall asleep with you in the room, she thought. "Who are you?"

"I’m Willie. Now you should be asleep." He hated this. At least, he didn’t know this girl. She sounded more English than Barnabas—so maybe she had been just traveling through Collinsport.

"I’m hungry."

"You’re hungry after what Barnabas did to you?" He was stunned.

"Starving. Can you get me some breakfast? The works, if possible. And what time is it anyway?"

"Uh. About nine. Yeah, I’ll get you some breakfast." He gave her one last look of perplexity. As he shut the door, she heard a lock click.

After waiting a few minutes, Violet got up and thanked God for her rather unique family heritage. There were definite advantages to being a Hadley. She quickly surveyed her prison cell. Antique furniture or not, it was one. The windows looked out on a depressingly grim section of what was hopefully Maine forest. With a bit of difficulty, she raised a window and stuck her head out. Damn, she was on an upper floor. The walls below were devoid of anything remotely useful like ivy, drainpipe or latticework. She shut the window. Strike that.

There was a door of sorts leading to a small dressing room. She saw an old fashioned bathtub and a wash stand. No running water. Right, she thought, furniture Sotheby’s would kill for but no plumbing. There was no sign of her clothing or for that matter, anyone else’s.

Violet carefully closed the dressing room door and went to the one through which Willie had left. She examined the lock and for the first time, smiled. She could pick this easily, she thought. Of course there remained the question of what awaited her beyond the door. Her demon lover was out of commission during the day. While Violet believed she could take on Willie easily, it would be nice to know if there were any other inhabitants in the house. She also needed to know where she was.

When her jailer cautiously opened the door, he found Violet sitting demurely on the settee. Willie brought in a small table and then a tray.

Whatever skills this Willie possessed, cooking was not one of them. She attacked the food ravenously anyway. He made as if to leave. "Please stay."

"I’m not supposed to talk to you, Miss Josette."

Violet ignored this, "You’re a servant. I take it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he shifted his feet.

"Is there a maid here?"

"Nah." Willie watched the new "Josette" incredulously as she took another large forkful of burnt scrambled eggs. After Barnabas had bitten him, the last thing he wanted to do was eat. This lady couldn’t seem to stop.

"Then who undressed me?" Please, she thought, do not let it be you.

Willie turned scarlet. "Barnabas," he muttered.

Not much better, but she could deal with that. "Where are my clothes?"

"You’re wearing them."

"Obviously. But I can’t just wear this dress day after day. Especially not after sleeping in it."

"Uh. She did bef . . . I don’t know." Willie clamped up like a vise. Alarm bells clanged in his head. If he didn’t know better, he would say Barnabas hadn’t done anything to her.

Oh God. So this was a regular activity here? How many other women had these losers kidnapped? "Perhaps there is someone else here who would know."

"Nah, it’s just me. You can ask Barnabas when he comes back. Now I gotta go."

"Very well. I’ll be done with breakfast in a half and hour. I’d like lunch at 1:00 if that’s convenient."

"Okay."

"Oh and if you could find me something to read, I’d appreciate it."

"Uh, sure." He fled.

Violet moved to the vanity and examined her neck. The punctures had begun to close over. Presumably than this was Day One of captivity. By the time Barnabas returned, the wounds would be healed. Regrettably, the rest of her bruises were still with her.

* * *

Richard Hadley entered the library to find Edith pouring over a variety of maps spread out on the table. She looked up at him. "Well?"

"We found her car smashed into a tree on a back road." He glanced at a map and pointed to the spot. "We didn’t find any blood, thankfully and it appears that she could have just walked away."

"No," Edith stated flatly.

"I agree actually, because her handbag and luggage are still in the car. Shall I call the police?"

"Are you mad?"

"They have their uses. We’ve nothing to hide about Violet’s disappearance," he pointed out reasonably.

"No. We’ll find her ourselves."

* * *

It Can't Mean That Much to You Judy

Barnabas fingered the emerald necklace he had once tried to give to Maggie. "And how is Josette, Willie?"

"She ain’t nothing like Maggie, Barnabas," Willie worried.

Barnabas Collins gave his servant a look of irritation. "Naturally not. That is what drew me to her. This creature is a lady, possessed of great elegance and beauty." He snapped the jewel case shut.

"I mean she’s behaving kinda weird," Willie explained.

"Oh?" Barnabas wasn’t really listening. He began moving for the stairs.

"I mean she woke up real early and demanded breakfast. And then she asked me all kinds of questions. And you should have seen the lunch and dinner she put away. I’m gonna have to go out for more groceries. Oh and she made me bring her a book to read."

"Indeed?" Really Willie was too transparent, all that blathering just to get the evening off. "Very well. You may go to town. As for the rest, I will attend to it."

* * *

"Well?" Edith Hadley demanded.

Anna, her companion, shook her head, "Nothing so far. I took care of the mechanic. He’ll keep his mouth shut." She made as if to leave the room.

"What is it you’re not telling me?"

"The tracks we found . . ."

"Yes?"

"We followed them to the Collins estate."

Edith leaned back in her chair. "Do they?" She brought the tips of her fingers together. "Violet’s a resourceful girl. I think she’ll be fine for the moment. I don’t want to upset anything unnecessarily." She grabbed the map. "See what you can get out of Sarah Johnson. I doubt she knows anything but occasionally Sarah does have something useful to contribute. Do not let on that Violet is missing." Edith pointed to various places on the map. "Position people here and here and here around the estate. We give it one more day and then we move in."

* * *

"Good evening my dear."

Violet carefully marked her place in volume I of The Mysteries of Udolpho and set the book on the occasional table. "Good evening."

Barnabas approached the settee. "You are looking very lovely, my dear." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, "I have something for you." He opened up the jeweler’s box.

Violet gasped.

"You like it?" Barnabas smiled, pleased.

It had to be worth at least $25,000, she thought. More, maybe if she fenced the emeralds singly. "It’s beautiful." Violet allowed him to fasten the necklace around her slim neck.

Barnabas half knelt adoringly. "Oh my darling Josette," he began.

"Before you get into all that, we need to talk."

"I beg your pardon."

"You’d best get off the floor."

His voice took on a commanding tone. "You must do as I say. You are Josette."

"No I am not. I am a practical person, however, and I’m willing to play along with your little Josette fantasy. We do need to discuss some practical matters first."

"You will do as I command," he intoned.

Oh dear, he was going to be tiresome. "I’ve seen ‘Dracula’ and you’re wasting your time. Look at my neck."

Barnabas did so. "But that’s impossible. It’s as if I’d never . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Bitten me, yes I know. I have rather a special resistance to your kind of attack."

"That’s impossible!"

Violet laughed, "You’re a vampire! I would have thought you would have an open mind." Her would-be suitor continued to look blank. Violet decided to try her plan, while he was off balance. "Well, that’s sorted out," she said glibly, knowing it wasn’t. "Now, first of all, I’ll need some more clothes."

"Clothes?"

"Yes. This dress is very pretty, but I can hardly wear it day after day, can I? I mean, I realize I am making an assumption, but you weren’t just going to kill me straight off?"

"No, of course not," he said startled.

"That’s good to know," she told Barnabas. "Since that is the case, logically, I’ll need some other dresses. A nightgown would be nice too. Can that be managed or do you only have the one period gown? Or," she continued, "I could wear my own clothes during the day and wear this for you."

Her captor looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I’ll see what I can do," he managed to get out.

"Now secondly, and I do realize this is a minor point, but I’ll need some better reading material. Ann Radcliffe is just not going to cut it. Have you got any Jane Austen perhaps?"

Barnabas weakly shook his head. Who was Jane Austen?

You’re not used to them talking back, are you? Violet fought the urge to tell him. "Well, we’ll work on that. What I think would be most helpful is a little background on this Josette. I might as well know how I’m supposed to act around you. Oh and one other thing. I want to be absolutely crystal clear on this—I don’t mind the kissing and the er . . . neck biting but there’s to be no actual sex. That’s non-negotiable."

She smiled brightly at Barnabas, who continued to stare at her as if she had five heads. A not very pleasant expression began to wash over his face. A menacing sneer now replaced his original look of almost fatuous adoration. Violet quaked inwardly, wondering if she’d miscalculated.

"Tell me, why should you go along with, how did you put it? my ‘little Josette fantasy’?"

"I spent the better part of today trying to find a way to escape. It was fruitless. I have no idea where I am and unfortunately no one is going to be looking for me any time soon," she lied. "As I said before, I am a very practical person."

"I see." He looked unconvinced.

Damn. "Obviously you don’t believe me. But I can’t help that. Would it hurt to try it my way? Why don’t you tell me about Josette? She clearly meant a lot to you."

* * *

At least she had her own clothes back, her reward for sitting through the saga of Josette without retching, she supposed. What a ninny! Although, Violet reflected more charitably, she only had her abductor’s perspective to go by. And Lord knows, that was warped.

"You must become Josette. Think like her. Feel like her. It should not be too difficult. You have many of the same qualities," he had told her.

Violet rather doubted that.

"Josette was the epitome of all that is womanly. She possessed the beauty and grace of a delicate flower."

Delicate flowers usually got trampled. Or in this case, they threw themselves off cliffs. Barnabas was rather vague about Josette’s reasons for rejecting him.

He went on ad infinitum. Violet Hadley knew one thing. Barnabas Collins didn’t know much about women. Scarily enough, a few times during that unbelievably saccharine narrative, Violet had actually felt sorry for him. He kept killing these impulses though by eulogizing the soppy Josette. But story hour was over now and he had given her clothes back to her until Willie could unearth the other gowns from the attic. Violet didn’t plan on being there that long. He let slip his surname quite casually. Collins. That explained a lot. And it meant she had to be on the estate somewhere. Finding her way off it would be extremely simple.

Violet was relieved he didn’t have her handbag. He would have no way of tracing her. Unfortunately, the lack of its’ contents meant she’d be making her own lockpicks from the proverbial hairpins. Thankfully, Violet wore her hair up. Barnabas preferred it down. Violet pointed to the portrait. She got her hairpins. Regrettably, her pockets yielded nothing more useful than a lipstick. Well, she’d made do with less before.

Violet fingered the necklace again. At least she’d have this little souvenir to make up for dealing with this insanity.

* * *

It Takes a Thief

Barnabas ascended the staircase with anticipation. Initially, he had been skeptical about the girl--that extraordinary speech. He disliked these 20^th century women with their unfeminine ways and their unhealthy thirst for dominance. While he respected intelligence, he felt that a lady should use it becomingly. And perhaps this girl could be taught to do so. Then too, the thought of not having to roam the town for victims when he could slake his thirst upon her nightly pleased him more than anything had in a long time.

He entered Josette’s room. Why was it pitch black? Willie was supposed to light the candles at dusk. Well, he would tend to him later. Barnabas lit the candles. To his utter shock, Willie lay naked except for his boxer shorts, gagged, spread-eagled and tied to the bed. He spun around but the girl was gone.

When Willie saw his face, he was relieved that Barnabas didn’t have his cane. Barnabas removed the gag and untied him. "I trust you have an explanation."

"I was in the kitchen making breakfast and she came up from behind me. She dragged me up here."

"And you let her!?!"

"She said she’d break my spine if I didn’t cooperate."

Barnabas sneered, "Do you expect me to believe that a mere slip of a girl could do that to you? And how did she get out of her room?"

Willie swung his feet over the bed and got up. He stretched his arms. "That girl could have killed me with her little finger. She told me she picked the lock. I wonder where she put my clothes."

"And when did you have this conversation?"

"When I came to, she was tying me to the bed." Willie checked the dressing room armoire. "Nope, just Josette’s dress."

"You’re taking this very calmly, Willie. By now the police are probably on their way."

"Oh, I don’t think we have to worry about that."

"Well, that is reassuring," Barnabas said sarcastically. "Nonetheless, I’m afraid I will have to kill her."

Willie smiled, "Oh yeah? How?"

"What do you mean ‘how’? Really Willie, your stupidity amazes me."

Willie’s grin broadened. "I mean do ya know her name? I don’t think she goes by ‘Josette’ normally. And do ya know where she lives? I didn’t see nothing in the papers about her being missing. Besides, she’s not gonna go to the cops."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. People like her don’t talk to the cops." Barnabas looked like thunder, so Willie hastened to explain. "You see this?" he picked up a piece of wire from the floor by the door. "She picked the lock with this. And that girl had me on the kitchen floor in minutes. You picked up a crook, Barnabas. What are you looking at?" Barnabas was staring at the mirror. Willie walked over to the dressing table. He saw the mirror and started chuckling.

"What are you laughing at?" Barnabas demanded.

Willie tried without success to maintain a straight face. So Barnabas wasn’t invincible after all. It gave him hope. He read the message neatly printed on the mirror with a lipstick:

"Barnabas,

So sorry I had to leave, but I’ve seen ‘Vertigo’ and didn’t much care for the ending. Why don’t you find yourself a real woman? By the way, thanks for the necklace. I’ll remember you always.

‘Your darling Josette’"

"She took Josette’s necklace!" Barnabas was shocked.

"Yeah, well we won’t see that again." Willie saw Barnabas start to speak. "What are ya gonna do? Call the cops? Trust me, it’s gone for good."

Barnabas tried to attain some composure. "This note makes no sense. How can you see vertigo?"

Willie started laughing outright, "It’s a movie." He prudently decided not to reveal the plot.

Barnabas waited impatiently for Willie to regain a straight face. With icy fury dripping from each syllable, he spoke, "I am going to Collinwood to see Miss Winters. While I am gone, you are to obliterate every last trace of that creature’s visit. And if you ever refer to her again in any way, I will inflict upon you such pain that you will rue the day you were ever born."

* * *

Violet Hadley finished recounting her story to her assembled relatives.

"Well, now we know what happened to Maggie Evans," Anna muttered.

"Willie claims she’s the only girl they’ve actually abducted, besides me. Now what do we do?"

Edith said nothing.

Richard Hadley put down the emerald necklace, quite a nice little prize, he thought. "As much as I believe in non-involvement with the police, I think we have to do something. We cannot let this sort of behavior go on."

"We could simply kill him," Violet suggested. "Willie refused to tell me where the coffin was, but it can’t be that hard to find."

"No, I understand what you’re all saying, but we can’t do that. The balance we have here is too delicate. I’ll call a meeting. We’ll put some defensive measures in place. He won’t kidnap a local again."

* * *

Carolyn Stoddard walked into the drawing room. "Has Barnabas left?" she asked Roger Collins.

"Yes, kitten. I must say he was in a very strange mood."

"How do you mean?"

Roger poured himself a brandy. "Well, it was very odd. He wanted me to tell him the plot of ‘Vertigo’."

"Really?" Carolyn was surprised. She thought Barnabas didn’t care for movies.

"Yes and after I finished, he simply got up and stalked out of the house."

Carolyn shrugged, "Not everyone likes Alfred Hitchcock, I guess."

The End