Wolf Moon Rising (17 page)

Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

He had meant to make it his purpose to unearth the Collins

mysteries, and he had begun the morning fl ush with curiosity

and excitement. Now this Blair was stealing his fi re, and threat-

ening Barnabas at the same time.

“But why should we share our family secrets with you, even

if there were any?” said his cousin in a petulant tone.

Blair looked directly at Carolyn, and his appraisal of her in

her short dress was more than obvious. His voice dropped an

octave, almost as if he were fl irting.

“I understand why you are cautious. In fact, I expected it

from the younger members of the family. But, my dear, I mean

you no harm. On the contrary, I only want to bring a little ex-

citement into your lives. Wouldn’t you like that?”

He had struck home. “But why us?” she said with a note of

defi ance.

Blair turned his attention back to the family.

“Did it ever occur to you that these many misfortunes you

have endured are no fault of your own, were precipitated by no

misdeeds or miscalculations, but are the result of a curse placed

on the family long ago?”

“A curse? What ever do you mean?” asked Elizabeth ner-

vous ly.

“A curse that manifests in various ways, but refuses to be

dislodged. An illustrious ancestry such as yours deserves its place in the New En gland accounts of great families, rather than to

be hidden away in shame.”

“Th

at’s all very well,” said Roger sternly, “but we have no

intention of sharing our family history with a complete stranger.

Our misfortunes, and I’m not saying we have any, are no busi-

ness of yours.”

“Even if I uncover evidence that could defame your name

even further? Th

e papers love scandals, especially among the

rich.”

Roger’s face grew red. “Exactly what are you threatening us

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with? Blackmail?”

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Blair continued, unabated. “I propose a trade. You allow me

to investigate your family, cooperate with my inquiries, and I

will do everything in my power to clear your name and release

you from your unfortunate enchantment.”

“How would you propose to do that?”

“Th

e fi rst thing I would like to try is a séance. Th

e dead

have more to tell us than the living. Besides, they can be rather

amusing.”

“Oh my dear man, don’t be absurd.” Roger shrugged and

turned away again.

“Why do you say that? Do you deny that some of you have

taken part in such mystical journeys in the past? Th

e fact is, ser-

vants who worked in this house and witnessed the proceedings

have found their tongues loosed at the local Blue Whale, and

many a laugh has been had at your expense.” In the foyer Willie

cast a worried look in Mrs. Johnson’s direction before staring at

the fl oor.

Quentin came forward. “Whom in the past would you try

to contact?”

“Stop it, Quentin! I refuse to hear any more of this gib-

berish.”

“Come, come Roger, you know as well as I do that there

have been séances held in this very room. Why deny it. Th

e man

obviously knows a lot about us.”

“To our disadvantage, I’m sure.”

“For my own reasons,” Blair continued, “I would like to

journey to the year 1929, where I might make contact with a cer-

tain Jamison Collins, your father, Roger.”

“And may I ask why?”

“Something occurred, during the Depression, that could

clarify everything.”

“Nineteen twenty- nine,” repeated Quentin, and David no-

ticed that he was staring at Elizabeth. She caught his eye, stood,

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and turned away. Her reaction was so unusual that David

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thought there must be some secret between them and he studied

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her more closely, but her face was calm and without expression.

Nathanial Blair spoke to him directly, jolting his musings.

“So, David, do you accept the challenge? How would you

like to help me fi nd the vampire? You are young and strong and

well suited to become a detective.”

“A what?” He turned to look at Blair, who was now staring

at him with a mischievous smile, more like a smirk, which gave

David an uneasy feeling. Or maybe it was his high forehead and

pronounced widow’s peak. Th

ere was nothing about the man on

the surface that seemed suspicious; on the contrary, he was su-

premely pleasant, but David felt an odd distrust. Blair’s enthusi-

asm seemed forced, and there was a neediness about him that

made David uncomfortable.

“Surely you know of these valiant types,” Blair said in his

fl at voice, “young men with goodness and strength, who have

an uncanny power to rid the world of evil. Heroes, I think they

are called.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” said David. “You

are completely wrong about us. Th

ere are no ghosts, goblins, or

vampires in our family and you are insulting us to say so.”

Blair raised his eyebrows. “Your anger surprises me. Perhaps

you have something to hide. Someone you are trying to protect.”

David’s heart jumped when he thought of Jackie. “I don’t.

And I resent your accusations. Who do you think you are, burst-

ing in here with no invitation and assuming gossip about us is

true?”

“Do you doubt my sincerity? Or my credentials?”

“Yes. I think you are a fake.”

“David, you mustn’t be rude.” Elizabeth spoke in calming

tones. “Mr. Blair has only said he wanted to be of help.”

“I can see what he wants. He wants to write a book about the

supernatural and tell a lot of lies about us. He wants to portray us as weirdoes in order to make money, and—”

Quentin broke in. “David may have a point. You may be a

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charlatan taking advantage of a reclusive family, but we have

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a way to test your expertise. I will take part in your séance, Mr.

Blair. When do you propose to stage it?” His face was bruised,

David was certain, and his eyes bloodshot.

“Why, this week, or next. At your con ve nience,” answered

Blair, ignoring David’s cold stare.

Quentin glowered back at him and said, “I would choose as

soon as possible, and”— he drew closer to Blair and spoke in a

low voice—“I have a question for you, Dr. Blair. If you discover

this vampire you believe exists and manage to do what ever you

do with him, trap him, arrest him—”

“Stake him.”

“Th

en what will you do? Turn his body over to the authori-

ties?”

Blair chuckled, a dry sound in his throat. “Hardly. Like the

curious doctor that I am”— almost a whisper—“I will perform

an autopsy.”

Roger led Blair out, and David was on his way to the stairs

when he heard Quentin say something to Elizabeth. Curi-

ous, he drew back and paused behind the door to listen. Th

rough

the crack he could see that everyone else had left the room and

Quentin was standing behind Elizabeth, quite close to her,

speaking to her in a quiet voice and in a tone that sounded oddly

intimate. “A séance,” he said, leaning in toward her. “Back to

1929. Shall we take part, Elizabeth?” He reached for her hand,

but, looking quickly around, she drew it away.

Still, she smiled at him, a wistful expression tinged with

humor, a warmth David had never seen before in her face. “A

séance? What would that possibly mean to us?”

“How can you ask that?” said Quentin, his tone still secre-

tive. “Don’t you remember? A man and a girl who believed they

had found the world when they found one another.”

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David had never heard any expression of love spoken in his

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family, so he was not sure he was hearing one now. He eased

closer to the crack, hoping to hear more.

“Would you come?” Quentin whispered.

“But that’s foolish. Th

e purpose of a séance— however ab-

surd that is— is to make contact with the dead, not to escape into

the past.”

“But you know it can happen. We could slip through. Tell

me you aren’t intrigued.”

“Quentin, you must let all that go. Th

ose . . . lovers disap-

peared into the pages of memory.”

“On the contrary, they are as alive as yesterday.”

“All changed.”

“No, she is still here. Th

e girl who ruined me forever for any

other woman.”

“Please. Don’t speak of it. Th

ere have been a hundred lovers

since then.”

Quentin’s voice was tender. “And only one I will never for-

get.”

David was intrigued. Who did Elizabeth mean by
lovers
?

Intrigued now, David leaned in closer and watched Quen-

tin walk to the window and stare out at the falling snow. “I re-

member that night, the excitement of it all. Th

e trees in bloom,”

he said, “the ground strewn with petals that had fallen like

snow? Th

e night of your nineteenth birthday after the ball in the

east wing. Th

at part of the house now shut away? Don’t you re-

member the music? Th

at marvelous car?”

David was startled when Elizabeth rose, her voice breaking

into a sob. “I remember the heartbreak, the horrible things that

happened, the sacrifi ce—” She took a breath as though it pained

her. “You know I am old now.”

“No older than I.”

“But look at you! Whereas for me the years have taken their

toll, you . . . you seem to remain always in the fl ower of youth—

dashing, fi t.” She looked at him helplessly, but then her

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expression clouded over. “Although this morning I must admit

you seem exhausted. Are you ill?”

Quentin turned to her, his features drawn. “Elizabeth, I

must talk to you. I need your guidance. My life has taken a bad

turn.”

But Elizabeth, growing restless, looked over to see David

standing in the foyer, and she rose and withdrew hurriedly, re-

marking in her formal manner, “I must go through my mail,

Quentin. Please excuse me.”

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E i g h t

It was after midnight and the fl attened moon hovered outside

of David’s window when he was awakened by a soft knock

on his door. It was his aunt Elizabeth in a long white night-

gown, her hair hanging down her back like a girl’s. She was

carry ing a candle and the fl ame’s pale glimmer fl ickered across

her worried features.

“David,” she said, “could you come with me? Th

ere is an odd

noise downstairs.”

Groggy, but pleased to have been called on to help, David

followed her into the hall. He stood with her for a moment lis-

tening, and then he heard it, too.

Th

ere was a pounding like a heartbeat deep within the

house, as if someone or something was trying to break in. When

all was silent, he waited, until he assumed the sound had been

his imagination, but then a shudder passed through the walls,

and the pounding began again.

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“Do you hear it?” she asked in a shaky voice.

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“Yes.” David was only in his pajamas, and he began to

shiver.

“What do you think it could be?”

“Perhaps someone at the door? Let’s go down.”

David ventured into the dark hallway determined to fi nd

the source of the sound. His aunt followed him down the long

corridor from her bedroom to the stair, her robe fl owing about

her ankles, her feet bare on the parquet fl oor.

Someone was at the entrance; he thought it might be some

stranger in need of shelter or aid, due to an accident perhaps. For some reason he was trembling, and he told himself not to be

afraid as he tiptoed down the stair in the dark to the landing, and paused to listen again.

Th

e pounding continued, muffl

ed but insistent.

When his aunt descended to the landing, a blast of cold air

whipped her robe away from her gown and extinguished her

light.

“Stay there,” said David, “and I’ll have a look.”

Th

e front door had been fl ung open by the wind, and snow

had blown over the threshold and carpeted the foyer. It was like

ice on his bare feet as David walked to the double doors and

looked out. He waited for the pounding to begin again, but the

air was blanketed in a deep silence. Th

ere was only the stillness