Wolf Moon Rising (24 page)

ing.

“Something went wrong in Quentin’s life, some tragic cir-

cumstance left him discouraged, and he ceased to be a happy

man. He fell into dissolute habits, wandered into the shadowed

dens of opium where he lay for days in a stupor. He ruined

young girls without a crumb of concern, and then he mingled

with criminals and perverts more depraved than he was. He

kept his portrait hidden away, but once by chance I saw it and I

was surprised by its ugliness. All the sins of debauchery that

Quentin had committed were written there— the scars of knife

fi ghts over gambling debts, the tracks of needles, the yellow

complexion from drugs, the hollowed eyes of hate— while he

went unblemished in the world.”

Antoinette was staring at the card still in her hand. “So what

you are telling me is the Quentin I loved was already a mess.”

“Yes. And he was not worthy of you.”

Her body collapsed a little and she cupped her face in her

hands. “Th

ere was something cruel about him.” Barnabas could

see that he had fi nally reached her deeper feelings.

“Still . . . no, I can’t believe it.” She glared at Barnabas. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because . . . because, my dear, the truth is, he would never

have loved you as I do.” As soon as those words were out of his

mouth he regretted them.

But she was not deceived. She looked at him in astonish-

ment. “What is going on here? What are you saying? You don’t

love me at all!”

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“Th

at’s not true.” He realized that he was looking into

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Angelique’s azure eyes and, even sunken in her gaunt face, they

were so like the eyes of his old enemy.

“What is happening to me?” she cried. “Am I going to be a

vampire, too?” She shuddered. “Answer me!”

“Th

ere is that possibility . . .”

Now she was aroused. “So is this it? Are we to be married in

some way? And will you promise stay with me forever? Will we

spend— as you were so fond of saying— our lives bound to-

gether for all eternity?”

Barnabas could hear Angelique’s voice saying those words.

He knew he had been tempting Antoinette, dallying with her

feelings, and suddenly the true reality of their connection came

forth. He hesitated to answer her. She was gaunt and sallow, her

clothes fi lthy and her hair unwashed. In the pale light she could

have been mistaken for a corpse. When he looked at her, he knew

he could not make such a promise, that he was deceiving her. She

was waiting for his answer, glaring at him, but he was too stupe-

fi ed to speak.

She swept the cards off the table and stood up.

“Free me!” she said, suddenly taking him by surprise. “What

do you want with me anyway?”

“Th

is is where my coffi

n has always lain, in your house . . .”

A wrenching sob ripped her throat. “You do know where

the painting is, don’t you?” Knocking over her chair she stared

down at him. “Why won’t you tell me? Are you afraid to admit

that I am still in love with Quentin?”

He was astonished at her outburst, and it pulled him out of

his daze. He thought a moment, then said in a rush of guilt and

pity, “I will release you. As soon as I can care for myself.” He felt relief wash over him as soon as he said the words. “It’s not too

late. I promise to let you go soon. Just not yet.”

But it was not enough for her. “Th

en I will leave you.” She

backed away from him, the cards scattering. “My daughter and

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I can go somewhere else. How can you bear to be with me when

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you know how much I despise you?”

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Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

“My dear, you must think about what you are saying. I just

told you—”

“You are
death
!” She seemed to have acquired unusual vigor, and he realized she must be changing in a way he had dreaded.

She cried out, “You fi ll me with contempt! And I will fi nd a way

to escape! Or I will kill you when you are asleep!” Her eyes

blazed and her body quivered, stronger than before. In a fl ash

he thought how much she resembled Angelique when she was

angry, all the fi re and the venom, and he realized if he were go-

ing to release her it would have to be soon.

She burst into sobs. “Look at me!” she cried, “Are you lis-

tening to me? Do you see this card? Th

is is you! You are Death!”

Th

ere was pounding on the door upstairs, an insistent

knocking, and Antoinette whipped her head around in aston-

ishment. “Who can that be?”

“It’s late,” Barnabas said. “Will you answer it?”

She tried to collect herself. “I never have visitors. Maybe

Jackie . . .”

Th

e pounding resumed and Barnabas said, “Perhaps you

should see who it is.” Finally exasperation, or frustration, got the better of her and she stormed for the stairs. He could just barely

hear the front door opening and voices in the foyer, and he man-

aged, with great discomfort, to pull himself up in his casket

where he could listen.

It was a man’s voice, raspy and rather precise, one he failed

to recognize.

“Good eve ning Antoinette. I am so pleased to fi nd you at

home.”

“Who are you?” she asked, without a hint of graciousness.

“My name is Nathanial Blair. May I come in?”

“Why? What do you want?”

“Please forgive the late hour. Perhaps it is discourteous of

me, but—”

“What ever it is, I’m not interested. Come back tomorrow.”

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“Th

at would be doing you a disser vice. Please, my dear, it’s

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Lara Parker

important. Th

e truth is there is a danger in the neighborhood

you should be made aware of.”

“Danger? What kind?”

“I feel the doorway is not the place to impart this informa-

tion. I would rather be seated in your comfortable drawing

room, by the fi re, perhaps with a glass of sherry.”

“You are pushy. Why should I provide that?”

Barnabas could hear the angry edge in her tone. Also, she

may have been embarrassed by her disheveled state. Since she had

been serving him, she had lost interest in her appearance. But he

thought he heard the door close and the voices grow fainter as they made their way through the foyer. How had the stranger convinced her to admit him? Th

en, inexplicably, he heard her laugh.

Concerned now, Barnabas made the supreme eff ort and

dragged himself from his coffi

n only to have his weakened legs

give way. He could hear the tinkle of glasses in the kitchen, and

once again make out their words. Whether she had given him

sherry, Barnabas was not certain, but they seemed to have seated

themselves in the drawing room.

“I remember this room,” Blair was saying. “I was here many

times with my brother before the tragic fi re and your subse-

quent acquisition of the property. I must say your restoration

takes my breath away. It is perfectly done.”

“It’s for sale,” she said. “Are you interested?”

Blair seemed taken back because he noisily drew in his

breath. “Ah, but it is so beautiful,” he said, “so rich in detail. How could you part with it?”

“Easy,” she said. “I’m sick of living in Collinsport.”

“Well, I can understand that it might be lonely out here in

the country. What is it like, two women living here by your-

selves?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel the need of a man to take care of you?”

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“I could easily fi nd a man to take care of me, as you say, any

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time I wanted.”

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“Yes, I’m sure.”

When she laughed, Barnabas though Blair might be fl irting

with her, as he laughed as well, but his spine stiff ened when he

heard the words
attacked by a wild animal
.

Leaning heavily on his cane, he crept closer to the stairs,

clung to the door jam, and listened with increasing anxiety.

Blair’s tone had become more serious.

“Th

ere was, just last week— I believe it was the night of the

full moon— a vicious murder, the body ripped to shreds and . . .

and eaten. Th

e remains were unrecognizable.”

Antoinette gave a faint moan.

“I would, as I said, not have been suspicious of anything out

of the ordinary, I mean, it could have been dogs, or coyotes,

except for the fact that previous to that night other attacks of a

very diff erent nature had caught my attention. You see, I am a

biologist and a physician, and I have lately begun an investiga-

tion of, well, you might call them, things that go bump in the

night.” He laughed, a raspy cough in his throat, but this time

Antoinette did not respond. “I am writing a book on the super-

natural, you know, ghosts and monsters, creatures of ancient

lore that most people feel are imaginary.”

“You mean like Frankenstein and Dracula.”

“Exactly. But those are books of fi ction. My book is a scien-

tifi c exploration, true to the facts.”

“I see.” She sounded interested. “And what are these attacks

of a diff erent nature?”

Barnabas began to sense that some danger was close at hand.

Who was this man and what did he know? Blair answered her in

a manner that made Barnabas recoil with alarm.

“I am convinced,” he said in a low voice, “that there is a

vampire among us.”

“A what?”

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I know it is incredible, and diffi

cult

for you to accept, but I have examined the corpses, puncture

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wounds on the neck, bodies drained of blood.”

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Barnabas tried to remember how many victims there had

been since his transformation, not to mention Julia’s wild hunt-

ing. He had not been aware of any arousing suspicion. Who was

this man and what did he want? He did not seem to be a law

offi

cer, but something more threatening. Worried what Antoi-

nette would say, he tried to connect to her thoughts. Th

is was

clearly her chance to expose him.

“So you hope to track down this vampire?” was all she said,

but there was just the hint of sarcasm in her voice. “But, why?”

“It is my intention to devote all my resources to this investi-

gation,” Blair continued in a tone that was even more intimate,

as if he and Antoinette were old friends. “For too long vampires

have been the stuff of myth and legend. Are they real? I believe

they are. And evil. Evil creatures that should not walk the earth.

Th

ey are dead, don’t you see? But still moving among the living.

Doomed to feed on the blood of others, but immortal. In truth,

they do not deserve to exist, and they have harnessed some dark

power for their purposes. Do you have any idea what it would

mean monetarily, and in terms of my reputation as a scientist, to

actually trap one, dead perhaps, but much better alive— as only

they are alive— and conduct an exploration of his physiology?

Imagine what I might fi nd! Th

e prospect is electrifying to me.”

Barnabas heard Antoinette draw in her breath and he tried

to prepare himself for the worst, what must be a confrontation if

she were to betray him. Stifl ing groans of pain, he drew himself

up two of the stairs, but he was too weak to move further. How,

if need be, could he summon the power to extinguish the life of

this nosy interloper?

But what she said was rather innocent. “Where would you

perform this experiment, as you call it?”

“Oh, I have established a laboratory at Collinwood. Eliza-

beth Stoddard had granted me use of the old laundry, called

Rose Cottage, I believe. It is a small room that is both effi

cient

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and private. I have set up tables with my instruments and lights

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and I am prepared to restrain the vampire, when I have captured

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Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

him, with metal cuff s attached to a gurney. Th

en I will conduct

some tests.”

Barnabas was aghast. Th

is was a fi end of a diff erent sort,

someone to be reckoned with— and removed. And yet he did

not even know who he was or what he looked like. He sum-

moned Antoinette again, but she ignored him.

“What does this have to do with me?” she asked.

“Why, you and your daughter are enticing victims. If the

vampire were to discover you here, alone, with no one to protect

you, you might be vulnerable, don’t you think? What I propose

is that I remain here, in some upstairs room— I believe there are