Julia Hoffman's disappointment was not such that she would let it interfere with the experiment. She had hidden her feelings for so long that it was more painful to show them than to conceal them. It had been humiliating to let him know how she felt especially as she was alone in her affection.
She tapped the syringe to let the air bubble rise to the top to be expelled and waited for Barnabas to finish rolling up his sleeve.
"Two more injections after this one, doctor?" he asked, noticing how the injections had grown increasingly painful.
"Yes, I believe so." She avoided his eyes, that concerned frown made her depression all the more keen, all the more embarrassing. She watched him roll his sleeve back down, then gathered up her medical equipment.
"Thank you, Julia." Barnabas hated the uncomfortable silence. He owed her so much, and he knew she must think him ungrateful and unfeeling. "I am sorry, you know," he said quickly, "I wish I had known that—"
"Why should you be sorry?" she said smoothly, glancing once into his dark eyes. "You'll be cured permanently in a couple of days." Free to marry Maggie Evans, she thought bitterly.
"I'm very grateful, Julia." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I, um, must be going." He straightened his coat nervously. "I'll see you later." Julia nodded, looking down.
Barnabas stepped out into the hall and stopped when he saw Willie Loomis standing near the door. "Why aren't you working?" he asked impatiently before continuing on his way.
Willie shrugged. "I just came to see how it was goin'," he said to the other's retreating back. He turned to go into the room with Julia. Saying nothing, he stared at her as she gazed thoughtfully out the window. Poor Dr. Hoffman, he thought, she had just closed her eyes to everything that was going on. Willie had been tempted to warn her that Barnabas loved Maggie, but while she had never been cruel to him, he knew she would not have taken well any such warning from him. It had been easier to avoid noticing that she was in love with Barnabas. The other man's plans for Maggie were enough to keep him thoroughly worried.
"Oh, Willie," Julia said as she noticed him standing near the door. "What is it?"
"Huh? Oh, nothin'. I was just, uh, wonderin' how much longer till Barnabas is cured?"
She sighed, crossing her arms. "About two days, I think." She returned his stare until he looked away. "Come here a moment. I want to check that cut and make sure it's healing properly."
"It's—I'm fine, Dr. Hoffman. You don't need to look at it." He backed into the hall to leave. He didn't want her to touch it. Although it was healing and the bruises were fading, the left side of his face was still very sore.
"Willie, come back here."
"It's okay, doctor. I—I got work to do."
She did not feel like arguing with him about it and let him go.
Willie went back to the kitchen where he had been working. He was glad she had not forced him to stay; he did not want to get into trouble. He did not know if she would report him to Barnabas, but thought she probably would not. She had, after all, been upset by what Barnabas had done to him. Somehow that had surprised him. Now he barely remembered her shouting at Barnabas. What he did remember was—
"Willie!"
He stiffened in momentary panic, then hurried out to see what was wanted of him now. Barnabas stood in the foyer, caped and ready to go out.
"There you are. I've decided I want you to begin work in the master bedroom."
"Not Josette's room?" Willie asked, surprised. The other's cold gaze chilled his curiosity. "Okay, Barnabas. I'll get started tonight."
"Good. I'll be back before long, and then you may retire."
Willie nodded. "All right." He went to get a few tools and a glass of water and headed up the stairs toward the huge master bedroom. What could Barnabas be thinking now? Perhaps he was tired of the little room he had been sleeping in since he no longer needed his coffin and wanted something grander.
The door creaked, and he oiled the hinges. His shoulders slumped when he saw all the work he would have to do. He went to get some candles.
"I'm not sure what effect this will have on you, Barnabas, but you're bound to experience some physical sensations." Julia held up the syringe containing the final injection. Her hands were shaking slightly. This could kill him, she kept thinking.
He watched her face, as intent as she was on this last phase. "Please get on with it, Julia." He stood next to her in the small anteroom.
"All right." She was slow to act, and the needle did not go in smoothly. "I'm sorry, Barnabas, I'm just afraid of what this will do to you."
"I know, doctor." The pain of the needle was nothing compared to what hit him when the fluid entered his circulatory system. Oh, God, Barnabas thought heatedly as his legs gave way beneath him.
Julia held his arm, trying to pull him over to a chair. Willie was standing again in the doorway. He went forward tentatively to help her.
Barnabas saw him for the first time, and his face became hot with more than pain. "Get out of here, Willie," he hissed, managing to stand. "Get out of this house! Get out!" He collapsed into the chair Julia had steered him toward and stared malevolently at the young man. "Don't come back till dawn."
Willie left, biting his lip angrily. His feelings were hurt, and he wasn't even sure why. Why should he care if Barnabas didn't want him to see him in a weakened state? Was he ashamed? It must be that Collins's pride, he thought. But it still bothered him.
Willie grabbed up his coat and slammed out of the Old House. He began walking toward town, not really knowing what he would do when he got there. Damn Barnabas, he thought angrily. Hadn't he punished him enough? If he wasn't pushing him around, he was insulting him. Willie was tired of it, but he had no choice. He had to stay as Barnabas had reminded him several times the past few days. Willie could still feel the pull of the vampire's will in his mind. He wondered if it would disappear when Barnabas was cured. He wanted it to. It seemed ages since he'd been free of that oppressive weight. He could never forget what he was to Barnabas as long as his will remained in the older man's power. It plagued his dreams, turning the halfway decent ones into nightmares, so that he didn't know if he was asleep of awake. It prevented him having any peace in his mind, and now it constantly reminded him of that shattering experience when Barnabas had beaten him. He could never put down that sickening fear he felt when he thought Barnabas was angry with him. Nothing could be worth that kind of experience, nothing would make him risk that again, Willie thought, with self-pity welling up in him.
He looked up from the path into the lights of Collinsport. Shoving his hands down into the pockets of his coat, Willie walked slowly into town, hanging his head against a chilly wind and to make the bruises less noticeable. He glanced at the windows of the Collinsport Inn, seeing the people within having dinner. It seemed ironic that the one time he had eaten there, Barnabas had bought his meal. And tonight he had skipped his supper to help Julia and him. A wasted effort, like everything he had ever done, he thought bitterly. "Yeah, I sure wasted my life," he muttered.
The Blue Whale seemed more inviting that the Inn. He thought it would be nice to get thoroughly drunk, although Barnabas would not like it. He had put a stop to Willie's drinking that very first night. "Oh, what a fool you were, Willie," he said to himself. "Always have and always will be."
"Will be what?" A hand was lightly laid on his shoulder.
Willie flinched, not because it had touched a bruise but from fear. He whirled around, stepping away to see Professor T. Eliot Stokes looking at him in the yellow light of the street lamp. "Professor," Willie breathed.
"Hello, Willie. How are you?" Stokes smiled at him kindly.
"I—I'm all right." Willie was afraid to be seen with him, afraid it would get back to Barnabas.
"I was just going in for a drink. Would you care for one?" He indicated the door to the Blue Whale.
"No, thanks. I. . .I gotta go, Professor."
"But you just walked up. Besides, I wanted to talk to you."
"Well, I can't. I wasn't goin' in anyway." Willie started to walk away, but Stokes grabbed his arm.
"I know what you're worried about, Willie. But you needn't be." He tried to think of something to get Willie to stay.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." He was nearing panic.
"I don't want to argue with you, but I promise you, you won't get into trouble with Mr. Collins again."
"I don' know what ya mean. Now please, I-I gotta go." He pulled against Stokes's hold on his arm, not looking at him. "Let me go, please."
"Not until you come have a drink with me," he said in a deliberately light tone.
Willie looked up as several people came out of the tavern, one of whom was Sam Evans, Maggie's father. He looked at Willie curiously, and the latter looked away, then up at Stokes. Now he had been seen with him. He did not suppress the shudder of fear that ran through his body. Giving up, he let the professor lead him toward the door.
"Now, let me ask you, Willie," Stokes began after they were seated in a corner table, "if you would consider coming to work for me." Stokes sipped his sherry, and the other was studying his beer mug.
Willie looked him in the eyes for the first time that evening. "What do ya mean?" The other man was smiling amiably, and Willie knew instinctively that he could trust him, that he was trying to help. Hope was suddenly dangled before his grasp.
"Well, I spend a great deal of time up at Collinwood. My house outside of town is rather large, and I'm afraid I neglect it terribly. I need a caretaker for it. I've seen the work you've done at the Old House, and I believe you might be the best man for the job."
Willie felt a flush of emotion and had to look down lest Stokes see it. "I. . .I-I can't—I mean, thanks, but I'm," he swallowed at the bitter gall in his throat, "perfectly happy workin' for Barnabas."
The big man sighed in sympathy for Willie's pain. "I don't know how you could be."
"Well, I am." He was shaking. "I mean, he's given me a place to live, and. . .and a steady job." It was the truth, but such a small part of it, he felt like he was lying.
"If you come to work for me, you'll have your own room, and I'll pay you a hundred dollars a week, free boarding of course." Stokes studied the younger man whose inner battle was very close to the surface. Barnabas had a terrible grip on him apparently, even with the vampire's impending cure.
"I-I'm all. . .right workin' for Barnabas."
"I don't even believe that."
"You don't have to, Professor. Now, I gotta go. Thanks for the drink." Willie stood abruptly, pushing his mug of beer away from the edge of the table.
"You can't leave yet. You haven't touched your beer." Stokes laid a firm hand on his arm. "I'm not through yet."
Willie looked around, realizing he was drawing attention to himself. He sat back down slowly, eyes averted from the small crowd in the bar. He did not really want to leave; Stokes' offer was incredible. He must have an ulterior motive, Willie thought. Nevertheless, he wished he could accept. But Barnabas would be furious, damn him. Something good could actually happen to him, but it wouldn't. "Okay, finish, I gotta go.
"Willie, I know Julia is trying to cure him. And I've made up my mind not to try and expose him unless he hurts of kills someone else."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Professor," Willie said dully, almost automatically.
Stokes stared at him steadily. "I don't like talking to someone who won't look at me," he said, then smiled when Willie met his gaze. "I admire your loyalty, Willie, even if it's loyalty born of fear. But if Barnabas is cured, he should have no reason to hold you against your will."
"I told you, I don't know—"
"Willie, you came to me yourself and told me what he was."
Frustration because he knew he couldn't get out of it made Willie tremble. "I was drunk, I told ya that," he said emotionally, his eyes focused on his clenched hands.
"What you told me made sense, nonetheless. The more I considered it, the more I believed it."
Willie looked up. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone one of desperation.
"I want you to leave Barnabas Collins' control." Stokes felt genuinely sorry for the young man, much as he had when he realized Barnabas had hurt him. He had not, until then, considered Willie one of the vampire's victims.
"I ca—I mean, I don't want to! I mean, there is no control!" Willie stood up and headed for the door. It seemed he had to fight his way through the crowd before he could get out. The cold evening air chilled his face as he hurried out of the area, away from the people and Professor Stokes.
It wasn't fair, he thought, it just wasn't fair. Why couldn't have Stokes wanted him to work back when he was still the handyman for the Collinses at Collinwood? Willie ran a hand roughly through his blondish hair. Because he barely kept that job, he thought. He had stayed drunk a good bit of the time, and if it hadn't been for Maggie's influence with Mrs. Stoddard, he would have long since lost it—like every other job he had ever had. Willie looked up at the quarter moon, feeling useless and depressed. He didn't know how to make a good start, but because of Barnabas he thought he had an idea of what it took. It would be so easy now to go and work for the professor.
"I'll never get the chance," he moaned to himself as he entered the woods. "Damn you, Barnabas," he said, grabbing up a stick and flinging it into the dark. It was bad enough his own life was ruined, but now Maggie's would be, too. Barnabas wanted to marry her. Willie could not help but worry that Julia's cure would prove only temporary so that Maggie would end up dead. He would have to find a way to stop that. There was not one, however that he could think of in which he would not be blamed and punished. Barnabas had been completely intolerant of him since finding out what he had done. If he heard that Willie and Stokes had been talking. . . Willie's thoughts trailed off into the dark and painful memories. His heart ached with bitter disappointment and self-contempt. It was like it has always been—he was alone in his suffering, no one was ever there when he needed comfort. No one would ever know his distress. And no one ever cared. He sank to the ground in a pool of self-pity.
The sounds of night gradually crept into his awareness, crickets chirping, an owl hooting in the distance. The sounds did not frighten him at all; in fact, they soothed his misery like a mild tranquilizer eases one into sleep. Willie yawned, feeling the cold seep through his clothing. He was weary of uncertainty and fear but saw no way out of it. The Old House awaited him on the other side of the woods. Barnabas had told him to stay out till dawn, Willie remembered. But it was cold, and he was tired.
He shivered, looking around. The woods seemed calm and restful, still but for the slightest breeze in the tree tops. It was nights like this Willie enjoyed being in the woods. The quiet peacefulness helped him to calm his restless mind. And he knew with Barnabas undergoing his cure that there was nothing to fear in the darkness.
He started toward the Old House, going slowly and letting his mind wander into a pleasant scenario: snuggling down into the satin sheets of a big warm bed with someone to hold, someone like Maggie. . . Willie felt himself smile and suddenly realized he was free of Barnabas' will. He stopped and let out a short laugh. "It's gone," he breathed, then shouted, "I'm free!" The words disappeared with barely an echo into the darkness. "I could run away, and he'd never be able to find me!" Willie said excitedly. He turned to go back into town. "Goodbye, Barnabas. Can't say as I'll miss ya."
The abrupt mournful howl of a dog startled him, sending icy chills over his body. No, Willie thought. No! The dog howled again, and far away came an answering cry. He turned back around, hearing in his mind Barnabas saying, "Did you think you could ever escape me?"
Willie trudged dejectedly toward the Old House again, wondering what was going on. The howling continued eerily, making him hurry his steps. By the time he reached the house, he was panting, his breath coming in gulps as though he had just surfaced from a long dive. Fear mounted in him as he fumbled with the back door latch. The dogs seemed much closer to the house than he had thought they were.
Shivering, he realized he could not get in the back way—he would have to risk having Barnabas see him come in. He must know anyway, otherwise how could he have sent the dogs after him? Willie thought, steeling himself to rush around the side of the building.
He took a deep breath and crept forward through the hedges close to the wall. He was still around the side of the house when the howling took on a different note—more threatening than mournful. Willie was afraid that one of them might at any moment jump out of the dark and rip him apart. His heart pounded madly as he ran the last stretch to the front door.
It would not open, and he found himself pounding on the door, screaming to be let in. Willie could not resist looking over his shoulder. It was no dog, he thought wildly, frozen with terror. Great long fangs and vicious yellow eyes stared at him from the face of a large black animal. He faced the door again, sensing it leaping toward him, unable to move as hot breath hit the back of his neck. Willie fell forward into the house as the door opened.
"I thought I told you to stay away till dawn." Barnabas stood, looking down at him.
"Barnabas!" Willie said hysterically. "There's a. . .a wolf—"
"No, there isn't, Willie. Now get a hold of yourself and get up."
Willie was utterly confused, but pushed himself up, still shaking. "B-but I. . .I saw it, Barnabas." He looked into the taller man's eyes and saw nothing he could comprehend there, they were dark and unreadable.
"I know that." Barnabas viewed his trembling servant with curiosity. His blue eyes were wide with fear, and he was breathing heavily. Barnabas wondered if Willie had ever had any pride.
"B-but where is it?" Willie glanced fearfully out the front door. "It almost had me."
"Shut the door, and come with me." He strode away without waiting to see if Willie followed. Barnabas still felt weak, and he wanted to be comfortable. He settled into a chair in the drawing room with the other man standing in front of him. "Now, Willie, there have been a few changes. Julia says that I am cured. But I have discovered that I still retain some kind of power. You'd do well to remember that." Willie nodded, bowing his head. "I see no reason why I should explain myself to you; however, I want you to be aware that you are still in my power."
"But I-I can't—" He looked down at him but quickly looked away. Those dark eyes intimidated him completely.
"I know you can't feel it anymore, Willie. But I can sense you. Your weak mind is very susceptible to suggestion." Barnabas debated on telling him how little of the experience outside was an illusion. "You also have a vivid imagination."
"You mean, you made me think I was bein' chased by. . ." Willie frowned; he would never be able to feel safe again, not even a little bit.
"Yes, Willie. But to be honest, most of it was your own doing. I can still make the dogs howl if that's what you think. Your own fear must have excited them, however." Barnabas had no intention of telling Willie that he felt his power weakening steadily. If Willie thought he still had it, his control over him would be better.
"Barnabas," Willie began hesitantly, "if—if you still have power, how'd you know you're cured for good?"
"I don't know, Willie. That's one reason why I've no intention of letting you go." He rose.
Willie nodded, past despairing over it. "I know."
"Very well, then. You may go to bed." He watched the young man go out with a heavy step, his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat.
"Another beautiful day; just the kind to spend with someone as lovely as you."
"Oh, Barnabas, you always say such sweet things to me." Maggie leaned close to him as they strolled across the Collins's estate.
"0nly because you deserve them, my dear." He gently turned her to face him as they stopped walking. He smiled at her lovely brown eyes, old memories of Josette surging up inside him.
Maggie smiled, charmed by his affection and warmth. "You're such a kind, gentle person, Barnabas."
"You'd bring out the best in anyone." He slowly drew her close, brushing his lips against her cheek.
She hugged him close. "You have such a courtly manner, Barnabas. Are all Englishmen like you?"
They looked at each other. He laughed lightly. "I don't know."
"I think it's so nice." They began walking again, arm in arm. "I wish I didn't have to go mind David today," she said wistfully.
"If you must, you must. I will, of course, see you back to Collinwood."
She gave him a light hug. "I knew you would."
Willie was looking out of a window when he spotted the two walking out on the grounds. He had been noticing the coming of spring, budding trees, singing birds, and that subtle warmth creeping into the air. But now he was only concerned about the girl. Barnabas was sure to ask her hand in marriage. If Willie had thought he was permanently cured, he would not worry so much. He could barely stand to think of what happened to Carolyn Stoddard. That couldn't happen to Maggie, too.
The distant sound of someone knocking on the front door drew his attention from the window. He went down the stairs and to the door. He nearly shut it in Professor Stokes' face.
"What're you doin' here?" he asked tensely.
"That's not a very nice way to say hello," Stokes replied dryly. "Are you going to let me in?"
"Look, I don't know what you want, but Barnabas ain't here." Willie was nearly panicking. He had to get rid of Stokes before his master came back.
"I know. He's up near Collinwood." He pushed the door open and went in, despite Willie's protest. "I came to see if you've reconsidered my offer."
"Professor, I told ya, I got a job here. I mean, thanks, but I-I already have a job."
"Have you asked Mr. Collins?"
"He's already. . . I don't need to ask him. Now, I got—"
"Willie," Stokes interrupted firmly, "if Barnabas is truly cured, he has no hold over you."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Professor." Barnabas would be back any minute, and he would be punished, Willie thought frantically.
"I spoke with Julia Hoffman today, Willie. She's going on a long holiday as I'm sure you know. Since she was trying to help Barnabas, I feel quite certain she would not leave unless she had achieved total success." Eliot Stokes watched the other man's face closely, seeing the inner turmoil written in his features and movements. Perhaps asking Willie was not the best way to go about it. He was too emotional and susceptible to panic to be reasoned with.
"I don't know why you're tellin' me all this. I told you, I already have a job here." He stood ready to run should Barnabas come raging in.
"I would be willing to wager that Mr. Collins doesn't pay you as much as I've offered—one-hundred a week."
You would be right, Willie thought. Barnabas gave him enough money for essentials like food but never anything he could spend on recreational items, or even new clothes. "Look, Professor, I need to get back to work. I. . .I'm sorry to turn you down, but—"
"Never mind, Willie. We can talk another time. Good day." Stokes went out, leaving Willie sighing with relief. He would have to talk to Barnabas Collins himself. As he had expected, their paths crossed on his way up to Collinwood.
"Mr. Collins. May I have a word with you?"
"Certainly. What may I do for you?" It suddenly occurred to Barnabas that Stokes was coming from the 0ld House. Surely Willie would not have dared to tell him anything else.
"Well, I've been looking for a caretaker for my own house out near town. I've asked your man, Willie, if he'd be interested in the job, but he declined. I hope you don't mind my asking him." Stokes studied the other man carefully. He seemed healthier, more vital somehow.
"No, of course not, Professor. Willie is free to go whenever he likes." Be glad you declined, Willie, Barnabas thought.
"I see. I don't think he knows it, Mr. Collins."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply that he's afraid to accept my offer. Afraid of what will happen to him."
"Professor Stokes, I hope you're not going to start accusing me again. I assure you, Willie is a free man, an employee and no more."
"Very well, but I shall not forget what went on here a month ago. If anything happens to anyone, I know where to look. And that includes Willie Loomis."
"I don't like threats and accusations—especially unwarranted ones," Barnabas said icily.
"It was not a threat, Mr. Collins, it was a warning. Goodbye." Stokes continued on his way to Collinwood, convinced that Barnabas was guilty. He had no way to prove it yet, but he would find one, just in case he needed it.
Barnabas watched the big man walk away, then started again for the 0ld House. He was angry now. None of this would have happened if Willie had kept quiet, he thought.
Willie was standing in the foyer, rubbing the side of his neck worriedly. He was startled by the abrupt inward swing of the door and stepped back away from Barnabas when he came in. The color drained from his face, and his stomach knotted sickeningly. "Barnabas, I-I. . .I didn't tell him nothin', I swear," he blurted out.
"Perhaps not this time." Barnabas slammed the door and stared menacingly at Willie.
"He came to me!" He felt a sob rise in his chest and thought wildly for a way out. "I swear, Barnabas, he came to me. He—he wanted m-me to go work for him. I-I said 'no', like you woulda wanted." Willie looked for a sign that Barnabas was easing off on his anger, but could discern no change. "I-I didn't tell him anything, I swear I didn't!"
"You are such a coward, Willie. I don't know how you stand yourself." He shook his head, pitying the young man suddenly.
Willie was so relieved Barnabas was not going to hurt him that the remark did not sink into his mind for moment. When it did, his low self-esteem dropped lower, but he said nothing and showed no outward reaction.
"I hope you realize what a mess you've caused. I doubt I shall ever be free of Stokes' suspicion because of you." He began removing his cloak. "You know, of course, that should he ask you again, you had better say 'no'. I won't have you telling him all about me."
"Yeah, I know." Willie made no move to help him, he was still afraid to get very close.
Barnabas hooked his silver-headed cane on the coat rack and turned back to his servant. "I asked Maggie to marry me," he said unexpectedly.
Willie gaped at him. "Already?" he said without thinking. There was no time to try to stop him, he thought.
"That's right, Willie." His look of warning was well taken by the younger man. "How far along are you to finishing the master bedroom?"
So that was it! he realized. "I'm almost done."
"Good."
"Barnabas, did she say 'yes'?" Willie asked timidly.
"Not yet, but she will. Even with Clark returning this evening, I am confident."
"He's comin' back tonight?" So Barnabas really hadn't done anything to him.
"That's right." The look he gave Willie made him tense up with cold trepidation. "I have no intention of harming Clark. This matter can be handled cleanly. For now, I want you to get back to work. I have some things to do before I return to Collinwood."
Willie nodded. "Okay, Barnabas. I'll hurry and finish that bedroom. There's just a little more paintin' left to do." He backed a few steps away before going up the stairs. Maybe he shouldn't interfere, Willie thought. Barnabas did appear completely cured. But what if he reverted? Julia was not here to help.