Dark Shadows: The Last Year

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Victor Winters, Mar 22, 2019.

  1. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1000: Victims

    Fri. Apr. 24, 1970

    The night of the full moon… Quentin Collins races to Chris’s cabin to try and prevent certain tragedy, unaware that someone has stowed away in the trunk of his car… The full moon has long been an omen of death and despair, for high above Collinsport, in Chris Jennings’ cabin on Green Mountain, the werewolf will claim another victim…

    At Chris’s cabin, Sabrina hugged herself as she looked at the moon poppy. “Oh, Chris! I was too late!” Her only hope was that he did not return to the cabin until morning. Suddenly there was growling coming from outside the cabin. A wild animal was scratching at the door, trying to get inside the room.

    Sabrina hurried over to the front door and bolted it quickly. The scratching and growling continued and Sabrina looked around the cabin for something silver to protect herself with. She found a platter that looked like it was made of silver on the mantelpiece. Sabrina quickly jerked the platter off of the mantelpiece, the objects on it clattering onto the floor.

    The scratching on the door stopped. Sabrina turned to look at the door. She tentatively stepped towards it, listening for any noises outside. She waited a minute before unbolting it. Sabrina slowly opened it a crack, looking to see if the werewolf was still there. The cabin was probably not going to be a safe place to stay. Perhaps I can make it back to my car, she thought. Suddenly, there was a shower of glass behind her as the creature jumped through the window. Sabrina screamed and held the silver platter in front of her face…

    Quentin finally arrived at the cabin, his car stalling temporarily as it passed over the watery road. The moon had risen, and Quentin knew that it was now going to be a mission to rescue Sabrina—not Chris—at this point. Turning up the path to the cabin, he saw Sabrina’s car parked outside. There were lights on in the cabin, and Quentin’s car brakes squealed in protest as he stopped too fast.

    Quentin reached into his jacket and felt inside for his gun. He could hear screams inside Chris’s cabin—Sabrina’s screams. He rushed towards the unbolted door and carefully opened it, using it as a shield as he stepped forward.

    Quentin gasped to see the werewolf on top of Sabrina’s unmoving body, ripping at her neck. “Chris, stop!” Quentin shouted, drawing his gun in front of him and firing a warning shot into the floor beside them. The werewolf jumped a little and turned towards Quentin, snarling. It came towards Quentin, claws extended and fangs gleaming. “I’m sorry, Chris!” Quentin cried out, and shot the werewolf in the shoulder, not wanting to kill him. The werewolf howled in pain, clutching at his shoulder. He growled and snapped at Quentin.

    Just then, there was a shrill scream next to Quentin. “Chris!” a girl’s voice shouted in despair. Quentin looked down in shock to see Amy standing there. The werewolf looked at the little girl and stopped growling. He held his bloody shoulder and stared at her. She stared back at him, then looked at the bloody body lying on the cabin floor.

    “Sabrina!” Amy screamed. She lurched forward, but Quentin grabbed her before she could go any further. “I’ve got to help her, Quentin!” Amy pleaded. “Quentin, she isn’t moving! She isn’t moving!” she shrieked.

    Holding his arm, the werewolf turned and jumped out the window, turning to look at Amy one more time before it ventured out into the moonlit evening. “Chris!” Amy screamed. Quentin let go of her and she ran to the broken window. “Chris! Chris!” she screamed out into the twilight.

    Act One:

    “Amy, let him go!” Quentin commanded. He strode over to Sabrina and felt for any sign of life… He closed his eyes and shook his head when he realized it was too late.

    Amy turned away from the window and looked at him kneeling over Sabrina’s body. “Is she…”

    Quentin nodded grimly, and got up off of the floor. He went to Amy and put his hands down on her shoulders. “Amy, what are you doing here?”

    “I heard you and Mr. Jaeger talking earlier, and decided to follow you. I hid in your car trunk… “ Amy looked past him at Sabrina’s body and started to cry. “Oh God, Sabrina! Chris did this to her…”

    Quentin brought the girl against his stomach and held her as she sobbed against him. “Amy, how do you know it’s Chris?”

    Amy pulled her tear-streaked face away from Quentin’s torso. “I’ve always known… “ she gasped between sobs. She buried her face against Quentin again.

    Quentin held his mouth open slightly in disbelief and stroked the back of the girl’s head. “You poor girl…” Outside, they heard the sound of the werewolf howl at the full moon…

    Meanwhile, John Jaeger looked out the window in the drawing room of the Old House, staring at that same full moon. Angelique came into the room, unheard, and slipped quietly beside him and looked out the window as well. “You did everything you could,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.

    He looked down in surprise to see her. He had been so lost in his thoughts he had not heard her return from Collinwood. “I know,” he answered. “It’s the waiting for news that’s been the hardest…”

    “Did I hear your voice at Collinwood, earlier?” she asked, turning away from the moon and staring up at him with her big baby blues.

    “Yes,” he nodded. “Quentin said he would handle things… What can he do, I wonder?” John said sarcastically.

    “If he said he would handle it, he will,” Angelique said confidently, giving a little smile. She knew that Quentin’s magical portrait protected him.

    John felt jealous. He did not like the way Angelique looked when she spoke of Quentin. “How is Laszlo?” he asked, changing the subject.

    Angelique was a little startled by the change. “Laszlo? He’s fine… Well, actually, he wrote a composition for me… ‘Ode To Angelique’ he calls it. It’s lovely… you really should hear it, John.”

    “Wow, a composition named after you, that’s nice,” John said, agreeably. He turned away from the window and crossed his arms. He was trying hard to think of other things rather than the full moon. “How about you, Angelique? How do you feel now, after what happened last night?”

    “I’m fine now, John, really I am,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about me—I have survived worse ordeals and managed to always come out on top…” Angelique turned towards the Secret Room and smiled…

    Act Two:

    John glanced back out the window and took a deep breath, trying not to think about Sabrina. “Anything interesting going on at the big house?” he asked.

    Angelique thought about it. She did not want to tell John that she and Quentin had kissed… finally kissed for the first time in seventy-three years. “They have a new houseguest at Collinwood—an old friend of Quentin’s from Portland—a Mr. Dameon Edwards. He seems pleasant enough, but I can’t help but think that there’s more going on beneath the surface with that man… I almost don’t see that he and Quentin have much in common. I wonder what was the extent of their relationship in Portland…”

    John scowled. Every conversation seemed to turn to Quentin at some point. Just then, the phone in the foyer rang, and both John and Angelique jumped a little. They were not used to there being something so modern as a phone at the Old House. John looked at Angelique. “I’ll answer the phone, if you’d like?”

    Angelique shook her head and smiled. “Oh no, I want the pleasure of enjoying every modern convenience!” She walked out into the foyer and pick up the receiver. “Angelique Rumson speaking.”

    John listened from the drawing room. Angelique’s eyes widened with surprise when she heard the voice on the other end. “Quentin! What’s happened? John told me that you were going to look for Sabrina! Did you—“

    Quentin stood at the pay phone just outside the Sheriff’s office. “Angelique, I’m at the police station—Amy’s with me.” He looked over at the young girl sitting on the bench just outside the office, staring at the floor.

    “Amy!” Angelique exclaimed. “What’s Amy doing there?” She looked over at John with a startled look on her face.

    “I went up to Chris’s cabin this evening,” Quentin explained. “Amy hid in the trunk of my car. Angelique…” Quentin turned his back to Amy and lowered his voice into the payphone… “Angelique, Amy saw Sabrina get killed by the werewolf!” he whispered loudly.

    Angelique lowered the phone from her face and stared at John, her face stricken with shock. She shook her head, her mouth open, unsure of what to say to Quentin…

    Quentin sat next to Amy on the bench. Amy just sat there, unmoving. Her cup of instant hot cocoa untouched on the other side of her. “Amy,” Quentin began, putting a hand on her shoulders. “Angelique is coming here, soon. She’s going to bring you home to Collinwood while I…” Quentin searched for the right words to say, “Take care of things here in town. I have to answer some questions about Sabrina…”

    Amy nodded, but did not say anything. She was staring off into space instead of crying. She had no more tears left to shed.

    Quentin sighed and thought of Chris, who was out in the woods surrounding his cabin, now being predated by a bunch of law enforcement men with rifles, instead of being the predator. Quentin’s story of a bear mauling Sabrina had been accepted, but Quentin knew that the men would just as soon shoot the werewolf if they came across him in the middle of the woods, as they would the vicious bear they THOUGHT they were looking for…

    Act Three:

    Angelique and John drove in silence, she in the driver’s seat, John in the passenger’s. Angelique looked over at John with a worried expression on her face. John just looked out the passenger window as they turned out of the unpaved road from the Old House onto the paved one. Angelique turned back and concentrated on the road. She was more worried about Quentin and Amy, now.

    When they arrived at the police station, John and Angelique quickly found Quentin and Amy sitting outside the Sheriff’s office on a bench. “Quentin!” Angelique called out.

    Quentin stood up and embraced her as she rushed into his arms. Amy did not look up at them. Quentin looked at John over Angelique’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” he told John. He pulled back from Angelique and looked down at her. “Both of you…” Angelique went to Amy’s side to console her…

    After Angelique and John took Amy back to Collinwood, Quentin called Tony Peterson on the phone and had him meet him at the Blue Whale.

    “What’s this about, Quentin?” Tony asked on the phone. “Is it about Dameon Edwards?”

    “No, not Dameon, this time…” Quentin said bitterly. “It’s Sabrina Stuart—she’s dead!” he blurted out.

    “Dead? How?” Tony asked. He was seated at his desk in his office, ready to close up for the night.

    “A bear crashed into Chris’s cabin up on Green Mountain,” Quentin explained. “She was mauled to death!”

    Tony shook his head against the receiver. “That poor girl…”

    “Yes,” Quentin answered. “And I don’t know how I’ll ever tell Chris!”

    “I don’t envy you Quentin!” Tony exclaimed. “I’ll meet you at the Blue Whale in thirty minutes. There’s some papers I need to go over…”

    After ending the phone call with Quentin, Tony went to the filing cabinet marked R-T and opened it. He quickly searched for and brought up a file—STUART, S…

    Thirty minutes later, Tony greeted Quentin sitting alone at a corner table with an entire bottle of scotch that he had bought from the bartender. There were two glasses on the table. Quentin raised one of them and smiled drunkenly at Tony. “I decided to start early…”

    Tony sat down with his briefcase and started to open it. “I hope that you could spare me a glass or two…” Quentin nodded and started to pour Tony a scotch. Tony pulled out a file and tapped it, “Do you have any idea where Chris Jennings is, right now? I called his phone at the caretaker’s cottage, but there was no answer.”

    Tony turned the file so that Quentin could see the name STUART, S on it. “Chris has been named the executor of Sabrina’s will, instead of her family,” he told Quentin. “We need to let him know…”

    Quentin slid Tony the scotch and looked forlorn. “Chris… How am I going to tell him about her?” He picked up his glass and took another gulp of scotch. He wanted to put off telling Chris—forever, if he could…


    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Sabrina Stuart… LISA RICHARDS

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

  2. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1001: The Final Straw

    Mon. Apr. 27, 1970

    The night of the full moon continues… After seeing the werewolf maul Sabrina Stuart to death, Quentin Collins and Amy Jennings are devastated… After Angelique and John Jaeger bring a despondent Amy back to Collinwood, Tony Peterson, who has news about Sabrina’s will, heads to the Blue Whale to meet with Quentin...

    Tony greeted Quentin sitting alone at a corner table with an entire bottle of scotch that he had bought from the bartender. There were two glasses on the table. Quentin raised one of them and smiled drunkenly at Tony. “I decided to start early…”

    Tony sat down with his briefcase and started to open it. “I hope that you could spare me a glass or two…” Quentin nodded and started to pour Tony a scotch. Tony pulled out a file and tapped it, “Do you have any idea where Chris Jennings is, right now? I called his phone at the caretaker’s cottage, but there was no answer.”

    Tony turned the file so that Quentin could see the name STUART, S on it. “Chris has been named the executor of Sabrina’s will, instead of her family,” he told Quentin. “We need to let him know…”

    Quentin slid Tony the scotch and looked forlorn. “Chris… How am I going to tell him about her?” He picked up his glass and took another gulp of scotch. He wanted to put off telling Chris—forever, if he could…

    Later, after Tony had decided Quentin had had enough to drink, Tony drove him home in Quentin’s car back to Collinwood. Tony looked over at Quentin dozing off as they drove back. He wondered how Quentin came to find Sabrina in Chris Jennings’ cabin up on Green Mountain, but said nothing.

    At Collinwood, after putting Amy to bed, Angelique came down and found John staring at Barnabas Collins’ portrait in the Great Hall. Angelique stopped on the stairs and frowned, then continued over to him. “Well, I put Amy to bed, but I’m not sure if she’s going to get any sleep tonight. I asked Mrs. Johnson to check on her after a while. I’m not sure how much comfort SHE’LL be!”

    John stared at the portrait, only half listening to Angelique. “There’s something about the man in the portrait, he makes me feel really nervous, somehow… I think it’s those eyes—they seem to be staring right at me…”

    Angelique took John by the arm and led him back towards the Drawing Room. “Maybe we should have some coffee while we wait for Quentin…”

    John looked back at the portrait once more, but followed her into the Drawing Room. He looked around and shivered as Angelique sat and began to pour some coffee into their cups. “There’s been so much tragedy in this house… I can feel it all around me…” he hugged himself as he sat down.

    “There has been a great deal of tragedy here, not just what happened tonight, but it seems to happen to everyone that lives here,” Angelique admitted to him.

    Just then, the front doors opened, and Tony and Quentin walked through, with Tony helping Quentin inside before closing the doors behind him. “Do you need any help upstairs, Quentin?” Tony asked him.

    Quentin grinned and stumbled towards the stairs. “I don’t think so, my friend.” He saw Angelique approach from the Drawing Room. “Hey, Angelique!”

    “Quentin! Are you all right?” Angelique had not seen Quentin so drunk before.

    “Sure!” he smiled. He squeezed her hand and smiled, and started to make his way up the staircase, swaying as walked up, one step at a time.

    Angelique turned to Tony. “Thank you for driving him home, Mr. Peterson. I can only imagine what could have happened to him if he came home on his own… IF he came home at all!”

    Tony looked up at Quentin on the stairs. “No problem, Mrs. Rumson.” He turned and stared at her. He couldn’t help but think, once again, that he had met her somewhere…

    Angelique saw him looking at her intently, and quickly turned her head. “We’re having coffee in the—“

    “Whoa!” Quentin yelled from the balcony, interrupting her. He had his hand on the balcony railing, watching it shake back and forth as held on to it. “We better get this thing fixed before someone breaks there neck!” He grinned down at Angelique and Tony, and made his way into the hallway upstairs…

    Act One:

    Later that night, Angelique was awoken from her slumber to the sounds of sobbing echoing from another room. Angelique sat up in bed, alarmed. As she listened, she realized it was a man crying audibly…

    She quickly got out of bed and put a filmy robe on over her nightgown. Venturing out into the hall, she listened and ascertained that the sobbing was coming from John’s bedroom. Knocking softly on his door, the crying seemed to stop, but he did not say anything.

    “John!” Angelique called out, concernedly, “Are you all right?” There was no answer. Angelique did not want to go back to her room and ignore what she had heard. Opening the door slowly, she peered into the bedroom. The full moon shone through John’s window, illuminating his simply furnished and decorated room that had once belonged to Willie Loomis. Angelique could see John laying in his bed, but he was turned on his side, not facing her.

    Angelique carefully walked over to John’s bed. “John,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He did not acknowledge her.

    “I heard crying—it was a man’s voice, so it had to be you,” she said. “I want to make sure you’re all right.”

    “I’m all right,” John’s voice was low and gruff. She could see him grind his eyes with his fist.

    “I don’t think you are,” she answered. “You care too much about what happened to Sabrina Stuart tonight.”

    John turned his head toward her, but continued to lie on his side. “Of course I care!” he snapped. He sniffled and rubbed his nose with his hand. “That poor girl was mauled to death!”

    Angelique reached over and stroked his hair with her hand. “You gave her fair warning, over and over… She should have listened—“

    John sat up in bed and fully faced her. “Why did I have to know? Why me? I couldn’t get the visions out of my head… I couldn’t just leave well enough alone!”

    “You have these gifts, John,” she told him. “You have to use them, whether you like it or not! I can help you control your abilities! I can teach you how to use your psychic powers to—“

    “I’ll never use them again!” John interrupted. “Never! Oh, I know you have abilities of your own, Angelique! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you seem to know things, control things—like you’re some kind of witch or something! Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll follow you! I don’t want OR need it! If I ever get another vision in my mind again, I’m pushing it RIGHT out!”

    “John, don’t let this one instance dissuade you! What happened to Sabrina was NOT your fault! She went up to Chris’s cabin of own volition! She—“

    “Chris!” John gasped. “It was her boyfriend—he’s that creature!” Angelique turned away, and John knew that his hunch was right. “Oh my God, Angelique! I was warning the wrong person! I should have known, I should have KNOWN!” John began to sob again.

    “No, no John!” Angelique put her arms around him and drew him close. “Chris and Sabrina were doomed from the start—no one and nothing could have changed that. Please—Please don’t cry any more, John!” She began to kiss his forehead, then his cheeks.

    John sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. It was then he realized just how close he and Angelique were. He reached around the back of her head and brought her face down to his. “Stay with me tonight, Angelique… Please…” he murmured.

    Angelique responded by kissing him on the lips. She felt an electrical feeling all over her body. It was much more stimulating than when she and Quentin had kissed. She grasped the bed covers and pulled them down, slipping into the bed beside him.

    John kissed her again, helping her out of her robe and flinging it onto the floor once she had removed it. Outside, a dog—or was it a wolf—howled at the full moon. But neither Angelique nor John heard it…

    Act Two:

    Chris Jennings woke up, cold and almost naked, in the woods above Collinwood in the morning light. Stumbling his way back home, he quickly took a hot bath and studied himself in the mirror in the cottage bathroom. What little was left of his clothing was stained with blood, but he did not know if it was from the bullet wound on his shoulder—or from some poor soul he had ran into during the night…

    While he was getting dressed, he could have sworn he could smell coffee, but he did not remember starting any when he came in. When he came out of his bedroom with fresh clothes on, he almost jumped out of his skin to find Quentin sitting on his couch.

    “Quentin!” Chris gasped. He had his blood-stained scraps of clothing, crumpled in one hand, ready to fling it into the fireplace to get rid of the evidence.

    Quentin stared down at the fabric in Chris’s hand, but did not look surprised. “Good morning, Chris. I made us some coffee…”

    “Uh, thanks,” Chris was embarrassed. He looked down at the fistful of fabric and threw it into the fireplace. The fire consumed the clothing greedily. Chris turned again to Quentin. He noticed how pale Quentin was. “You look like your night was as bad as mine… Except, I can’t remember mine!”

    “I remember the feeling, all too well…” Quentin said, but he did not smile. Chris noticed Quentin’s mood was quite melancholy. “I’ll get the coffee…” Quentin motioned at the couch as he got up to go to the kitchenette in the back of the cottage.

    Chris sat down on the couch. “Were there any attacks in Collinsport last night? I went up to the cabin a few days ago to prepare for the full moon. I was hoping that if I attacked anything, it would be a deer or a moose instead of people…”

    Quentin looked grim as he poured their coffees. He made sure to add plenty of sugar, as they were both going to need it for the news Quentin was about to break to him.

    “I think I’d better go back tonight,” Chris continued. “Just in case… it happens again… Thanks, Quentin,” Chris said, as Quentin handed him a mug full of coffee. “Quentin, you didn’t say if there were any attacks last night?” Chris was really starting to worry about how quiet Quentin was being.

    “Yes,” Quentin nodded. “I’m afraid there WAS an attack last night. I’m sorry, Chris… I don’t know how I’m going to tell you. You killed someone last night…” Quentin paused. He did not want to continue.

    “Killed someone?” Chris wished he was surprised, but he wasn’t. He had almost always killed someone every time he had transformed into the werewolf. Just last month it had been the evil Bruno Hess. “Who? Who was it Quentin?”

    Quentin leaned forward and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. He looked down and shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell you… Chris… it was someone we both know well…”

    Chris’s mind raced. For Quentin not to just come right out and say it—it must be someone they both knew very well indeed! The possibilities raced across Chris’s mind—who could it be that Quentin was so reluctant to name? Mrs. Sarah Johnson? Laszlo Ferrari? Amy?” Chris’s eyes widened and he gasped out loud. “Amy! Oh God, Quentin! Did I kill Amy?” Chris’s heart raced at the possibility that he had killed his little sister.

    Quentin shook his head again. “No Chris, it wasn’t Amy. It was… Sabrina!”

    Chris’s mouth hung open, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. “Sa—Sabrina? No! I couldn’t…” Chris gasped and started to cry. He put his hands up to his face.

    Quentin felt himself start to cry as well, and pulled Chris into his arms. “It’s all right… It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault…” Quentin rubbed Chris’s back as he sobbed.

    “What… where did it happen?” Chris asked between sobs. He clung to Quentin for dear life.

    “She went to your cabin yesterday afternoon. She had another moon poppy for you,” Quentin explained. “I assume she made it too late—I arrived soon after sunset and tried to stop you from killing her…”

    “Oh God, Quentin!” Chris gasped. “I don’t believe it! Not Sabrina!” he cried into Quentin’s shoulder…

    Act Three:

    Angelique had slipped out of John’s bed before he woke that morning. Even though she enjoyed being with him--especially since she had not been with a man since Sky Rumson—she did not want him to think that they were becoming an item. Her mind was firmly set on one man—and that man was Quentin Collins. With Quentin at her side, and finally the Mistress of the Old House—she would call it Collins House after they were married—all of her lifelong dreams would finally come to their fruition…

    After getting dressed and leaving John a note downstairs in the foyer next to the new telephone, Angelique came up the path from the Old House to find Tony Peterson getting out of his car. “Good morning, Angelique!” he called to her as he stepped away from his car with his briefcase.

    “Oh, good morning!” Angelique quickly looked towards the mansion as she noticed Tony studying her face intently. “Are you here to see Quentin, as well?”

    “Yes,” Tony tapped his briefcase. “I had some papers for Quentin to sign.”

    “I didn’t know you were Quentin’s lawyer…” Angelique said, as she knocked on one of the front doors.

    “Just in the last couple of weeks… Say, Mrs. Rumson, Angelique… have we met at some party in town, or something? I swear I’ve seen your face before…”

    “Oh, maybe in a magazine, or something?” Angelique answered. She knocked on the door again, but there was no answer. “I used to model back in New York before I married Sky Rumson.”

    “Hmm, maybe that’s it,” Tony answered. Of course he wasn’t one to read women’s magazines, but maybe he had seen Angelique’s picture while rummaging through a magazine at the dentist once or twice.

    Just then, Quentin came around the corner from Chris’s cottage. He had left Chris much calmer than he was before. Chris had promised to let Quentin drive him back up to the cabin that afternoon and make sure that he could not escape from it this time.

    Quentin saw Tony and Angelique standing in front of Collinwood, and tried to put on a brave front. “Good morning, all, I hope you weren’t waiting long… I just told Chris about Sabrina.”

    “Oh, no Quentin! How did he take it?” Angelique asked.

    “He was understandably upset, but I think I managed to calm him down. I’m going back later to spend more time with him.” Quentin gave Angelique a sad little smile. “I think I’d better spend this night with him, just in case…”

    “I understand,” Angelique told him, as he opened the door to let the two into the house. “I can stay with Amy, if you’d like…”

    Quentin nodded in agreement. He turned to Tony. “What did you want to see me about, Tony? Was it Sabrina’s will? I don’t think Chris would be up to it today… Maybe tomorrow?”

    “I actually have another matter to discuss with you,” Tony said. “I have some papers for you to sign…”

    “All right,” Quentin answered. “Let me go back and see Mrs. Johnson about Amy, then I’ll meet you in the study…”

    Angelique and Tony watched Quentin go back. “He’s holding up remarkably well,” Angelique said to Tony. “Especially after that ordeal at the cabin…”

    “It’s hard to believe he’s the same person that got so drunk last night,” Tony told her. “Maybe now that the shock is over, he won’t need to drink so heavily again,” he mused. “But, I’m actually worried more about Chris Jennings… How do you get over your girlfriend dying in such a horrific way?”

    “It will take time, and patience, and a lot of support from family and friends,” Angelique answered. “He still has that little girl to live for—that’s one thing.”

    As Angelique said this, however, she thought about how Sabrina’s death would actually put an end to John’s worrying about her. Now that she was out of the way, Angelique could use John’s psychic abilities to her own advantage. Angelique turned away from Tony and faced the Portrait of Barnabas Collins—and smiled…


    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Chris Jennings… DON BRISCOE

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

  3. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1002: The Sacrificial Wolf

    Tue. Apr. 28, 1970

    The day after the full moon... Sabrina Stuart has been killed by the werewolf, and Quentin Collins has been faced with the seemingly impossible task of telling Chris Jennings of her death... What Quentin hasn't told him is that Chris's younger sister Amy knows the truth about Chris, and has witnessed Sabrina's death herself...

    David Collins, newly returned from Boston with his father, Roger, came home while Quentin and Tony were in the study. Roger had left almost immediately, having heard gossip from the cannery that his “young” cousin had not been doing such a good job at the cannery after all—the other employees had been doing the brunt of the work while Roger was in Boston. Roger had hurried away muttering to himself about saving a sinking ship while leaving his suitcases with a thrilled Mrs. Johnson to unpack.

    David heard Quentin and Tony Peterson saying good-bye downstairs. He rushed out from unpacking his suitcase in his bedroom. “Quentin!” he called out in greeting, “I’m back!”

    Quentin looked up to see David standing up on the balcony above the Great Hall. The balcony railing wobbled as the growing young man grasped it and shook it with excitement at seeing Quentin again.

    "Be careful, David," Quentin warned. "We'll need to get that railing fixed before someone breaks their neck!"

    “All right!” David let go of the railing and ran down the stairs to give Quentin a hug. Quentin hugged the boy back, and gave a weak smile. Quentin put an arm across David’s shoulders as the two turned and walked into the Drawing Room.

    “How did you like Boston, David?” Quentin asked. “Do you think you’ll want to live there for school?”

    “I liked it pretty well,” David was more excited about going to Boston than he had been before leaving earlier in the month. “I guess Oakley Prep won’t be so bad. I decided I want to go there this fall.” David did not notice Quentin's morose mood. “I hope Amy won’t miss me too much…”

    They found Amy sitting in the Drawing Room, staring at the fire. “Hi Amy! I’ve been looking for you! Maggie sent a couple of things for you! She’s visiting a sick aunt in New Hampshire…” David greeted Amy, but she barely responded. She continued to just stare at the fire.

    David looked up puzzled at Quentin. “Sabrina was killed last night,” Quentin told David quietly, “She was mauled by a bear up at Chris’s cabin…” Amy’s eyes narrowed as she heard Quentin’s excuse.

    David looked shocked and turned back to Amy. “I’m sorry Amy—Sabrina seemed like such a nice lady.”

    Amy did not acknowledge him. She got up and walked up to Quentin, who kneeled down in front of her. "Please let me see Chris before you leave for the cabin," she begged.

    “Of course,” Quentin agreed, he was just glad that she was speaking to him again.

    Unbeknownst to them, a woman dressed all in white stood appeared outside of the caretaker's cottage. Her long, flowing robes fluttered in the Spring breeze as wildflower petals flew by her. She stood in front of the cottage window and stared inside. She brought her hands up to her face and wept...

    Act One:

    As Quentin and Amy walked down to the cottage hand in hand, Quentin looked down from time to time, wondering what the quiet young girl was thinking. He knew that Sabrina’s death had been a blow to her, especially with the knowledge that it was Chris who had killed her.

    For Amy’s part, she did not know how she felt. For her, Chris was the last of her family. As much as she loved the Collins family, she did not feel they were truly hers. She was not aware of the family connection through Quentin. All Amy knew was that her parents were dead, her brother Tom was dead, and now Sabrina, who she’d hoped would become her sister-in-law was now dead as well. Amy stared ahead towards the caretaker’s cottage, ignoring the beauty of the Spring day. For her, there was no more beauty in the world. There was only the ugliness of reality. And that reality was that Chris was cursed—and, he was all that she had left…

    Amy pointed towards the front cottage window. "Look Quentin, there's somebody else in there!" It was hard to tell who it was, but it seemed to be a woman's figure, dressed all in white.

    Quentin looked, but he wondered if it was a trick of the sunlight. They came up to the front door and stopped. Quentin knocked on the front door twice, but there was no answer. Inside the cottage, the Woman in White sobbed in her hands as she walked across the room.

    Quentin opened the front door tentatively, and peered inside the dark room. "Chris, I brought Amy to see you!" he called out, but there was no answer. Quentin, followed by Amy, stepped inside and looked for the person they saw through the front window, but she was gone. Flicking the light next to the front door, Quentin’s eyes widened with shock, and he gasped as he looked towards the back of the room. "Amy, don't come in!" Quentin exclaimed, turning behind him and trying to push Amy back out of the cottage.

    But, Amy struggled against Quentin and poked her head under his arm. She stared at what Quentin was trying to shield her from across the room and screamed with horror. Towards the back of the room, hanging from the rafters, a man’s body swung back and forth slowly. "Chris!" she screamed, breaking free from Quentin grasp and running over to Chris's hanging body. An overturned chair lay on the floor beneath him. "No!" Amy cried, collapsing on her knees below Chris’s body.

    Quentin quickly came up behind the young girl and knelt beside her. She turned away from the horrible sight of her brother's hung body and buried her face into Quentin's chest. Quentin stared up at Chris with a horrified expression. "Chris..." he murmured, not really believing it had come to this. Judging by the angle of Chris's head, his neck had most certainly been broken by the hanging. Quentin closed his eyes with shame as he held Amy, feeling guilty he was never able to help his great-grandson.

    Quentin held Amy for along time. Perhaps it was only a few minutes, but for Quentin it felt like an eternity. Finally, Quentin realized it was too horrible to continue to sit on the floor beneath the body. "Come on, Amy, we've got to call the police..." Quentin told her.

    Amy wiped the tears from her face, and nodded up at Quentin. They stood, and Amy leaned against Quentin as he led her out of the cottage. Amy realized that she was now completely alone. Quentin and the other Collins would not replace her family.

    Neither Quentin nor Amy saw the Woman in White as she watched them leave. She came back out after Quentin shut the cottage door. Her long brown hair flowed behind her as she stared up at the hanging body…

    Act Two:

    “No, I’ve never heard of this Chris Jennings…” Buffie Harrington said into the bar phone. “I’ll ask around…” She looked up and saw the front door of the Blue Whale open. “I’ve got to go!” she said quickly, and hung up the phone. "Back so soon?" Buffie called from behind the bar as John strode into the Blue Whale. A jaunty, instrumental rock tune played on the juke box.

    John smiled bittersweetly. "Yeah, it wasn't the best of nights last night..." He pulled up a stool and sat at the bar in front of her.

    "More girl trouble?" Buffie arched an eyebrow. "Which one was it? The friend... or the one who wasn't really a friend?"

    John shook his head. "I really don't want to talk about it--it's too terrible," he said, ignoring her questions. John nodded to the alcohol bottles behind her. "I'll have a spiced rum, please!"

    Buffie raised both eyebrows and turned back towards the bottles. "Wow!" she reached for the spiced rum. "That bad, huh?"

    John frowned and nodded, and Buffie grabbed two glasses. "I'll tell you what... this first one is on the house." She poured into both glasses and took one for herself. "I'll join you!"

    John gulped down the spiced rum and grimaced. "The girl I told you about--the one I was worried for her life--she was killed last night! Attacked by a... bear--up on Green Mountain!"

    Buffie gasped. "How horrible!" She reached for the spiced rum and poured John another. "I think you need another one on the house! You knew it was going to happen, didn't you?" she guessed.

    John nodded and gulped down the rum. "I guess I see things before they happen..."

    Buffie stared at him, intrigued. “You mean like am I going to get splashed by a passing car while walking, or win the lottery?”

    John shook his head. “I wish it were so mundane. I saw for weeks that the girl—her name was Sabrina—was going to get mauled by an animal. I tried to warn her several times. I dreamt it was going to happen, I heard the growling… and the screams.”

    “That’s absolutely horrific!” Buffie said. She looked down at the shotglass and decided she might take another swig.

    “And then there’s my other friend—her name’s Angelique—I felt uneasy about her the other evening. I couldn’t really explain what it was,” John continued. Now that he was explaining things, it was all pouring out. “But, I felt compelled to come back here and see if she was all right… On the way here, I heard screaming in an alley—it was Angelique… This guy was trying to rape her…” He looked at Buffie with sad eyes. “But, I knew… I KNEW!”

    Buffie looked away, guilty. She was responsible for that attack. She might not have been the man in the alley, but she was responsible. She wondered if their scheme was worth it—really worth the anguish they were causing…

    Act Three:

    David came out of the kitchen with a tray of food that Mrs. Johnson made, to see Quentin and a stone-faced Amy come into the house. "What happened?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

    Quentin looked at Amy, then shook his head at David. "It's Chris... He's gone David."

    David was puzzled. "Gone away? Like, left town?"

    Amy suddenly looked and stared at David, her cheeks still streaked. "He's dead…" she said blankly. "Chris is dead."

    "Amy," Quentin told her, "Go find Mrs. Johnson and stay with her while I call the police."

    Amy looked up at Quentin. "I don't want to see Mrs. Johnson." She turned to go up the stairs. “I’m going to go lie down for awhile.” Quentin and David stared up at her as she slowly walked past the wobbly balcony railing and left open the door to the upstairs hallway.

    Amy walked straight into her bedroom like a somnambulist. Shutting the door behind her, she looked all around the room with a dazed expression on her face. Suddenly, she screamed like a wild animal and jumped on the bed, throwing off the bed-covers and picking up the pillows. She tore at the pillows, exposing all the feathers inside and making them fly all over the room.

    Jumping off the bed, she flung the lamp on the floor, shattering it. She tipped the side table over and went over to the vanity. Flinging the jewelry box at the vanity mirror, the glass shattered into a hundred pieces. Not done yet, she flung a heavy hairbrush at the vanity's glass and broke it some more. Amy ran around the room, flinging books and knick-knacks out of the bookcase, then tipping it over. She pulled all of the drawers out of the desk and showered the room with papers, crayons and pencils.

    Quentin ran to Amy's bedroom and flung open her door. He gasped in shock at the state of the trashed room, but nothing could have been more surprising than the sight of Amy, no longer hysterical, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, calmly singing “London Bridge”.

    Quentin stood there transfixed, unsure of what to say or do. Next to Amy, dressed all in white in a long, flowing gown, knelt Sabrina. She looked the way she used to before she saw Chris transform into the werewolf that first time. Her pretty brown hair was long and straight, flowing past her shoulders. She had an ethereal quality about her. She smiled sadly at Amy, touching the young girl's hand before disappearing right before Quentin's eyes...


    David Collins… DAVID HENESY

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Ghost of Sabrina Stuart… LISA RICHARDS

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY


    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS
  4. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1003: Good-bye, Amy

    Wed. Apr. 29, 1970

    It is a time of Immense Tragedy on the Grand Estate of Collinwood... For Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings are dead, and Amy Jennings now lies catatonic, unresponsive to those around her... Quentin Collins wonders how he can help Amy, when he does not know how to deal with the tragedy himself...

    Amy lay on the sofa in the Drawing Room. Quentin knelt behind the sofa, trying to get her to respond to him, but Amy just stared off into space.

    "Please Amy," Quentin begged. "Chris and Sabrina's funeral is tomorrow. I need you to be by my side. It's gonna break my heart to see them buried..." Quentin held her hand. “Chris named me your guardian Amy, but I want you to know that I don’t see it as an obligation. I love you and I want you to be happy…”

    Amy still did not speak. Quentin sighed and got up from behind the sofa. He walked out into the Great Hall and turned back to look at Amy one more time. Shutting the Drawing Room doors behind him, he lifted up the receiver on the phone on the hall table. Pausing for a moment, he decided he had no choice but to call Windcliff…

    "Hello, Dr. Julia Hoffman, please," he spoke into the phone after someone answered. "Quentin Collins..." Quentin stared at Barnabas' portrait, wishing he were there to help him. "Julia! Yes, I know... I can hardly believe it myself... Yes, I understand... No, I know how hard it would be... I don't blame you... Actually, the reason I'm really calling is because of Amy... Yeah, she's not dealing too well, poor thing... No, she hasn't been speaking, nor eating...”

    Quentin listened and gulped as he stared at the Grandfather clock. “I don't even think she's slept since she trashed her room yesterday... Yes, she trashed her room, then she stopped, just stopped doing anything... Once in a while she'll sing to herself... A Doctor Kassem? This afternoon? All right, Julia, we'll be expecting him... Thanks Julia... And Julia, I know Chris would understand… Trust me, I know how hard it is… Good-bye Julia…"

    Quentin hung up the phone, and shook his head at Barnabas' portrait. "Oh, Barnabas, if only you were here! So much has happened lately…" But of course, Quentin knew that THAT was not possible.

    David came out onto the balcony above him and started down the stairs. “David!” Quentin said to the boy as he came down, “Maybe you could sit and talk to Amy… I’ve tried, but maybe she’ll respond to you…”

    David stepped off the last step and looked nervously toward the Drawing Room. “Um… I don’t think so Quentin, I wouldn’t know what to say!”

    “Anything, David,” Quentin told him. “The funeral is tomorrow—we’ve got to help her through this—I need help to get through this!”

    David anxiously looked toward the Drawing Room, then the front doors. “I was going out Quentin—I’ll try to talk to Amy later!” David rushed towards the foyer.

    “David, please!” Quentin called after him.

    “Later!” David answered, hurriedly opening the front doors and closing them behind him. Quentin sighed and looked over at Barnabas’ portrait for help that would not come…

    Act One:

    Hannah du Noir returned to the Old House to work on Josette's, or Angelique's, new bedroom again. Angelique ushered her in the front door. Hannah carried a large, square-shaped parcel under her arm. She looked around nervously, but also amazed at the changes that had happened in the past couple of weeks.

    “I see the moving men brought in the new furniture I—well, we—picked out,” she said, side-eyeing Angelique. She set the parcel down against the nearest chair.

    Angelique eyes widened when she saw it. “Is that what I think it is, Hannah?” she asked eagerly.

    Hannah smiled and nodded. “Dominic had finished re-framing it and getting rid of the um… inscription you wanted removed.”

    Angelique eagerly tore off the paper and removed a large painting. Turning it around, she showed it to Hannah. It was a portrait of Angelique herself, dressed in an elegant blue evening gown, done last year as a Christmas present from Sky. “To Angelique ~ Love Sky,” was what it used to say,” Angelique told the older woman. “What a joke that was…” Angelique carried the painting over to the mantelpiece above the fireplace and propped it up where Barnabas’ modern portrait had hung. “I think I’ll like it, right here,” she told Hannah.

    “Very nice, Angelique,” Hannah said admiringly. But, began to look nervous when she looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose you’ll want to work on your new bedroom some more,” she said with just a little apprehension.

    Angelique’s eyes narrowed as she turned away from admiring her painting. “Of course, Hannah, that’s what I’m paying you for!” She walked over to the black-haired woman. “Stop worrying, Hannah, I assure you there is nothing to be afraid of up there in that room!” Hannah nodded, and went back to her car to retrieve assorted pictures and curtains for Angelique’s room.

    While Hannah was outside, Angelique took down the painting and looked at it some more. She propped it up against a chair. “I’ll just have John hang this up later,” she told herself. Angelique felt a presence in the room, and hugged herself. “Is that you, Barnabas?” she asked out loud, looking at the bookcase. “Are you unhappy with all the changes I’ve made?” she asked, smiling. But then, her eyes narrowed. “Jasmine?” she whispered. Why would she smell jasmine from Barnabas? Angelique looked around angrily.

    Hannah came in carrying a box to bring upstairs. “Angelique, I’m going to get started now!” she called into the drawing room.

    “All right, Hannah, I’ll be right up!” Angelique answered, still sniffing the air. The smell of jasmine seemed to have disappeared.

    Upstairs, in Josette’s old room, Hannah set the box down and began to unpack. She got the distinct impression that there was someone behind her. Hannah reached behind her neck and felt the goosebumps.

    “Who’s there?” she demanded. She looked around the room, but of course, it was empty. Hannah sniffed—she could have sworn she smelled jasmine. Behind Hannah, the eyes on Josette’s painting began to glow…

    Act Two:

    David left Collinwood, mostly because of how uncomfortable he felt around Amy, but also to avoid the solemness that had overtaken the Great House since he had returned from Boston.

    Walking down the path to go visit the Old House, David realized that when he had left for Boston, the trees were still barren, but now, many of them had grown leaves now at the end of April. This sudden outburst of life was a stark contrast to the mood at Collinwood nowadays.

    Upon exiting the path to the Old House, David was startled to see a black ’57 Chevy with pink interior parked in front of the Old House. Not only that, but the road to the house looked much more used that it used to when only Julia Hoffman was the only person who occasionally parked there. He also noticed the electrical wires and telephone poll outside the home. His eyes narrowed.

    He ran into an older woman with black hair in an updo carrying a large box into the Old House. A vase and some orange fabric poked out of the top. “Who’re you?” David demanded. If there was one thing David Collins did not like and that was change. He did not like to see too many strangers hanging about what he perceived to be his territory. It had taken him three years to get used to Barnabas Collins and Julia Hoffman.

    Hannah paused and raised her eyebrows at the forthright young man with the light brown shaggy hair. “Hannah du Noir!” she exclaimed. “I’m helping Angelique redecorate… Is that all right with you?” she asked sarcastically.

    “Angelique?” David asked incredulously. A lot HAD changed since he had left for Boston. The last he heard, Barnabas had a houseguest named Angelique before he left for England—at least, that’s what the adults told him—but he did not think that Barnabas would give someone permission to change the Old House! “Yeah, sure…” David said, deep in thought. He did not think Barnabas was going to be too happy when he returned! Hannah stared at him a moment, then hurried inside.

    Her arms full, Hannah left the door open behind her. David followed and looked around. The first thing he noticed was that there was a new paint job downstairs. The second thing he noticed was the telephone sitting on the foyer table.

    David walked into the drawing room, staring at the new furniture, rugs and curtains. But, the most fascinating thing in the room was that Barnabas’ portrait was no longer hanging over the fireplace. Next to the fireplace, propped up against an arm chair, was the painting of a beautiful blonde woman in a blue evening dress. Even though he had only briefly seen Angelique once before he left for Boston, David did not doubt that THAT was the woman in the portrait.

    David reached over and lightly touched the face of the woman in the portrait. She seemed very familiar to him, as though he had met her before and had known her before she came to stay at the Old House with Barnabas. David racked his brain, trying to remember how and where he had known her…

    “What are you doing here?” A high woman’s voice demanded behind him. David whirled around and saw Angelique in the flesh.

    “I-I was just visiting!” David stammered. “Barnabas used to let me come here all the time.” David thought back, he remembered staying here for quite some time, but it was like a dream to him—as though he had only half-lived here… Angelique scowled, eyeing him, then the bookcase beside the fireplace.

    Act Three:

    Dr. Alfred Kassem was sent by Julia to see Amy at Collinwood. Alfred was an early middle-aged man with jet black hair, and thick glasses with rims the same color. After meeting with Quentin in the Great Hall for a few minutes, he asked to be alone with Amy. Quentin stared after him as he closed the Drawing Room doors, concerned. He sighed and told himself that if Julia trusted Dr. Kassem with Amy, then he would have to as well.

    Alfred studied Amy laying propped up on the sofa for a moment, then strode calmly over to the young girl. He sat down in the chair directly across from her. He looked at her, but she stared blankly at something—maybe it was the fireplace, or a curtain, or maybe even a spot on the floor—Alfred could not tell. Finally, he spoke aloud.

    “Hello, Amy. My name is Dr. Alfred Kassem, but you can call me Al for short,” he told her, but not unkindly. No answer.

    “I understand two people that you love very much just died… I’m very sorry for your loss…” No answer.

    “If you’d like to talk to me about it, I’m all ears. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s fine too…” No answer.

    Alfred studied Amy for a few minutes, but she did not even seem to look at him. Alfred picked up a satchel he brought in with him and took something out. It was a doll. “I brought a friend with me today,” he told her. “She lost her family too. Do you want to be her family, Amy?” Dr. Kassem placed the doll on her lap and sat back in his chair to watch her.

    After a few minutes, Amy felt the doll on her lap and began to grasp it. She slowly pulled it up into her arms and rocked it like a baby. Amy began to sing, still staring off into space. “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…”

    Later, Quentin and David were waiting out in the Great Hall, when Drawing Room doors opened, and Dr. Kassem came out with Amy. She was holding a doll in her arms and staring blankly ahead. Quentin looked at her, then at Alfred. “Well?”

    Alfred shook his head. “I think it would be best if Amy stayed with us at Windcliff for awhile,” he told him. Alfred looked down at Amy.

    “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for her here?” Quentin asked.

    Alfred shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ll call Dr. Hoffman and have her prepare a room for her. Do you think you could pack a suitcase for Amy?” Quentin nodded, then went to find Mrs. Johnson.

    Alfred looked down at Amy again. “Amy, do you want to say good-bye to anyone?” Amy just stared straight ahead.

    David glanced up at Dr. Kassem, then at Amy. “Good-bye Amy! I’ll miss you!”

    Amy did not look at David. She began to rock her doll in her arms and started singing. “Take the key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up…” David just stared at her, his mouth slightly open…


    David Collins… DAVID HENESY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dr. Alfred Kassem… EDMUND HASHIM
  5. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1004: The Portrait

    Thu. Apr. 30, 1970

    On this day, Amy Jennings has had a nervous breakdown after two deaths in succession—those of Chris Jennings and Sabrina Stuart… Facing no other choice, but to commit Amy to Windcliff, Quentin watches as she leaves with Dr. Kassem… Meanwhile, at the Old House, Hannah du Noir will be terrified…

    Upstairs, in Josette’s old room, Hannah set the box down and began to unpack. She got the distinct impression that there was someone behind her. Hannah reached behind her neck and felt the goosebumps.

    “Who’s there?” she demanded. She looked around the room, but of course, it was empty. Hannah sniffed—she could have sworn she smelled jasmine. Behind Hannah, the eyes on Josette’s painting began to glow.

    Hannah felt an icy cold hand touch her neck—she gasped and held the back of her neck, standing straight. She whirled around, and that’s when she noticed the Portrait of Josette Collins, and her glowing eyes…

    Hannah screamed in horror. A gust of wind blew into the room, even though the windows were shut. The closet doors clattered back and forth, seemingly on their own. Hannah screamed raspily.

    Hearing Hannah’s screams, Angelique rushed into the bedroom. “Hannah! What is it?” But even Angelique could not deny that she saw things moving on their own.

    “That-that portrait!” Hannah gasped, pointing. “It’s EYES were glowing!”

    Angelique looked, but Josette’s image looked normal. Angelique’s eyes narrowed, and she walked over to Josette’s painting, staring at it intently.

    “I’ll not come back up to this room!” Hannah exclaimed. “I won’t—never!” With that, she turned and ran out of the room and down the stairs as fast as a woman in her fifties could run.

    Angelique scowled and looked back at Josette’s face. “I’ve about had enough of you!” she spat at the portrait. “This is MY house now, Josette, and there’s NOTHING you can do about it!” With that, Angelique took Josette’s portrait off of the wall and carried it out of the room.

    Downstairs, Hannah had already gotten in her car and left with the squealing of tires. Angelique looked at the open front door and shook her head. Carrying Josette’s portrait to the fireplace, Angelique stood and stared at it for a moment. “You no longer belong in this house!” she told the portrait. “I command you to leave, and never return!” Angelique flung Josette’s portrait in the fire, and watched it burn with a gleeful satisfied grin on her face…

    Act One:

    Tony and Quentin sat in the Drawing Room to discuss Chris’s trust fund for Amy, while preparing for Chris and Sabrina’s double funeral.

    "It's quite a complicated affair," Tony told Quentin. "Basically, Sabrina named Chris, instead of her brother Ned, as her sole beneficiary. Now, with Chris deceased as well, Amy is now the beneficiary of both wills, with you as executor, Quentin..."

    Quentin took a gulp of brandy and grimaced. "Amy... how am I going to help her if I can't even help myself? Everything is falling apart around me, Tony," Quentin sighed.

    Outside the Drawing Room, Dameon stood outside and eavesdropped.

    Tony leaned forward with his own brandy. "Then there's the other matter of Amy's guardianship, Quentin. You say you're a distant cousin on Chris's mother's side? Well, we have to put out a letter in the major newspapers, and if no other relative claims Amy, you can apply for custody of her while she's still a minor.

    Quentin stood up and poured himself some more brandy. "All right Tony, but I still think Elizabeth should be Amy's guardian. I don't think I can be much use to her.... In fact, I've decided to leave Collinwood. With Dameon around, and with everything else that's happened, I don't feel like I have any other choice."

    Dameon narrowed his eyes and frowned as he listened.

    “Are you sure leaving is the best decision, Quentin?” Tony asked. Quentin nodded sadly, taking another gulp of brandy…

    After Tony’s meeting with Quentin, he took Laszlo to the Old House to visit Angelique one last time. Laszlo was returning to New York to record his new record, and Tony insisted on driving him to the train station.

    “Wow, you’ve certainly changed things around here!” Tony remarked, staring at all the changes in the downstairs of the Old House. He had visited a couple of years ago, when Barnabas was still the master of the Old House, instead of secretly entombed in the Secret Room.

    “I wish I could see it, Angelique…” Laszlo said, feeling the plushness of the sofa.

    “Maybe you can, someday,” Angelique told him. “Are you still seeing sparks of light?”

    “Now and then,” Laszlo answered. “While I’m in New York, I’m going to go see an eye specialist. I haven’t seen one since I was a teenager and was told there was no hope I would ever see again.”

    “I’m glad you’ve decided to see a specialist, Laszlo,” Angelique told him, stroking the side of his face. “I just know you’ll be able to see ME someday! Oh, and speaking of seeing ME, I wish you could see my new portrait.” Angelique walked over to the armchair beside the fireplace and picked up her picture. The pieces of wood frame from Josette’s portrait still smoldered in the fireplace…

    Act Two:

    “Wow, Angelique! It looks just like you!” Tony exclaimed. He studied Angelique’s portrait, still thinking about how he could have sworn he met her at some point in years past…

    “Can you help me hang it up, Tony?” Angelique asked. “I have John’s toolbox right here. He’s out on errands right now, and I just can’t wait another moment.”

    “Certainly,” Tony answered. He took off his suit jacket and opened up the toolbox.

    “I wish I could see it,” Laszlo remarked bitterly, while Tony stepped on the stool in front of the fireplace to hammer in the picture hangings.

    “You WILL, I have a great feeling about it!” Angelique gave him a little hug. She looked over at the fireplace and watched as the last of Josette’s portrait disintegrated in the fire…

    Meanwhile, at the Great House, Quentin sat up in his chambers in the West Wing, finishing off the bottle of brandy. He sat drunkenly in an armchair, listening to the ancient Victrola as it played the music he used to listen to all the time when he was a young man, over seventy years ago.

    Dameon came into the room without knocking, holding a bottle of champagne and some glasses. He stopped and shook his head at the drunk Quentin sitting there, listening to the old-timey music. “Wow, you sure have some strange tastes in music, Grant!” He set the champagne and glasses on the little table and sat in the chair next to Quentin.

    Quentin looked over at Dameon and grinned. “I’ll have you know this was ex… ex-tree… extreme… really popular when I was young…”

    Dameon laughed and reached over and poured the champagne in the two glasses. “I hear we’re leaving Collinwood… So, I got some champagne to have a little going-away party.” He took Quentin’s brandy and handed him the glass of champagne.

    Quentin took the glass of champagne and stared at Dameon. “How d’ya know that?”

    “Oh, I was eavesdropping during your visit with Tony Peterson today,” Dameon explained, as he sipped the champagne. “Are we going back to Portland? It’s a shame, really, to leave this place… I mean, the house in Portland is nice, of course, but this…” He gestured around the room.

    Quentin leaned forward in his seat and swayed back and forth. “Whataya mean—WE? You’re going back to Portland. I gave you the house, remember? I’m goin’ far away—I don’t even care where anymore…”

    Dameon sipped his champagne and smiled. “And what about our poor dearly departed old friend, Frederick? You may not be going too far away, Grant, if you go to the state prison for murder…”

    Quentin laughed and drank his champagne. “You’re still going to hold that over my head, Dameon? Frederick wasn’t the first person I’ve killed in my one hundred and thirty years on this Earth!”

    Dameon just stared at Quentin in disbelief…

    Act Three:

    “Oh Grant, a hundred and thirty years?” Dameon scoffed with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not surprised Frederick wasn’t the first murder you’ve committed, but over a hundred years? I’ve always suspected you’re older than you look—but not that old!”

    Quentin stopped swaying and appeared to sober up. He looked Dameon straight in the eyes. “It’s true. I have an old painting in the attic that keeps me as young and alive as I was seventy years ago.”

    Dameon shook his head in disbelief. He gave a little chuckle, but he saw that Quentin was serious. Dameon was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “All right, prove it! Show me this “magic” painting that keeps you young!”

    Quentin nodded. “All right, I WILL!” He got up from the arm chair a little unsteadily. He dropped the champagne glass on the floor with a shatter and grabbed Dameon’s arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

    Dameon brought a flashlight with them as he helped the drunkenly swaying Quentin up the attic stairs. Cobwebs and dust covered the maze of furniture, portraits, and knick-knacks that occupied the large Collinwood attic. Dameon peered around the darkness.

    “Turn on that lamp above you!” Quentin commanded. Dameon pulled the switch, and Quentin looked around, trying to remember where he had stashed his portrait after Julia had rediscovered it for him a few months ago.

    Quentin found it where he had left it—behind an Oriental screen in case someone else came up to the attic to look for something. “Here it is!” he called over to Dameon. He pulled off the sheet covering the portrait and stepped aside so that Dameon could see it. “Behold… the Portrait of Quentin Collins!”

    Dameon shone the flashlight at the old picture, and gasped in revulsion at what was painted there. The picture did not look anything like the tall, handsome, young-looking man that stood beside him. The portrait held a decaying zombie dressed in late Nineteenth Century clothes.

    Dameon held his free hand up to his face and looked at Quentin with disgust. “Is this some kind of joke?”

    Quentin smiled and shook his head. “No, no joke. As you can see, the image in the painting decays, while I stay young. The only way to end my life is to destroy the painting.” Quentin stepped close to Dameon and put his hands on Dameon’s shoulders. “So, why don’t you do it old friend? I don’t want to live anymore, anyway…”

    Dameon backed away and shook his head in confusion. “No, you’re joking… A hundred and thirty years old… A magic painting with some sort of zombie painted on it… You’re sick Grant, really sick!”

    Quentin chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, I’m sick all right. I deserve every bad thing that’s ever happened to me…” He pulled the sheet over the offending portrait and replaced the screen in front of it. “Come on, let’s go finish that champagne in my room.”

    As Quentin led Dameon out of the attic, Dameon turned and looked back at the Oriental screen, wondering if there was any truth to what Quentin was saying…


    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    Laszlo Ferrari… MICHAEL STROKA

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES
  6. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1005: Rise And Fall

    Fri. May 1, 1970

    Today has been one of the difficult days Quentin Collins has ever had… For Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings' double funeral has been held… Returning to Collinwood after the funeral, Quentin has decided to tell Angelique that he plans to leave Collinwood forever…

    Angelique walked with Quentin back to Collinwood after Chris and Sabrina’s funeral. A reception was being held at the Collinsport Inn, but Quentin did not feel as though he could stand to attend. He let Roger and David, along with Mrs. Johnson, go without him.

    After coming inside the front doors of the Great House, Quentin immediately went for the liquor cart in the Drawing Room. “Do you think that is wise, Quentin?” Angelique asked, concernedly. “You told me about your hangover this morning, and how you couldn’t remember what you did last night…”

    Quentin gulped down some brandy and grimaced. “I’m pretty sure I only dreamt that I showed Dameon my portrait.”

    “It doesn’t help to be too careful,” Angelique admonished. “Do you think you can trust your… friend?”

    “My friend…” Quentin said with a chuckle. “Dameon would steal from his own mother, if he thought it could benefit him!”

    Angelique looked surprised. “Why are you friends with him, then? Why let him stay at Collinwood?”

    Quentin looked wistful. “We have a history, Angelique. For years in Portland, he was the only person I could talk to…” Quentin looked up at Angelique. “We’re both leaving—tomorrow at the latest—but I cannot stay at Collinwood…”

    “Quentin!” Angelique exclaimed. “No! What about me, Quentin? And what about Maggie Evans, too! When she comes back from visiting her sick aunt…”

    “Maggie…” Quentin murmured, thinking of the stack of postcards from Boston and the letters he had from her, mostly unread, all of them unanswered. His romance with Maggie seemed a million years ago…

    They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Angelique answered for Quentin, and found Horace Gladstone standing there. “Horace!” Angelique gasped. She looked back to the Drawing Room nervously.

    “I’d like to speak to Mr. Quentin Collins,” Horace Gladstone said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Angelique…” he whispered.

    “Certainly,” she answered, “Horace.” Angelique shook her head with bemusement. She closed the doors behind them as Horace took off his coat and looked around the Great Hall with awe.

    “You have a visitor,” Angelique called into the Drawing Room. She walked in with Horace in tow, who smiled as he looked into the room at Quentin…

    Act One:

    Quentin barely looked up from pouring himself another brandy. “Who’re you?” he demanded, raising an eyebrow and swigging down his glass of brandy…

    “Mr. Horace Gladstone,” Horace offered his hand to shake, and Quentin quickly took it before setting the brandy decanter back onto the cart. Horace looked over at Angelique for help. “I was at the funeral… I worked with Sabrina at the library… I’m very sorry for what happened.”

    “Thank you,” Quentin answered. He took his newly refilled brandy and sat on the sofa.

    Horace glanced at Angelique again, and walked over to the sofa. “Uh, Mr. Collins… Do you happen to know what happened to the moon poppy I gave Miss Stuart? You see, I have a greenhouse on my property, and I was the one who gave it to her… as a gift.”

    Quentin stared at Horace in surprise. “You… gave Sabrina the moon poppy? Why?” Quentin leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “How much do you know, Mister… Gladstone… was it?”

    Horace looked down. “Well, I’ve been reading the papers for the past two years, and I put two and two together since Sabrina started working at the library…” Horace glanced back at Quentin. “It’s surprising the secrets people will talk about out loud when they think no one is listening…” Horace looked over at Angelique. “It pays to be an unremarkable-looking, quiet man, I guess.”

    Quentin shook his head with amazement. “Then you can guess what really happened to Sabrina, then.”

    Horace nodded. “I presumed the creature finally killed her…”

    Quentin sipped at his brandy. “And with Chris also dead, I suppose there’s no reason to tell anyone else about this, is there?” Quentin looked pointedly at him.

    “No, no one would believe me anyway,” Horace admitted. “Mr. Jaeger is probably the only person who would… Mrs. Rumson, I noticed that he was not at the funeral today. Would you happen to know where I could find him?”

    “Of course,” Angelique conceded. “John is staying at my home. Come, I’ll take you to see him. He was extremely depressed after what happened to Sabrina—he really thought he could save her…”

    “I know,” Horace nodded. “Well, Mr. Collins, it was nice finally meeting you… Next time I see you at the Blue Whale, I’ll buy you a drink!”

    Quentin smiled and nodded sadly, thinking how everyone wanted to help Chris and Sabrina, but ultimately failed. As Angelique and Horace walked out of the house, Quentin could only shake his head in amazement that there was someone actively trying to help Chris and Sabrina that whole time…

    Act Two:

    “That was quite a performance, Horace,” Angelique told Horace on their walk along the path to the Old House. “I had no idea that you were helping Chris and Sabrina—a MOON POPPY, indeed!” She shook her head with dismay. “Well, it was a fruitless effort, anyway… Our Master got his payment of pain and misery, after all!”

    “I only wanted to see if it would work!” Horace hissed. “If it had, Chris Jennings and Sabrina Stuart would have been indebted to me!”

    When they reached the Old House, Angelique called up the stairs in the foyer, “John! I’ve brought a visitor who wants to see you!”

    After a few minutes, John came moping down the stairs in a state of deep depression. He had been laying in bed, and now, had hastily put on some clothes to meet them. “You!” he exclaimed when he saw Horace standing in the foyer.

    “Hello, Mr. Jaeger,” Horace smiled. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted. I tried to help Sabrina, myself. I gave her the moon poppy to use on her boyfriend—I probably never should have interfered… I must admit.”

    John was amazed. “You knew all along? I don’t believe it!” He stepped off the stairs. “The moon poppy? That’s a real thing?”

    “Yes, I have my own greenhouse,” Horace said. “Come, let me tell you all about it…”

    Angelique left the two men to talk in the drawing room, and walked upstairs to go to her new room. While Horace was explaining everything to John, they heard the shrillest scream either man had ever heard before. John and Horace stared at each other, then got up and ran upstairs. They found Angelique standing in her room, standing in shock, just inside the doorway.

    “No!” Angelique cried, pointing to the wall, where Josette’s portrait now hung once again. It was completely unscathed—it was as though it had never been burned and destroyed in the fireplace. Angelique brought her hands up to her mouth. “No…”

    John looked over at the painting on the wall, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand, Angelique… Isn’t that the portrait you said you burned—the one you didn’t care for?”

    “Yes,” Angelique nodded, gulping with a mixture of fear and anger, “And it seems to have made a miraculous recover!” She glared at Josette’s face—it seemed to have an expression of satisfaction, now. Angelique turned to Horace. “I think it’s about time we had another… meeting!”

    Act Three:

    Dameon found Quentin sitting and drinking, once again, in the Drawing Room. “Poor Grant,” Dameon smiled. “Your friends are gone, now. It’s just me and you, just like it always was.” He sat next to him on the sofa.

    Quentin shook his head and scowled. “Go away, Dameon, I’m not in the mood.”

    Dameon ignored him and poured some brandy into the glass to take some for himself. “The only thing left to do now is to break it off with that Angelique woman, and then things can finally get back to the way they were before…” He lifted up the glass and took a sip.

    Quentin swiped the glass out of Dameon’s hand, causing it to go flying. “Things are NOT going to go back to the way they were in Portland!” he barked at Dameon, his face red with anger. “I told you I’m going to leave Collinwood! And besides, I don’t let others tell me who I can and cannot see!”

    Dameon wiped the brandy off of his mouth and smiled wryly. “It’s entirely, up to you, GRANT, but we wouldn’t want another little accident happen to the lovely Mrs. Rumson, now would we?”

    Quentin shook his head in confusion. “Accident? What are you talking about, what accident?”

    Dameon stood up. “Remember two weeks ago? Remember she was attacked in the alley? Well, I can’t take full credit for that little ‘accident’, but I could arrange for it to happen again, if you don’t get rid of her!” Dameon stared at Quentin for a moment, then walked out of the Drawing Room to head up the staircase.

    Quentin got up from the sofa and hurried to catch up with him. “Wait… are you telling me you set that up? Dameon!”

    Dameon continued up the stairs, but stopped at the balcony overlooking the Great Hall. “That’s right, Quentin! And unless you start listening to me, and start doing what I say, she might not be so lucky, next time!”

    Quentin’s long legs took him quickly up the stairs, and he finally caught up to him on the balcony. “You bastard…” Quentin shook his head with disgust. “You’re even worse than I ever thought!” Dameon turned to open the hall door, but Quentin grabbed him by the jacket lapels.

    “Let go of me, Grant!” Dameon hissed. He pushed against Quentin’s chest, but Quentin grasped his jacket tightly.

    “You’re gonna leave Collinwood, right now!” Quentin demanded. “And if I ever see you again, ever—I swear to God that I’ll KILL you!”

    Quentin let go of Dameon’s lapels, just as Dameon attempted one more shove on Quentin’s chest. Dameon fell backwards against the wobbly balcony railing, but this time, it broke with a sickening snapping sound.

    Dameon reached out towards Quentin and grabbed Quentin’s jacket, as Quentin tried to stop Dameon’s fall by grabbing his arm. But neither man was able to hold on, and Quentin watched with horror as Dameon fell backwards to the floor of the Great Hall below…


    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY


    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES
  7. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1006: The Seance

    Mon. May 4, 1970

    At the Old House, Angelique has taken over as mistress of the ancient home—but a ghostly inhabitant has decided to fight back… After burning the portrait of Josette Collins, Angelique has been shocked to her very core to find that the painting of Josette has re-materialized…

    After talking John into having a séance with her and the rest of the coven, Angelique called Hannah on the phone. “I want you to come back to my house tonight, Hannah!”

    Hannah stood in her bizarrely decorated living room and frowned. “Tonight? Why?” Hannah frowned with worry. She did not want to go near that presence again!

    “We’re having a seance!” Angelique exclaimed. “At eight o’ clock—I expect you to be there!” After Angelique finished the phone call, she decided to ask Quentin to join them, in person. As she walked down the path to Collinwood from the Old House, she wondered if all her plans to take over were going to be ruined by one, solitary ghost...

    Angelique stopped at the front doors of the mansion and looked back to the path from her vantage point. “I hope Quentin is in decent enough shape to join us tonight, and not drunk with grief!” Angelique said out loud. She knew that he was deeply in mourning for Chris and Sabrina, but maybe the séance would help get his mind off of them, even for a little while. Besides, she needed time to convince him not to leave Collinwood—her plan up to this point was to marry Quentin and become a Collins again. If Quentin left, she would have to change almost everything

    Angelique knocked on the front doors, but neither Quentin, nor Mrs. Johnson, or even Roger answered… Knocking again, Angelique decided that everyone must still be at the funeral reception. She carefully opened the front doors and peered inside. “Hello?” she called into the Great Hall. No answer.

    Angelique stepped inside and closed the doors behind her. Turning around she switched on the lights next to the foyer and gasped in shock at what she saw...

    Dameon Edwards’ body lay on pieces of wood, his head twisted at an unnatural angle—his neck almost certainly broken. The table with the fisherman statue on it had flipped over from the force of Dameon’s body hitting it. Angelique glanced up at the balcony above the Great Hall, and realized that the pieces of wood were parts of the railing that had broken off.

    Angelique stooped over Dameon’s body, feeling for any sign of life. She looked up from the body and looked back up at the broken balcony above. She shook her head with dismay. "Quentin,” she gasped. “Quentin, what have you done?”

    Angelique got up and stepped over the table, and called out: “Mrs. Johnson! Quentin! Anyone?” She walked into the Drawing Room and lifted up the receiver of the desk phone. “Hello, police—I’m calling from Collinwood… There’s been an accident… One of the residents has fallen to his death!” Angelique listened to the officer and thought of Quentin, wondering where he was, what he was doing, and if he was responsible for Dameon’s death…

    Act One:

    Detective Larry Chase stood in the Great Hall of Collinwood, studying the debris all over the floor. The paramedics had already taken Dameon’s body out to the ambulance to take it to the hospital morgue. Angelique stood just outside, watching the ambulance pull away and head back down the driveway to town.

    “There’s been an awful lot of deaths around here, lately...” Larry said to Angelique as she walked back into the hall. “Where did you say the family was, again?”

    Angelique looked startled. “I assume they’re all still at the funeral reception—at... the Collinsport Inn!”

    “The deceased was the houseguest of…” Larry looked at his notepad, “A Mr. Quentin Collins… Is that correct?”

    Angelique shrugged and looked up towards the balcony. She wondered if Quentin was still somewhere in the house, but she did not want Detective Chase to talk to him until she had a chance to. “Of course—they were very good friends!”

    “And where would Quentin Collins be at the moment?” Larry asked Angelique, studying her reactions.

    “I assume he’s with the rest of his family—I just got here myself when I found the body—as I told you before!” Angelique snapped.

    “So... Dameon Edwards was here, all alone,” Larry pressed, “No one was—“

    Just then, the phone rang, and Angelique hurried into the Drawing Room to answer it. “Hello, Collinwood residence?”

    There was a pause of a few seconds, then a woman with a thick Boston accent started to speak. “Yeah, hello? I’m callin’ for a Dameon Edwards? Is he at home right now?”

    Angelique rolled her eyes. “Mr. Dameon Edwards is deceased!”

    There was another pause of a few seconds, then the woman spoke. “Wha-at?” she croaked.

    “Mr. Edwards just had a horrible…” Angelique looked over at Detective Chase, “ACCIDENT! I’m afraid he can’t and won’t ever be coming to the phone!” With that, Angelique hung up the phone.

    At the Blue Whale, Buffie Harrington cradled the phone, staring ahead in a daze, her mouth slightly open. “Dameon…” she whispered…

    After Angelique hung up the phone, she went back out to the Great Hall to face Larry Chase again, but found the man stooped over the chalk outline of Dameon’s body. “What’s this?” he asked aloud, having noticed something glittering in the lamplight. He pulled a pair of tweezers out of his pocket, and a little plastic baggie. He picked up the little round, glittering object into the plastic baggie and held it up in the light.

    “What is it?” Angelique asked, frowning. She looked at the object he held up, and instantly recognized it as being one of the buttons on Quentin’s jacket that he wore that day.

    “Do you recognize this button? It looks like it came from a man’s suit jacket…” Larry held up the little bag in front of her face.

    Angelique shook her head. “No! Of course not! I’m sure I’ve never seen that button before!” she exclaimed. She looked away, wondering where Quentin could have gone…

    Act Two:

    A frantic Buffie looked behind the bar at the Blue Whale for some Kleenex. “It’s a lie,” she told herself. “It’s just some trick. That bitch lied to me…” she nodded to herself, dabbing the corner of her eyes with the newly-found Kleenex.

    She looked up to see Horace Gladstone and John Jaeger walk in. Buffie put on her most brilliant smile. “Hey guys! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two together before!”

    Horace smiled up at John. “Oh, we’re having a little party tonight, and John is feeling a little shy about going.” They sat down on some stools at the bar.

    “Yeah,” John glanced over at him. “Horace is buying me a drink to fortify me, in preparation…”

    “Oh, a party!” Buffie smiled, still sniffling a little bit. “I’d love to come, if you want me?”

    John smiled in agreement and looked over at Horace, but Horace shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Harrington, but it’s a very small, intimate group at someone else’s house, and I’m not sure how the person would feel about an uninvited guest… Maybe the next time—I’ll mention you to her…”

    Buffie smiled again, but looked crestfallen. “Yeah, next time… Okay guys, what’ll it be?!”

    John gave Buffie a weak little smile. “I’m sorry Buffie—I don’t really want to go, myself.”

    Buffie shook her head at John. “It’s all right—really, it is! Now, what can I get you?”

    While they were ordering, Detective Larry Chase walked into the Blue Whale. “Has any of you seen a Mr. Quentin Collins?” he interrupted them at the bar.

    John, Horace and Buffie all glanced at each other questioningly. They all shook their heads. “No—not at all,” Buffie spoke up. “He hasn’t been in here all day.”

    “Well, he hasn’t been at the Collins family’s funeral reception for Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings, either!” Larry told them. “I’d like to find him so I can ask him a few questions!”

    “Why are you looking for Quentin Collins?” John asked. “What’s he got to do with you?” he demanded.

    “A Mr. Dameon Edwards was found dead at Collinwood today—and I’m the detective assigned to the case!” he showed them all his badge.

    Everyone looked shocked, but none looked quite as despairingly as Buffie did, who had to quickly turn away from the bar so that no one could see the tears well up in her eyes…

    Act Three:

    Angelique, Hannah, Horace and John sat in a circle in the drawing room at the Old House. All the electric lights were off and the Old House was lit by candlelight like it always had been until a week ago.

    “I still don’t think we should be doing this, Angelique,” Hannah told her. “I felt that presence upstairs and—“

    “I’m not discussing it any more, Hannah!” Angelique snapped. She looked over at John. “Don’t listen to her John, she’s just an old worrywart…” Angelique turned to each person around the table. “Tonight we are gathered here to contact a higher power—someone who can exorcise this house of the spirit that is trying to drive ME away!”

    John closed his eyes and grimaced. ‘This is so crazy,’ he thought to himself. He could not believe that Angelique had really talked him into this. It was all nonsense, right? But then, John thought about his visions of Sabrina and the werewolf, and realized that anything was possible in this world…

    “Everyone put your hands on the table!” Angelique commanded. “Everyone’s hands must touch the person's on either side of them!” Angelique put her own hands down on the table, and touched Horace’s with her right, and Hannah’s with her left. John sat directly across from her. “Now, we must have complete silence, while everyone concentrate’s on our objective!”

    John kept his eyes closed and concentrated. ‘Is there anyone there?’ he thought to himself. ‘Is there anyone who can help Angelique?’ He kept thinking the same thing over and over. After a few minutes, he began to feel strange, numb. A buzzing sound started to form in his ears, and a pulsating, vibrating feeling started to form around his neck…

    John groaned out loud, and Angelique’s eyes snapped opened. She looked over and saw him with his eyes shut, moaning, his head flopping down. “Ohhhh!” Horace and Hannah looked over at him with surprise.

    “Who is it? Who’s there?” Angelique whispered, breathless with anticipation.

    John opened his eyes with horror and screamed. “No!” Suddenly, a wind blew through the drawing room, and made all of the candles blow out, plunging them into darkness.

    Hannah screamed with terror, and stood up, knocking her chair down behind her. “I-I’m not staying here!” she exclaimed.

    “Hannah!” Angelique shouted. “Stay seated! The circle cannot be broken!” Hannah did not listen, of course, and Angelique heard her run out of the house, not even shutting the door behind her.

    Angelique quickly got up and turned on the nearest lamp. She turned back to the table, and saw that John was staring at her with a wicked smile on his face. “Angelique…” he said, in a voice that was not his own…


    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER


    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES

    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS

    Larry Chase… KEN McEWEN

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