Faith in the Atmosphere - Part 4 (A Dark Shadows Story)

[lovesrain44]

It was a day filled with sleeping rain. Whenever he opened his eyes, it was raining, the room somehow warm for all that, and still. No rushing of wind through the cracks of the windowsill. No floating scent of salt from the sea.

There was a light when it grew dark. The courting candle, now lit as sunset came on in full force.

He drank water. Someone gave him that.

Someone built the fire so it would not go low.

Hands kept the fever from his head with a cool cloth.

No words. Only a low, grave silence attended him as the night came. And a dark form at the end of his bed, watching him while he slept.

*

He shouldn't be out. Not that it was raining, but because his head was still ringing. The muscles in his legs still felt wobbly, his neck hurt like hell, and he was starving, though he could not bear the thought of eating. Besides which, Barnabas thought him surely at home, at the Old House. Sheltering beneath the tile roof, either resting in his room, or attending to chores left to grow old during his day off. There had been no written instructions left on the table when he'd woken that morning, but probably in the vampire's mind, there was no need for any. Not with the gathering dust, the stone-cold ashes, or the pile of supplies that he'd unloaded from the truck that were still waiting in the kitchen and the hallway to be taken upstairs. Plenty of things on the list still for him to do, should he be well enough.

He'd get to those. He would. But he had to find Wesley first. It wasn't the fight that worried him. He'd had plenty of fights with Jason, some that involved fists, no, it wasn't that. Friends fought. It was Wesley's drinking, and the look on his face in the alleyway. He honestly thought Willie had ratted him out to his wife. As if he would. As if he would ever. Not to mention that he'd never met Laura, wouldn't know her if he saw her. Willie pushed aside the memory of Barnabas and those hands. Stroking the hair back from his forehead, eyes glinting with a slight movement as he watched Willie fighting the fever. Watched him. Watched over him. Willie shrugged his shoulders, and made himself attend to his driving.

Making the circuit of town was easier than it should have been, given the rain and the fact that most folks were at work in the morning. Those that weren't were staying in shelter, as a Maine rain tended to be a sloppy affair, making puddles the size of a child's wading pool and bringing back the shout of winter to drown out the promise of spring. The street that Wesley lived on was a sheet of water, with no evidence of his friend or the tow truck.

Willie shivered, and turned up the heat, and turned the wheel back to the center of town. But the hope that Wesley's truck was at Butcher's garage was not granted. The place was open, though not active, and Willie could see Butcher through the damp-streaked window, greasy head bent over something he held in his hands, totally focused. He'd been pissed enough at Willie the other day, and Willie didn't think the Butcher would be any more forthcoming about where Wesley was than he'd been welcoming.

Hot coffee. That's what he needed. Hot coffee and a warm spot to sit while he let the caffeine speed up his brain and help him figure out what he needed to do. The truck found its own spot on a side street near a coffee shop he now frequented, not really having the heart to go back to the one Maggie used to work at, and he strode, collar up, in the rain, towards the awning.

Coming out of the coffee shop, just as he reached it, was Victoria Winters. On an errand, mostly likely. One that involved some private time, as well, as he didn't see either David or Carolyn in evidence. She was wearing her sensible brown coat, and sturdy shoes, which told him for certain that she was out on her own. Carolyn would never permit herself to be seen with someone in such shoes. She clutched her purse tightly in one hand, and turned to spot him. Too late for him to duck into another store, or turn the way he'd come and pretend he'd not seen her. Too late for any of that. He could only walk forward and stop under the awning, thinking maybe he could pretend that he was on his way to somewhere else. Only she figured him out before he could take another step. "Willie," she said. "Are you here to meet someone?" She looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see that he had a companion, perhaps it might be Barnabas, there. He could never tell her that that would never happen.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I was, well, I was driving around looking for Wesley, to make sure was okay an' all. Got tired of driving around in the wet."

"You should warm up with some coffee, then," she said, as ever polite, though her smile seemed small and her grey eyes a little flat. "They've just made up a fresh batch of bear claws, and they smelled very good."

"Didn't you have one?" he asked.

She laughed a little at that, but it was a real laugh. "Girls don't have bear claws," she said. "They have muffins or croissants, or none at all to watch their figures."

His mouth began to water.

"You want one," she said. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Yeah." He turned to go in.

"Listen, Willie." Her hand was on his arm, though she could have stopped him with her expression, the sudden vivid paleness of her face that made her eyes seem black. "I need to talk to you."

"Can it wait, Miss Vicki, I gotta—"

"It'll only take a minute. I wanted to talk to you about the other night."

"The other night?" He knew which one she meant, but perhaps she meant something else, and it was always better to play it safe. "What other night?"

"The night in the alley."

A whisk of wind sent the rain from the awning down his collar as he let his hands drop, as he tried to step to one side to let a couple go into the coffee shop. Close to the vest. He would play it close. And cold. Then she wouldn't want to talk about it.

"What about it?"

"I'm really worried about you, Willie. Mr. Collins, well, he really lost his temper with you. And it would have gotten worse, I know it, if I'd not come along."

She was worried. More worried than he thought he'd ever seen her. Not even the situation with Jason McGuire about to marry Mrs. Stoddard had given her an expression like this one. A worry so great she would head out on a rainy, sloppy day, by herself, to a not-so-fancy coffee shop to work it out in her own mind. That had to be what she'd been doing.

"Aw, don't worry 'bout me, Vicki, I'll be alright." He pretended he was about to laugh.

There was a little pause as she took this in. He saw the fire spark in her eyes just before she opened her mouth and he stepped back.

"Don't you dare dismiss me. You look like you've been rung through the mill and you're as white as snow. And I saw him slap you, not once but three times. He slapped you, Willie, and held you accountable for a fight that was not your fault. And then he beat you. How could he?"

The problem was twofold then. She was worried about him, Willie, because he was human and she was that sort of person. She was also concerned because her oh-so-perfect vision of Barnabas Collins was in dire trouble of being overturned. And she didn't want to be worried about either.

"Does he . . . does he do that a lot? Hit you like that?" She didn't want to know out of idle curiosity, he could tell. It was real knowledge that she was after.

"What, that? It was nothing." He shrugged. Made it casual.

"But he hit you, I saw him." Her eyes were insistent, and her body as well. Strung tight, and never mind the passersby who were eyeing the two of them like a side-show attraction. Should the conversation continue much longer, word would get back to Barnabas that Willie had been in town. He had to end the conversation, and quickly, too. And get her off the scent of the real issue of what exactly was wrong with her favorite suitor.

"He doesn't like it when I fight in town," Willie said, as if the fault were all his own and the fighting a bad habit. "He never has. He wants me to stop. Sometimes, he looses his temper, okay?"

"But—" She stopped, unconvinced, and behind her eyes, he could see her mind working it out. In less than a minute she would come to the conclusion that smacking a man around in an alley outside of a bar was in no way going to teach him not to fight. Not to mention the other issue she had raised that night, that of Barnabas' lack of care for his servant. Willie bore the marks of having been treated hard, there on his face, and, he knew, in his eyes. Sweet miss or not, she was well on her way to bringing the axe to fall on his neck and hers. He had to get her mind off this path and on a completely different road. And fast.

"Look, Vicki, it's really none of your business." He almost shouted it, and she stepped back in surprise. "I'm not your charity case, you know. For fuck's sake, don't you think I would leave if I wanted to?"

Her mouth fell open as her face went white. And in his mouth, he tasted the bitter truth that he might as well have slapped her. She was a foundling, a charity girl, and her sympathy had been with him. Then, in one fell swoop, he'd made her one of those people, those women. Charity as an art, rich women who do good works to make them selves look good. Who knit socks and make hot suppers and make every orphan child they ever tended to feel as human as a speck of dust.

*

There were only so many places Wesley could go, but he had not been in any of them. Willie treated himself to extra bread and butter when he made himself some soup, but it didn't lift his spirits any. His neck was still sore and his back and legs still pounded with blood every time he moved. One more thing wrong with him and he would be down for the count. At least he was home before Barnabas got up, at least there was that. No chance of him finding out that Willie had spent the better part of the day in town, driving about, looking for a friend he should not even have.

Even so, with the birth of dusk and the low, blue light that now coated every object in the room, Willie felt the ripple through his stomach. Glad that he had already eaten most of his supper, glad that it looked like he had been there all day. Knowing that Barnabas was still mad about Victoria Winters and looking for just about any excuse to take his servant down. Like he hadn't already done so and then some. Willie could still feel himself tumbled at Barnabas' feet. Still feel the wide open gash of his soul tearing even still further as he reached out his hands and tugged on the vampire's pant leg. The soundless begging, the desperation, the break in his voice as he said the words over and over, please, please, please. And then his arms around the vampire's neck like a vise. Holding Barnabas close to him whilst the vampire not only drained him of blood, but of pleasure. Wanting it. Welcoming it. What kind of man did that?

He looked at the slice of bread in his hand, blue black in the dark, and wanted to throw up.

The door to the cellar opened, and a second later the door to the kitchen. Willie stayed where he was. If he got up, he would only be backing away, skittering across the plank floor like a crab dancing into the surf. Leading Barnabas to think he'd been up to something wicked that day. The only way to fool the vampire was to sit tight.

The outline of the vampire was there now. Standing like a drawn line, without effort or animation. Only the voice came, like a low, dark growl.

"Did you tend to your chores?" Not a question, no never that. More, an expectation, to be fulfilled, or, if not, taken to task for.

Willie laid the slice on the table next to his soup bowl. "Uh, yeah, I built the fires, but...."

"But what?" The vampire took a step closer, and Willie could smell the anger burning.

He had to stay seated, he had to. Otherwise, the vampire wouldn't believe him.

"I didn't, I mean, I didn't feel so good, you know? The fires are built but I spent most of the day sleepin'."

The best excuse was his. A Barnabas-caused excuse. Lack of blood equals exhaustion equals Willie sleeping it off. Surely the vampire knew this. Even with Willie's quick ability to heal, neither of them knew the full measure of days it should take when a servant has been drained of most of his blood. Now Willie felt he knew. All of one day, and then taking it easy the next day. No mention need be made of his trip to town. Of his chat with Miss Winters. He leaned forward to reach into his back pocket. Pulled out the list from days ago. Unfolded it, and looked at the chores that would take three men a week to do. Willie had never yet, in memory, finished all the requirements on any list. Sometimes the vampire whipped him for it, but this time, both of them knew why there would be no punishment.

"I see."

Willie saw the thickening of a shadow as Barnabas clenched his fists at his sides.

"I should be," started Willie, swallowing, "I should be better, you know, tomorrow."

"Then you are finished here, and may return to your room."

Willie got up. Trying not to overdo it, but slow. He took his dishes to the metal sink, his sleeve whisking against the vampire's arm as he walked. Slow. The ritual of non-avoidance making his stomach dance with nerves. The muscles in his legs stiffen. His mouth was dry as he laid the dishes down and began to walk past the vampire. Barnabas turned to look at him. To watch him as he went down the hall. The hooded glare, sparking in the darkness, burrowing like lances of ice into the back of his head. He was too tired for this, too fraught, wanted nothing but to climb the stairs and sleep.

And thought that the knock at the door was only the echo of his own pounding heart.

"Can you not hear that?" asked Barnabas, his voice sharp.

It came again, a quick, light, rapid staccato.

Willie froze.

"Well, answer it," snapped the vampire.

The air in the hallway cooled even further as Willie walked through it. He heard Barnabas snap the match and light the candle on the console by the stairs. Fumbling with the lock, his hands were icicles, ready to break off. He turned the latch and twisted the knob and swung open the door.

It was Victoria Winters, the second time in three days. Groomed rough by the wind and the chill, pulling her second best coat up to her chin, a dapple of damp on her shoulders. She wore no scarf, he noted, as if she'd hurried over to the Old House on a moment's notice. There was no time even to tell her not to mention their meeting that afternoon as Barnabas step forward.

"Miss Winters." The vampire's astonishment rose in his voice.

"Mr. Collins," she said, ducking her head.

No one said anything for a long moment, the only thing Willie could hear was the rasp of his own breath and the wind whistling low across the tops of tree branches.

"May I," began Victoria, stopping as she seemed to find her own thoughts. "May I come in?"

Barnabas pushed past Willie and reached out to take her hand. To lead her across the threshold, his eyes glowing and bright. Closing the door behind her, locking out the night. Snapping out orders.

"Willie, light the fire. Indeed, if there is one you actually tended to today, I hope it is in the Front Room. And fetch some sherry, Miss Winters is surely chilled by the night air."

Willie turned on his heel to do these things as quick as he could, and hang keeping up the pretence of being more tired than he was. A visit from Miss Winters, asking to come in, could only bode good.

"Wait, Willie," she said, her voice soft.

"One moment, Willie," said Barnabas. As if only he could control his servant. As if Willie hadn't already frozen where he stood, the hairs on his neck and arms pricking upward.

Another pause, her grey eyes looking first at Barnabas, and then at Willie. And then at the stones beneath her feet. She seemed to nod then and raised her head with that firm-lipped expression Willie knew only too well, as Barnabas must, also. The one that told anyone who knew her that Miss Winters meant what she was about to say.

"I have something to say, and to apologize for," she began.

"Oh, no, Miss Winters, surely not," said Barnabas, starting almost before she finished. "There is nothing you could possibly have done or intended that needs apologizing for."

The lights in her eyes snapped as she looked at him. "Barnabas, I don't mean to be rude, but I must to ask you listen to me. Without interruption."

Willie had never seen the vampire taken aback. Not seen his eyebrows shoot up with surprise, like that, nor felt the start of his body vibrate through the cool air of the hallway. "Certainly, Miss Winters," the vampire responded, his voice level. "Please."

There was a half-hitch of her chest. "I have come to apologize for presuming to dictate to you, or to Willie," she nodded at him as she said his name, "how either of you should conduct your private affairs." She paused to take a whole breath. "It is none of my business how you work things out between you, or how you get along. And it was rude of me to comment on, let alone to try and control. I hope, well, I hope you will accept my apologies. I was wrong."

Barnabas's gaze was only on her. Willie could see the twitch in his shoulders as the vampire struggled to stay calm and not start dancing for joy, should the vampire ever stoop to such conduct unbecoming a gentleman. He waited a moment, his dark eyes watching her, prideful.

"Miss Winters, may I speak?"

"Yes, Mr. Collins, thank you for listening."

He stepped forward. Took her hands in his and made her listen to him, bending close, tipping his chin down. "I assure you any apologies from you are completely unnecessary, though I am, as always, charmed by your instinct to look out for others. But may I ask, how, or rather, what, induced you to change your mind?"

She looked up into his eyes. Willie could see she was absorbed by the darkness there so fast, it was creepy. However much she might protest, even if only to herself, he knew she wanted what the vampire had to offer. Even if she didn't fully understand what that was.

"Please, Miss Winters, I really would like to know."

"Well, I was in town this afternoon, and ran into Willie."

The vampire's body jerked, though his gaze remained fixed on Victoria.

"He was looking for Wesley his friend, you know. To make sure he was alright."

Another start, and Willie knew it was costing a great deal for the vampire to not let go of the dainty hands in his grasp and lay into his servant about the latest lie, even if it was only a lie of omission.

"He said some things to me that convinced me I was in the wrong about what I had said the other night," she said

Willie almost jerked with surprise.

What the hell did I say to her that convinced her of that?

He had no idea. She must have already missed the courtship of Barnabas Collins before even speaking to Willie. That must be it.

"And I felt that to use my relationship with you like that, well, it was no better than blackmail." She finished this statement with a little sigh, as if now that she said it, she could relax.

So. That was it. She was disgusted with herself more than anything. Perhaps she felt she could better make the changes she felt were necessary by being around. Perhaps she felt if she had the vampire's ear, she could, in close quarters, convince him of the error of his ways and get him to treat Willie better. Perhaps she was one of those people who felt, in this case, she could save someone. If that were the case, Willie knew that he should, as Barnabas would put it, divest her of that notion as soon as he could.

Willie could see Barnabas champing at the bit, the large, pale vampire hands not letting go of her, squeezing just that much harder. "But what about what you said to me, does that no longer apply?"

It did not need to be explained what he meant, though there was a small, chilled silence before Victoria replied. "Yes, it still does, but blackmail is not the best way to affect a change in a relationship."

"My dear," said Barnabas, smiling. Eyes glittering as they had not since that horrible night. "My dear Miss Winters."

"I missed being with you," she said, ducking her head, her hair spilling forward. "I missed talking to you. And I felt that, well, I was hoping—" She stopped. Looked up at him with those clear, grey eyes, and said, "I'm sorry."

"Miss Winters," he said, taking both of her hands again. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you into town? The Collinsport Inn is touting a new menu, and I believe receiving high marks from the even the harshest of food critics."

"Oh, no," she said, touching the hem of her skirt beneath the layer of coat. "I couldn't possibly. I'm not dressed for it."

"You are," said Barnabas, "as elegant, as you always are, as a princess in silk."

There was a small pause, a heavy turn in the air as Barnabas seemed to lean forward and tell her something with his eyes. Willie felt it even from where he was standing, and did not know how Vicki could begin to resist it. She did not.

"Yes, please," she said, gleaming. Her smile extending to include Willie in its warmth. "I would like that very much."

Not quite like a virgin to the stone, but enough so that Willie shivered. Whatever it was that Barnabas had to give her, she wanted it.

The vampire gave her hands a gentle squeeze and let them go. Turned to take his great coat down from the coat rack. "Willie," he said, attending to his coat as he shifted his arms and shoulders into the garment. "We will be out for the evening, and you have the liberty of hours."

"Thank you, Barnabas," he said, nodding. Wiping his wet palms on his trouser legs.

The vampire took the time to fasten his own coat, then bent to snug Victoria's collar close as well. "The wind is chill," he said, his voice like velvet. The smile she returned him was like diamonds.

Barnabas opened the door for her and gestured that she should precede him. He stepped out on to the porch, only a pace behind her. At the last minute, before he closed the door, he paused. Looked at Willie, fully, for the first time since Miss Winter's arrival, his expression, for that one second, as plain as if he'd spoken: You will explain to me what has just transpired. And what role you played in it.

Upon his return, the vampire would surely want Willie's response.

***

Faith in the Atmosphere - Part 5
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