Collinsport, 1967

​

The light of the full moon illuminated Angelique’s beautiful face. Her powder blue mini dress was sharply contrasting to her morbid surroundings. She stopped at the edge of the metal gate and looked back at the isolated mausoleum, framed by overgrown trees and clinging ivy. Her yearly task completed, she blinked and turned to go, pulling her coat together and fumbling with the buttons. Her hands were numb, so she stuffed them deep within her pockets. She did not realize how long she had stood next to the coffin this year, gently stroking its lid, caressing the unseen figure of Barnabas Collins.

 

Angelique usually had someone to travel with her on these excursions to make sure Barnabas was secure in his prison, but this year she had come alone. All her former lovers and acquaintances had faded away, which was of no matter, as there was only one man who would ever consume her heart: Barnabas Collins. It had only been 117 years since the curse, and each time she came to this place, it became harder and harder to just leave and return to her life. Her existence was shaded with sadness now. As wonderful as it was to never grow old or die, all of the links to her past were gone; all the people she knew long dead. Maybe that was another reason why she clung so tightly to Barnabas; he was her only link with the past.

 

Angelique shivered from the cold and started on the path into town. She walked to clear her head of these thoughts. A frigid wind whipped around her, bringing to mind the soothing night breezes of Martinique. During the day, the heat was stifling on the Caribbean island, but at night the winds were rejuvenating. Many summer sunsets were spent on the edge of the beach looking out over the sea, the wind moving over her body. Angelique smiled at the memory as an inner warmth began to soothe the coldness she felt.

​

Her thoughts shifted to memories of Barnabas in Martinique. She would never forget how handsome he was that first day she saw him. Angelique closed her eyes and focused on the image of Barnabas Collins. She had always been amazed by a certain feature of his face: his piercing eyes. He had such a caring, warm look; his eyes could tell you his soul. A darker thought intruded upon her pleasant memories. The look of hate and loathing in his eyes when he glared at her that last day in the mausoleum. She shuddered and pushed the memory away.

​

To Angelique’s surprise, she had reached the town of Collinsport quicker than she had anticipated. She decided a warm brandy would take the chill out of her system, and headed towards the Blue Whale. The place was lively that night; couples were dancing to the juke box’s rock and roll. She huddled against a wall and finally settled into a small table near the back of the tavern.

​

After the waitress brought her a drink, Angelique surveyed her surroundings. She remembered when this place used to be the Eagle, an inn where ale was served and men fought over everything. Even in the crowd of people, Angelique was alone…and lonely. She missed him. After all these years, Barnabas was constantly in her thoughts.

​

Maybe if he knew her now—maybe if he was free from his prison, he could love her once more. He had loved her in Martinique; at least that’s what he had told her so long ago. But, he had also loved Josette. Would he ever forget her? Could he ever forget what happened? Angelique frowned at the grim reality. Still, it had been more than a century... Angelique shook her head. This was insane, she reasoned. She knew if Barnabas ever got released from his prison, his animalistic tendencies would surely prevail after 117 years of almost unbearable torture. Barnabas would not be the man she had known; he would be cruel and bitter.

​

She concluded the alcohol must be influencing her reasoning. She was about to retrieve her pocketbook and be on her way when a shadow crossed her face. She glanced up at the intruder. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but did possess a certain attractiveness. His stance told her everything she needed to know. He was a ruffian, arrogant and streetwise. And yet, there was something in his eyes, a flicker of insecurity, perhaps a mind easily manipulated.

​

“You looked kind of lonely sitting here, so I thought you’d like some company,” the stranger said, fully expecting Angelique to accept his generous offer.

​

She fixed her brilliant eyes on him, “I was just about to leave, so you can sit there if you want,” she replied slyly and rose from her chair. The man stepped in front of her exit path.

​

“Come on, stay and have one drink with me; I’ll make it worth your time,” he flashed a smooth grin at her. Angelique looked directly at him and again saw a flicker of something in his eyes that intrigued her. He was usable, she concluded.

“All right,” she finally agreed, “one drink.”

​

They sat across from one another as he summoned the waitress. The stranger flashed another grin at Angelique.

“So, are you new in town? I never seen you in this dump before.”

​

Angelique shifted in her seat. “Actually, I’m only here for the day, some business I had to take care of. I’m leaving tonight. Have you been here long, Mr…?” She trailed off.

​

“Willie,” he supplied, “Willie Loomis. And what’s your name?”

​

Angelique faked a flattered smile. “Angelique Bouchard.”

​

Willie grinned and continued, “Nah, I ain’t been here long. I got a pal here in town and we’re doing some business too. I’m staying with him. He’s settin’ up a deal that could put us both in the money.”

​

Greed glimmered in Willie’s eyes, something Angelique did not fail to notice. She fixed her hypnotic blue-green eyes upon his.

​

“So, where exactly are you staying, Willie?” The young man swallowed, the urge to confide in her too powerful to resist.

“Over at Collinwood, with the Collins family; they’re the people who own this town.”

​

Angelique sat back and smiled, everything suddenly falling into place. It was possible! All of it, with this one, simple man sitting in front of her. He would do what she desperately wanted done. A grin played across Angelique’s lips.

​

“You got a real pretty smile.” Willie leaned over and touched Angelique’s hand as the woman stared directly at him.

​

“It’s rather stuffy in here, Willie. Why don’t we go back to my room at the Collinsport Inn where we can talk?”

​

Angelique lowered her eyes demurely and allowed a hint of blush to enter her cheeks. Willie’s grin broadened as he left some money on the table and helped Angelique on with her coat. They walked to the inn in relative silence. How she had longed to see Barnabas again, to see his face. She would return and re-enter his life.

​

The clerk was not at the front desk, which was fortunate. Willie followed Angelique up to her room, anticipating the night of pleasure ahead. She was a fine woman indeed. Usually the ritzy types didn’t go for him, but Willie was confident his charm had worked and his devilish grin won her over. He smiled triumphantly as they entered Angelique’s room. She flicked on the lights and tossed her purse on the bureau.

​

“Please, Willie, come in and take off your jacket. I know I have a bottle of something here.” Willie removed his brown suede jacket and dropped it on a chair next to the bed. Angelique opened a small cabinet in the corner of the room and removed a glass bottle. “This is all I have, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

​

Willie nodded in agreement as Angelique sat on the bed.

​

“Willie, come over here and join me.” She motioned her hand to the spot next to her on the bed. Willie sat down and accepted one of the drinks she had poured. After putting down the bottle on the night stand, she turned to Willie.

​

“Tell me more about this place you’re visiting, what was the name of it again?”

​

“Collinwood,” Willie filled in. He wished she’d cut out the talking, but Willie wanted this to be perfect, so he decided to be patient. “Well, it’s a really huge, musty place on top of the cliffs. Them Collinses are loaded; they got everything. You should see some of those jewels in the paintings.” A gleam entered Willie’s eyes. “There’s a painting in the hall of some guy from a couple of centuries ago. He’s got this ring on his finger and holdin’ this cane with a silver top, and he got medals all over him. They would really be nice to get a hold of.”

​

Angelique had learned all she needed to know. The portrait of which he spoke was of Barnabas, and Willie’s greed was just what it would take. Angelique gently took the glass from Willie’s hand and placed it near the bottle. She moved closer to him and began to stroke his face seductively, then cupped his face in her hands.

​

“Willie, I want you to look in my eyes.”

​

She lifted his chin so his eyes were parallel to hers. Willie stared at her and began to feel lightheaded. It was almost as if her gaze was piercing the innermost corner of his soul. He tried to pull away but couldn’t.

​

“Willie,” she demanded, her tone becoming harsh. “You will look into my eyes and do only as I tell you.” He was totally under her control now.

​

“Willie, the jewels you seek are buried with the man whose portrait you admire. You will release him, Willie. Find the mausoleum. You will never remember me, but you will not forget my instructions. And when I kiss you, you will sleep and dream. A dream of wealth, a dream of shining jewels, a dream that will become your nightmare.” Angelique gently kissed Willie’s lips. He immediately closed his eyes and slumped over.

​

Angelique arose and looked at her pawn. “Rest well, Mr. Loomis. It will probably be the last time you will.”

 

Angelique moved across the room and retrieved her coat and purse. She opened the door and looked back on her unknowing agent. Her laughter filled the inn.