I started writing Dark Shadows fan fiction years ago. I started this one in 2004. I don't know why I stopped or where I was going with it. But this is part of the first chapter of the story, set mostly in 1841 Parallel Time with one character from Regular Real Time: Quentin Collins.
Quentin
felt disoriented and tried to get his bearings.
The young woman before him alternately smiled and then frowned. He wondered if she was mad. She was behaving so oddly. He needed her, though. He had to get to the room in the east
wing. They were in the west wing, but it
was different somehow. The room he'd just
exited held some kind of room with magic-but it wasn't the playroom.
"You
did lock the door," the young woman informed him, smiling again. Her smile was quickly followed by a
frown. "You've been naughty,
though, to come here. You know that Aunt
Julia and Mama won't approve."
"It
was an accident," he answered lamely.
"I didn't mean to."
"Quentin,
you always did get into mischief. Mama
grieved so when you went to prison-" The young woman's voice trailed off,
and she studied him closely. "How
did you get here?" she asked suddenly.
As
she studied him, Quentin figured out that there was a Quentin in this time and
this young woman was his sister-and that he was supposed to be in prison. "I, uh, well, I went through the
door," he answered evasively.
She
gave him a crafty look. "Did you
run away from prison, Quentin? I'll bet
you didn't like it. You never did like
to be shut in, did you?"
"No,"
he agreed. "Can you help me? I mean, can you help me get to the east wing
without anyone seeing us?"
She
clapped her hands. "Oh! We're playing a game! I love games!" Her expression changed. "Of course, I don't like them when
people are unkind to me. They are, you
know-frequently. Unkind. But you always protected me, Quentin, and I'm
ever so grateful!" She threw her
arms around him and gave him a big hug.
"I would do anything for you!"
"Thank
you," he answered, awkwardly returning the hug. "And of course, I'd protect you. You're-my sister."
To
his surprise, she stepped back a little and her eyes filled with tears,
spilling over her cheeks.
"Oh,
Quentin, you mean that, don't you?"
"I'm
sorry," he said, alarmed. "I
didn't mean to make you cry."
"You
are so kind, so gentle," she answered, sniffling now. She found a handkerchief and brought it to
her face. "You're not like the
other boys." She lowered her voice
to a whisper. "They don't accept me
as their real sister. Sometimes I think
they don't love me at all!"
Oh
Lord, Quentin thought, wondering what mess he'd inadvertently stumbled
into. He put his arms around her
awkwardly, wondering who `the boys were and why they wouldn't accept her as
their `real' sister. He wondered what
her name was, wishing he knew so that he could say something comforting.
"They're
fools," he said finally.
Her
eyes lit up with delight. "You're
right! They are fools!"
"Will
you help me?" he asked, urgently.
He had to get out of here as quickly as possible.
"Yes,
I will!" She said, determined. She
took his hand and led him down the hall, quickly ducking into a room. She felt along the wall and opened a
panel. Relieved, he realized she was
taking him into the inner pathway of secret halls within the house. If the house were similar to the Collinwood he
knew, he'd be able to find his way to the East wing. The young woman picked up a candle and lit it
with a long taper she pulled from her pocket.
"I'm
glad you remembered," he ventured.
"I really don't want anyone to see me-after running away, I
mean."
"They
think I'm mad. They all say, `Melanie is
addled since she went into the room'," the young woman said with another
crafty smile. "But I'm not
crazy-not all the time. And when I'm
not, I remember
everything." She studied him thoughtfully. "You seem different Quentin. Your manner of speaking-it is
different."
"It's
the prison that did that," Quentin explained, hoping she would buy
it. He'd been speaking twentieth century
vernacular for so long-it was going to be hard not to use slang. He'd have to make a conscious effort to
remember. Already the strange clothes
were itching and pulling at his skin.
"Of
course. What an awful experience for
you, dear Quentin," Melanie said softly.
"Melanie,"
he said softly, glad that he knew her name now.
"You've always been the kind and understanding one." He imagined that it was true, too. Her lip quivered, and he said quickly, “We
need to hurry."
She
regained her composure, nodding, and moved down the hallway. As they walked, Melanie whispered, "Why
do you need to go to the east wing?"
"There's
something there that I've forgotten," he answered.
"I
see. You were naughty again, weren't
you? No one goes to the east
wing-ever. Mama says it would be a waste
if we were to have the east wing opened."
"I
know," Quentin answered. "You
know how I like to explore, Melanie. I'm
very restless, you know." He hoped. She giggled in the semi-darkness and he was
relieved that either he was right or she was so mad it didn't matter what he
said. Now that he had his bearings,
Quentin began to take the lead. Melanie
handed the taper over to him and followed quietly as he found the hallway he
needed.
Before
long, he was at the parallel time room.
"You say no one ever comes here, Melanie?"
"No
one. Mama and Aunt Julia forbid it. They would be terribly cross with us if they
knew that we were here now," Melanie said.
"Don't you remember Papa switching you and Gabriel?"
"Yes,"
Quentin lied. "That's why I want
you to go back, Melanie, and not say a word about me being here." He held on to her shoulders and looked into
her eyes.
Melanie looked distraught. "Do you want me to leave you here all
alone?"
"I
won't mind," Quentin assured her.
"I won't be gone very long, either.
You must promise me something, Melanie."
Melanie's
look of disheartened disappointment changed to one of pleased cunning. "Oh, is it a secret? I won't tell, I promise!"
"Well,
a sort of a secret," Quentin agreed.
"I don't want you to tell anyone that I was here. But more important than that, I don't want
you to come into this room to look for me." He looked at her very intently. "Promise me."
Melanie
looked bewildered. "Don't come into
the room? But why?"
He
debated on what to tell her. She'd
already dropped hints about being addled and he didn't want to add to it or to
frighten her. Finally, he said,
"There's some magic around this room, too-like the other one."
Melanie's
eyes grew round with fear. "Is it
bad-like the curse?"
"There's
not a curse on it-it's just different.
Just don't come into the room, please, Melanie, promise me,"
Quentin urged. He would have liked to
have known what the curse was but just didn't have time. Melanie began to cry and he held her,
stroking her hair. "Don't cry,
it'll be all right." He cursed to
himself. He really wanted to get going.
"You'll
be safe, won't you Quentin?" Melanie asked, distressed. "I don't want anything bad to happen to
you!"
"I'll
be all right, I swear," Quentin told her.
He gave her the taper. "You
be my brave sister, all right? I'm only
going to get something, that's all."
"All
right," Melanie agreed, her lower lip still trembling as she took the
taper. She backed up a step.
Quentin
opened the doors to the room. It was
empty and bare, just as it usually was.
He went inside and looked around.
He realized that Melanie was following him and so he turned back to
close the doors on her. "Go back to
the main part of the house and don't say anything," he urged her again.
"There's
not anything in there," Melanie protested.
"I
know where it is," Quentin assured her, shutting the door firmly in her
face. He walked to the center of the now
darkened room and waited, shivering. It
was very cold in her, as if the room was filled with spirits. It was true, he reflected. All of Collinwood seemed to be a magnet for
spirits and magic of all types. As he
approached the fireplace, he began to hear a humming sound and realized that
the room was about to change. There was
a sound at the door. He turned back and
was horrified to see Melanie standing there.
"No!" he cried out-and then she was gone.
Quentin
was still in an empty, dark room and the doors had somehow shut
themselves. He must have flipped over as
Melanie opened the doors. He wondered if
she'd seen it happen and hoped not. He
hoped she wouldn't try to follow him here.
Now he had to find his great-uncle's library. Luckily, it hadn't been that long ago that he
helped Elliot and Roger break through the walls to find it. He could still remember where it was.
Damn,
I wish I'd brought that flashlight with me, he thought as he tried to feel his
way out into the hall way. He wasn't
sure he'd find any tapers outside. The
1840 family in his own time hadn't used this wing either. There was no furniture anywhere. He wondered when any of the family tried to
live in the wing because he remembered boxes and old chairs when he'd been
stumbling around in here with Barnabas and Julia.
"Eh,
I brought you a gift, pretty one," Cara Linda’s voice came softly.
"You're
here, thank God!" Quentin exclaimed.
He looked around, trying to see her.
There was a small glowing light and in the center was a pack of
matches. "You're a genius!"
"Someone
has to do the thinking, eh?" Cara Linda chuckled. Quentin took the matches out of the air and
lit one. He found a taper in a sconce
on the wall. He took the candle and lit
the wick before the match burned down to his fingers. With a sigh of relief, he began to make his
way back to the center of the house, hoping that no one was about.
Great-uncle
Quentin's library was in the west wing-back where the staircase had been. He wondered if the room had been sealed over
yet. "Cara Linda, when in time are
we? Is the library there?"
"Your
great-uncle has gone on his journey to sea with Tad," Cara Linda
answered. "We are back before Judah
Zachary came here."
Thank
God for small favors, Quentin thought.
He wouldn't have to break through any walls. He managed to get through the main part of
the house and into the west wing. He had
no idea how long he'd been wandering around between time zones but as they
passed a window, he looked out and saw that it was dark. Hopefully the family was asleep.
He
found his great-uncle's library and went inside, looking around in the desk
drawers for the I ‘Ching wands. That's
where they'd be, he reasoned. He'd have
to return through the parallel time room.
If his uncle was gone on his journey, then the staircase wasn't finished
yet. He was finding the same volumes of
texts that were retrieved from Collinwood in the future. It occurred to him
that if he could take these books now and place them strategically, then maybe
that whole Judah Zachary disaster could be circumvented from the
beginning.
"Stop
thinking foolish thoughts," Cara Linda snapped. "It's enough that we do not know what kind
of changes you make just by taking the I ‘Ching wands!"
Wouldn't
it be better to try and stop all this? He wondered.
"And
what if you undo your own birth-what then?"
Maybe
that would be better.
"Maybe
it's better you listen to me and leave the books alone, foolish one!"
Reluctantly,
Quentin set the books aside. Now he was
aggravated by Cara Linda’s presence. He
pulled open another drawer and pulled out the I ‘Ching wands. Here they are, he thought. As he turned them over gently in his hands he
wondered if these were the same wands he found when he was a boy. He hadn't known what they were for until
Grandmama taught him to use them.
Perhaps she had taken them from his great-uncle.
"It's
time to go back. It is not a good idea
to linger," Cara Linda warned.
All
right, all right! He carefully rewrapped
the wands in their linen cloth and made his way back through the house to the
east wing, thinking it was a good thing he was so familiar with the house. Back in the `Alice-in-fucking-Wonderland'
room, he settled down to wait. Cara
Linda? Do you know where everyone is?
"I
can guide you. Some of the times and
places-I am not familiar with them. They
are in the future. I can guide you
there."
The
future? How far into the future?
"I
don't know. I cannot see the dates. I only know they are forward in time."
Who
is forward in time? Do you know that
much?
"Your
cousin Elizabeth is one forward in time.
She is cold and alone-she is in New York City. I do not know how she made her way there, but
she is frightened. People think she is
mad, but she is not."
Quentin
groaned. Maybe he should try to rescue
her first.
"No,
you must go for Sabrina first. She is in
the most danger," Cara Linda objected.
"She believes she is with her young man, Chris, but she is
not. Already she had fallen under his
spell. History will change if you do not
go for her first."
She
thinks she's with her young man?
Quentin's brow furrowed. Is she
with Tom?
"Is
that his name? He looks like his brother
but he is like Barnabas."
Oh
my God! Quentin glanced around, wishing
for the room to change now. He got tired of standing and sat down on the floor,
arms wrapped around himself to try and stay warm. He felt himself beginning to doze as he
waited for the room to change back.
