What the Snow Brings

Old House. As the first true winter storm of the season continues to cover Collinsport in a blanket of snow, Esther Friedman finds herself strangely alone. Nikki remains in Rhode Island, and Rhyaad and Meili have left her for their own stratagems. But even as she enjoys the calm of the storm, she will soon receive visitors – one of whom the significance of which will only become known long after this initial visit

Whether one concedes to the theory of climatic change or not – one thing for certain, for whatever the reason, no one could argue that this year’s winter had been far too mild. It had not brought with it the usual accumulation of the snowfalls of the past. And so Esther Friedman found herself oddly not in her usual parlor chair but in one nearer the window. There she could curl up and watch the Currier and Ives scene beyond the window: the snow falling out along the barely visible winding road, a white haze among the barren trees of the woods out just beyond the brown lawns of the Old House. Alone now, she relished the silence. Rhyaad and Meili were out somewhere, no doubt looking for someone, or something, to kill. With Nik having gone to Providence, she had been left to intercede between their constant bickering. One wanting to kill something – anything, the other wanting to hunt down and kill something some people called an Outer God.

Damn crazy gypsy.

And so she sat in the comfort of the old mansion watching the falling snow. Who would have thought in Maine, one would actually miss snow? The fat flakes caught in a swirl of wind whipped about and Esther found herself reminiscing of better days on a farm long since fallen to disrepair.

Along the rising ground of the knoll, Samantha Evans’s scuffed and worn L. L. Bean hunting boots found solid purchase in the good inch-and-a-half drift of snow, blown up against a gathering of fallen branches and decomposing leaves. The snowfall was beginning now to fall faster, the flakes thicker, heavier. She had gone now much further than she had intended – or had she? She could see now the hazy upper stories of the Old House, the parapets and thick moldings through the bare branch overhang of the trees. She had told herself when she had started she just wanted to get some air, wanted to get away from Collinwood, the huge mansion filled with antiques, the seemingly endless number of libraries, books no one ever seemed to read, the unused rooms, and the row up row of stern-faced Collins’ staring out from their portraits hung along the corridors in gilded frames.

For Samantha Evans, the mansion had yet to feel like a home – she wasn’t sure it ever would. And so, she had gone for a small walk, only now here was the incline leading up to The Old House—to Nikki.

She could not deny upon awaking each morning she found herself reaching out for her – her hand finding a pillow and an empty place beside her.

The recent knowledge that they were cousins – did nothing to stop her heart from aching – stop her from missing her Nicole.

And so, she had grabbed her coat and said to hell with it—it had been so long since she had seen her – and as painful as it would be, she started up the incline, the snow slapping at her face, sticking to her eyelashes as if to turn back. Resolute she pushed ahead, along the narrow footpath leading to the drive.

Esther peers now into the snowscape as she watches a figure moving up out of the woods, up from the footpath to the drive – someone was foolishly out walking in this weather? She stood up and crossed her arms – trying to make out – yes, it . . . it was Sam Evans. What in the h**l? What was she doing out in this weather?

Sam Evans walks up the door – and for a brief True Romance, Young Lesbians in Love graphic novel moment, as if in one of those panels where the young woman stands and hesitates, caught in a moments indecision, biting her knuckle, thinking she should turn back, is she about the make a fool of herself once again, for love —and then knocks.

Esther reaches over and turns on a lamp, and then makes her way through the foyer to the front door.

“Hey Sam, What are ya doin out on a night like this?”

“Oh, Esther, well, I started out for a walk and then it started snowing much harder. Is Nikki home?” Samantha asks stamping off the snow off her boots and slapping her gloved hands at the hem of her jeans.

Esther shakes her head, seeing that her pants legs are going to be very wet, “No. She’s down south in Rhode Island. But get in. Come on, you’ll freeze yaself standing out there.”

Sam smiles a welcome thank you as she is about to enter, when she hears something above and looks up to see two bats take flight, flittering away from the parapets. Sam shivers – she hates bats.

“Oh thanks, and yes, it’s freezing out here.”

She enters the warmth of the old mansion.

“Here. Let me take ya coat” Esther offers, closing the door and reaching up to help remove the snow dampen coat from Sam’s shoulders.

“Wow it’s really coming down now— it’s no doubt going to be more than they predicted.”

“It’s beginning to look that way.” Esther replies as she hangs up the coat in the coat closet.

Esther notices how Sam moves about the foyer, looking round the house, and she recognizes that look in Sam’s – a look she had no doubt had on her own face only moments ago as she sat reminiscing. She’s remembering her time here with Nikki. Esther raises an eyebrow as she cannot help but observe the quick glance Sam gives to the upper floor toward Nik’s bedroom. And Esther can’t help but feel a little sadden for Sam – it was more than obvious that Sam had not lost any feeling for Nikki. And the whole thing about them didn’t make any sense to her – knowing how they felt – it wasn’t like Nikki was going to get Sam pregnant. So what was the big deal—they were cousins, yeah, sure – but they were lesbians, right? The whole thing about cousins not getting together, incest and all that, it had more to do with miscreant reproduction – the kind of stuff that happens down in the Appalachian’s.

“Ya know, the weather man says it’s only gonna get colder.” Esther informs Sam as she makes her way toward the kitchen with Sam following her,” Why don’t ya stay the night eh?”

“So, Rhode Island, huh?” Sam asks as if not hearing her – preoccupied.

“Yeah. Rhode Island. Chasin’ after somethin’ or anouther.”

Sam leans back against the kitchen counter, “You are such a good friend for her Esther.”

Esther looks at her quizzically.

“You so protect her secrets.”

Esther shrugs, “Yeah, well – she has a few.”

“I worry about her Esther, she is like . . . well, she reminds me of Nancy Drew, you know, always off on some half-baked adventure half the time without thinking.”

“Well, I’ve never read any of those detective books.” Esther says, “Coffee . . . hot chocolate?”

“You got a beer?”

Esther gives her a look, “We – got beer.”

“I would love one.”

Esther opens the refrigerator, pushing aside a two quart mason jars of deer blood and removes two Heinekens.

“Weatherman says it’ll be ’round 5 degrees by morning. Not weather for a stroll home. Say, you are stayin’ at the other Collin’s place right? Collinwood?”

‘You know, it it’s alright, I might take you up on that invitation to stay the night,” Sam says taking the green beer bottle Esther offers.

“Nik’s bed is all waitin’ for you.” Esther says and suddenly feels very awkward in having said it.

Sam smiles and opens her beer “Yes. I guess you’ve heard by now the sordid truth about my parents—and that, well, I’m a Collins.”

“Heard somthin’ ’bout that.”

“So, David—he asked me to move into Collinwood, and I did.” Sam Evans sighs heavily, “But Esther, it’s just not home, you know what I mean?”

“I think I do.”

“I mean, You know, we all sort of looked at them, as well, “The Collins” but now . . .’ She pulls back a counter stool and has a seat. “I’m one of them.”

“Bah. Collins is just anouther family name. Your family din’ make you who you are. You did.” Esther takes a stool beside her.

“So true Esther, so true. You know, I miss talking to you at the Whale.” Sam tells her.

“Hey, just like old times,” Esther holds up her beer and they clink the bottles together, “Only now, I’m the bartender.”

Esther takes a long drink, “Ahh. . . Ya gotta hand it to the Dutch.”

“To the Dutch” Sam holds out her bottle to toast again.

“To the Dutch. L’Chaim” Esther says.

Bottles clink.

“So how have you been Esther, still staying here at the Old House?”

“Yeah. It’s warmer than th’ ol’ shack-in-th’-woods. But sometimes I miss my privacy, ya know?”

“Yeah – these houses here, this place, Collinwood, just too damned big. It’s like you’re in some hotel.” Sam takes a drink of her beer.

“I would say Fortress, but yeah.” Esther takes a drink also.

“But, you have the place to yourself when she’s – sleeping.”

“True. . . true. . . “ Esther nods looking about the large mansion, “I’ve been thinkin.”

‘Yeah,” Sam says with her Maine accented ‘Yeah’

“I’ve been explorin’ this building and thinkin’ with around 20 people . . . with rifles ‘n shotguns, yough could board this place up and defend it fer weeks. Months even. Like th’ Alamo. Ya got balconies on top, thick stone walls. Even some walls outside that seem to have no purpose.

Sam laughs, “Have you ever looked at the d**n walls on this place? Like stone a foot thick. Who builds houses like this?”

“I dunno. . . “ Esther says with a smile and takes another drink.

“But you are right, it’s like an Alamo, that is for sure.” Sam agrees and then looks over at Esther, “Only, I hope it’s never, you know, some place where you have to take a last stand.”

Esther nods and thinks about the necromancers and the poem, and Devil’s Reef and Innsmouth, Elijah Snow and the snipers—why did she even think – Alamo? “So, how’s Collinwood? Same Castle-like construction?”

“Yes – it’s like rooms within rooms. You will have to come see, they gave me a whole wing.”

Esther looks at her.

Sam nods, “Yes, a whole d**ned wing. The West Wing. Now that’s gotta be insane.”

Esther smiles, “Wounldn’t surprise me if they had a whole Island to themselves—and then never go there.”

“Well – according to David it was Quentin’s . . . my father’s, he had it like a suite or an apartment. They have so much f**king money, they have suites in their houses.” Sam takes a drink.

“Well you said it Sam, they are the Collins’”

“So, you got a moment or two, to maybe talk, if you don’t mind, seeing as how Nikki’s not here.” Sam asks looking at her beer bottle pensively, “It’s just I need someone to talk to about all of this—all this stuff I have found out about my father.”

“Oh sure. I suppose I owe ya after all th’ times I’ve spewed to ya at th’ bar.” Esther says and turns to look at her, “So shoot.”

“Well,” She begins as she spins the beer bottle on the counter slowly clockwise, “To be honest, I had thought about talking to Nik about this – but you know, seeing as how she isn’t here, the more I think about it, I am more than certain she isn’t the one I should be talking to . . .’

“Oh,” Esther frowns.

“Because the more I think about it, the more I am certain it would only make her think about her dad.”

“Well Sam,” Esther nods thoughtfully, “You know how Nik is about her dad.”

“Yeah – I know.” Sam says sadly.

“So, okay, Sam, what is it?” Esther asks bluntly as Sam is going to take forever to get to whatever it is that is bothering her.

“Well—seeing as how you pretty much know about all the odd, weird s**t about the family, you’re sort of family, really, in a way, I know Nik thinks of you that way—so . . .. I knew that Quentin was wild. That he loved drinking, and women, and gambling, and just about anything he could get himself into. But Esther – having gotten all these old trunks and boxes of his filled with his books and journals, diaries – it’s more than obvious that he was very much into the occult—“

“Interesting.” Esther says and takes a drink – so this s**t really does run in the family.

“I mean it is so much like Nik’s dad, there are all of these old books about magic . . .. And some really weird s**t about some kind of f**ked up creatures – things people call gods – that are out in space somewhere looking to get back to earth through these portals and rifts and gates and stuff – I am talking some really weird s**t here Esther.”

“Portals . . . “ Esther looks at her very seriously; “Don’t go through portals if ya can help it Sam. They really mess up ya stomach. And ya head.”

Sam laughs, “Yeah, right, I could so imagine.” Then she looks at Esther, “Seriously – portals?”

Esther just takes another drink of her beer.

“So—” Sam continues, “I found these notes of his – he really knew things like spells and wards and charms.”

“Magic . . . Sorcery?“ Esther asks, “Do you understand any of it?”

Sam looks at her oddly, “Why would you –“

Esther holds out her hands, “Just asking—seeing as how it runs in the family. I know Nik knows way more than she let’s any of us know – “

“Yeah there’s something dark she doesn’t talk about,” Sam takes a drink, “But as for me, no, not really, although I have been reading some of the books and his notes.”

There is a moment of awkward silence.

“Oh, Esther you have to come see this painting, this god awful painting, I have no Idea where the the h**l, or why he got it—oh, wait, I think you might have seen it at the loft one night.”

Esther nods, remembering the vile thing, “Yes. . . I already saw it . . . “

“Oh, it’s just awful – that and that huge ugly old bookcase!” Sam sighs, “I actually started to just junk them, but there is something so truly gross about them they are fascinating in a really strange way, you know?”

“I suppose some folks think that Mounted animal heads are gross, and others don’t mind them at all.” Esther replies.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Sam says, looking at her beer bottle, about to discuss the something that she has wanted to discuss but has been reluctant to do so and so she takes a final swig of the bottle and places it on the counter, “I was reading one of his journals last night, and—Esther, Quentin, my father, was—he was a werewolf.”

Esther sits for a moment, this place is truly f**ked up, she thinks and then looks over at her, “A werewolf sorcerer?”

Sam looks at Esther, “What if—Esther what if . . . “

“You’re a werewolf too?”

Sam nods.

“That’s assumin’ it’s genetic – but you don’t know that. So—have you ever gone out and howled at the moon? Felt the need to do so? Have you ever woke up naked in the woods . . . “

Sam looks at her.

“I mean for no apparent reason.” Esther frowns.

“No.”

“Have ya grown fur at th’ full moon and started eatin’ people?”

“Esther!”

“See, I think you’re all right—but, we do need to talk to Nik about this.” Esther turns to look at her, “So, like how did this happen to him?”

“It seems he fell for some Romanian girl and then he jilted her and her family cursed him for it – well, he got her pregnant and left her is what he did.”

“Gypsies—that’ll do it!”

“And so, he got into the occult in order to find a cure. And from what I read he did find a cure – or he was cured, seems some crazy Romanian Count came to Collinwood and brought this wacked out painter . . . Charles Delware Tate – who it seems could paint magical paintings, and he did one of Quentin and the paining took on the curse.”

“Dorian Gray,” Esther says taking the last drink of her beer.

“No a Count Petofi.” Sam replies.

“Ah. That guy. Yeah. . . We’ve heard ’bout him,” Esther admits, “Not a good guy ‘parently.”

Sam sits back, “Of course there was a price for the cure, seems Quentin’s occult studies lead him to discover things called temporal contrarieties. And so, this Count had him build him one, something he called the “Stairway into Time’”

“Nik mentioned som’thin’ like that. ‘parently, ya go up it ta go forewards, and down it to go backwards?”

“Right! Exactly, only it seems Nikki’s dad destroyed it. He tried to trap this Count in time – and according to my father’s notes on it, this Count swore revenge for it on Nikki’s father Barnabas.”

“Well Sam, to be honest with ya, it all sounds like a load of hooy ta me, time travel. Besides, if ya went back in time, wouldn’t ya go back before the stairs were built? Then you would be stuck.’

“I have no idea how this was supposed to work, but according to Quentin, it did.”

Esther sighs, “Well to let you know apparently th’ count is back and tryin’ ta do some crazy s*** with elder beings and things that . . . I sure as hell can’t comprehend em. That’s part of why Nik’s in Rhode Island.”

“God Esther, Collinsport is so screwed up.”

“Welcome to the Collins Family,” And then she snaps her fingers as if part of the Addams Family theme song.

“I mean good lord, who would have ever thought Maine would have vampires and werewolves and crazy Count’s that are like wizards and s**t?” Sam says almost incredulous.

Esther shrugs. “I dunno. You’re part of thet Ghost Society thing of David Collins’ so I figure you got to know way more than me, but someplaces jus have everything gravitate to them. Like New York. There are already people there, so more people come, and more, and soon, Ya got more people livin in one city then the rest of the state of Maine.”

They sit silently for a moment. Esther glances out the window and starts to watch as the snow begins to taper off into smaller, lighter flakes than the pervious thick, fat ones.

“Snow looks good doesn’t it? I just love snow.” Sam says.”

“Eh. Snow makes it easier to track, but I usually stay inside when it snows.” Esther replies. “Want another beer?”

“Sure.” Sam answers, “I like walking in it but I didn’t think it would get as heavy as it did.”

“It’s just a few inches,” Esther says opening the refrigerator, “The main problem is the cold.”

“So, Esther – if you had a staircase to time, would you go – back or forward in it, time, I mean?”

“I would. . . “

“You would? What time would you go back to?”

Esther shakes her head, removing two more Heinekens, “I would probably destroy th’ thing. Can’t have people goin back and changin’ the past.”

Outside now the distant sound of car tires spinning, gaining some traction and then spinning again can be heard.

“Now—who the h**l is that spinning out on the drive?” Sam stands up, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

Esther frowns, “I don’t know.” She sits Sam’s beer on the counter and opens her own as she moves back into the foyer to look out the front windows.

The sound of the car approaching grows louder, and then it stops. A car door is heard to open and slam shut.

-Knock-
-Knock-

Esther looks at Sam and shrugs and walks over to the front door and opens it. A cold blast of winter air enters. “Yeah? What can I do fer ya?”

Shivering at the door is a tall, blonde woman with bright blue eyes. She is not wearing a coat, “Oh, excuse me, can I come in, I seem to be lost and stuck on a night like this.”

“ . . . Sure.” Esther says and steps aside to let her in, “Ya wanna use the phone?”

“Oh thank you so much.” The woman hurries inside.

Esther leads her to the telephone on the table by the curved staircase – she thinks of Nik, who runs around without a coat in freezing weather.

“Oh, what a truly charming home.” The woman says as she walks over to the phone, rubbing her hands together as if to warm them. “How long ago was the fire?”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I had heard there was a fire and this magnificent old home had to be restored.”

“Yes, about five or six years ago about the time Bramwell’s mother left and divorced David.” Sam says, standing with her hands till stuffed in her back pockets.

Esther gives Sam a look, “Yeah, interesting story – there’s the phone.”

“I really should have grabbed my coat, but I was so happy to see the lights of the house.” She continues to follow Esther, her brilliant blue eyes examining the mansion as she does so, “My name is Victoria Wren, I was looking for Collinwood, but I think I made a wrong turn and ended up here.”

“Yes, ma’am, it happens a lot actually, if you are new to the grounds . . . If you take the left road it leads here to the Old House. I am Samantha Ev—Samantha Collins.”

“Yes. Common mistake. Ya come up this road and ya take a right by where th Dennys used ta be, instead of a left onto the old access road. But don’t worry, it’s not far.”

“You are a Collins?” Victoria Wren says with a bright smile, her eyes filled with delight, “So you . . . own this lovely house?”

“Yes, I am a Collins – but no. No, this isn’t my house – I am staying at Collinwood. This belongs to my . . . cousin, Nikki. Nicole Collins.”

“Nicole Collins? Is she here?” Victoria Wren looks about.

“No, she’s way on business.” Esther tells her, “The phone.”

“Oh yes,” And Victoria Wren moves over toward the table. “I am in luck then as we should be seeing more of each other if you are staying at Collinwood Miss Collins. As I said I am Victoria Wren, and I’m an author and David Collins has been so wonderful as to let me come up and go through some of the old family records for a book I’m doing.”

“Oh, really, an author?”

Esther, looking out the window suspects that this woman might be here longer than previously thought, ”Yes. Now, I’m sure they have someone at the AAA awake at this hour for just an occasion.

“Yes, I am researching Witch Cults in New England and the vampire scare in the late 1800’s.”

“Vampire scare?” Sam says and cuts a glance to Esther.

“Oh yes, very few people today are aware of just how fevered the belief in vampires there was in the late 1800’s right here in New England,” Victoria Wren says, “There was of course the most famous case of Mercy Brown. But there was a large belief in vampires all along the Eastern Seaboard. Bodies were dug up, hearts removed and burned. And one of the most celebrated of those was as I said was poor, young Mercy Brown in Rhode Island.”

Esther shrugs, “Fascinating. Now, I am sure that if you call the repairmen, they can have someone rushed out here in no time at all, and you can make it to Collinwood where they must be expectin’ ya.”

“My research indicates that since the 1700s here in Collinsport there have been rumors of vampires and vampire attacks. In fact, I understand, not too long ago there were two young women so attacked.”

Esther moves the phone on the table, calling attention to it.

“Oh yes, thank you.” And Victoria Wren opens her messenger bag to take out her credit card holder and begins looking for her AAA card.

“Oh, that is not going to do you any good,” Sam says and gets up and heads over to the phone, “Let me call Arliss Mills, he runs the main gas station and he is the best mechanic in Collinsport.”

Sam quickly calls Arliss and tells him to bring the town truck out to the Old House.

When Sam hangs up the phone, Victoria Wren standing near the front door, looking at the portrait of Barnabas Collins says, “Oh, thank you Miss Collins. Wonderful Portrait. And so, you say that Nicole Collins owns this house?”

“Yes, she’s a cousin – from England.”

Victoria smiles, “Oh, she’s a member of the English branch of the family?”

Sam crosses her arms, “Yes.”

“I so look forward to meeting her.” Victoria steps away from the painting and back into the parlor, rubbing the palms of her hands together, “But I thought this was the original Collins family estate, and so, I wouldn’t have thought it would be owned by the English branch.”

Esther is not at all certain that this woman accidently took that left turn, “Well, from what I understand from Nik, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, left this house and several pieces of the estate to Nikki’s father.”

“Now that would explain it.” Victoria Wren said, her eyes examining the old mansion, “Providence, you said she was in Providence – what a small world , I was just there a few days ago.”

“So David is letting you look into the family records?” Sam asks.

“Yes.”

“So—you believe in vampires Miss Wren?”

The blonde woman smiles, “Just doing research. You know, there are those in Providence who still believe that there are some of them still around since the 1800’s. I interviewed a few of them.”

Esther scoffs, “Bunch of baloney if ya ask me. Jus’ like people that’ believe in Aliens and that Elvis is still alive.”

For another fifteen or twenty minutes of awkward small talk continues before the sound of a large diesel truck can be heard coming up the drive.

Sam steps to the window; “There’s Arliss now.”

Victoria Wren nods, “I guess I should go out there – thank you so much for letting me wait here for him to arrive.”

“Oh, sure, no problem, “Esther tells her.

“I am so sorry I missed Miss Collins.”

“I’ll tell her all about you.”

Victoria heads back out into the cold, she hurries over to her car, opens the door and grabs her coat and slips it on as she talks to Arliss Mills, who hooks up her car and soon whirls around the drive and takes the car and Victoria Wren off toward Collinwood.

“Could have caught a ride, Sam.”

“Yeah, I could have couldn’t I?” They both standing at the window watching the tow truck and the car disappear into the snow—both aware that Sam wants to sleep in Nikki’s bed.

“Wonder what the h**l David was thinking?” Sam asks.

“Not a clue,” Esther replies.

“If things were not crazy enough, I now have to stay n Collinwood with her looking into old family records.”

Esther looks over at her, “What family records exactly? Tax Records? She’s not an accountant in disguise is she?”

Sam steps away from the window, “I have no idea, but she is researching vampires and we know where that could lead. I just need to keep an eye on her. I guess it is a good thing I moved into Collinwood after all.”

“I just don’t get what any records people would keep about a family.”

“Oh, there are all kinds of diaries and journals in David’s library. But he would be crazy to let her have access to those – I guess he is just doing so to make it look like he has nothing to hide when we know that as a family we have mountains of stuff to hide.”

Esther throws up her hands, “I dunno – just wish Nikki was back.”

Sam says in a low voice, almost a whisper, “I do too.”

Cue Music End of Episode