The Old House at Collinwood. As the threat from Scarlet Creek has concluded, Nicole Collins’ small band of friends continue to reside at the original ancestral mansion were they had sought the safety of their close proximity. As each had been effected by the threat, Esther with her concern for her friend; Nicole recovering from multiple stab wounds and possible possession; Rhyaad the apparent madness which had infected his close friend Medri Harker, they have been dissuaded from continuing the Vera Endecott case. Tonight, they will discover the consequences of their delay.

The ancient stone drive was cracked, uneven. It had been set sometime back in the 1700’s, Esther wasn’t sure precisely when. Countless shoes and boots and horses hooves had passed over it. Now it was Nikki’s Ferrari and Rhy’s big black convertible tires, and her boots. As she approached the Old House, she was ever reminded of how long the Collins history had been a part of this land.

Had it always been cursed?

The lights were on inside and the Black Ferrari was sitting there in the drive, which meant Nikki was most likely home – unless she had gone out for a walk, in which case, perhaps Sam had returned from her loft apartment where she had begun to return in order to paint. Home? Esther thought as she drew near the front door—she wasn’t sure if she ever remembered Nikki calling it that – The Old House, yes, but home? Did Nikki think of this as a home . . . or was it only a house.

There was one good sign, she thought, at least Nik had taken to resting in her bed and not that grey metallic box.

Esther opens the front door ran sees Nikki sitting on the soda, the candles in the large antique candelabrum, on the heavy wooden coffee table, flickering now from the draft the open door makes.

Nikki, who has been sitting there on the sofa, apparently just looking out the window turns slowly to see her, “Good evening, Esther, and how are you tonight?”

“Ah—you’re up. Good. I just got the turkey. Thought I would get it before the runs.” She takes off her coat and hangs it in the coat closet, “Tonight? I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

She carries the plastic bag to the kitchen before something leaks and places the turkey in the refrigerator.

Normally, Nicole would be sitting relaxed and comfortable, having arisen to find Samantha lying beside her – lips awakening her like a sleeping beauty. She could smell a lingering trace of her still – the light perfume, the scent of her hair. Only Nikki was not in her usual languid cat-like repose. She seemed now preoccupied, sitting there her right leg furled up under her, left hooked over her knee, looking at he window, staring out the window into the darkness of the night.

For some reason Nikki could not shake this feeling – this lethargy that had settled over her. A depression? She did not know – she only knew that for some reason she felt this vague sense of loneliness . . . apathy . . . even though only an hour ago she had been with Sam.

Esther returns from the kitchen –

“The turkey,” Nikki smiles, “Thank you so much for getting it.”

Esther nods, aware that something is weighing on Nikki’s mind, “ Not a problem. Of course, I have never cooked a turkey before. Should be interesting.”

“Well, it will be an experience for the both of us, as I haven’t either.” Nikki says, “Sorry – I’ve just been a bit distracted.”

“Oh? Same things on your mind?”

“Yes—same old . . . things.” Nikki says, sitting slightly sideways on the sofa as she props her elbow on the back and rest her hand against her fist as she stares out the front window, “I have been thinking about going back to England.”

Esther walks over and takes a seat in her chair, “England? For a trip?”

Still looking out the window, “No actually – for good. Things being what they are.”

“For good! Esther sits forward, “Ya want to leave here for good?”

“Well,” A sigh, “Esther, when Dr. Hoffman said in her last letter to me to come back here – to Collinsport, it was supposed to help me find some answers – get some piece of mind.” Nikki continues to look out the window, “Only, I haven’t found any answers, just more vexing questions. And, of all the things I have found, peace of mind isn’t one of them.”

Esther looks at Nikki, concerned, “You found Sam and Rhyaad . . . an myself. You stopped a two0ton robot from destroying the city.”

‘Esther my world – my world has changed.”

‘So you’re world has changed? What you want to go back home to see if ya can find those answers?”

“I don’t know – I thought I knew who I was, what I a ma – but now. I’m not so sure anymore . . . . and . . . oh, Esther I am so sorry to burden you with all of this.”

‘Esther throws her arms up in exasperation, “Ok. Go if ya want. Go! Go all the way to f*****g Russia if ya want.” She sighs, and calms a bit, looking at her friend, “But remember Nik, you are always welcome here. But – if you feel like you need t’get your s*** straight. Then alright.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, “Have you told Sam?”

“No – “ Nikki says, and Esther knows by the tone of her voice she hasn’t really made any decision. “I guess – if it is possible for me to feel – I’m just blue. I mean, it is not at all easy to discover that you weren’t really anything more than an experiment, some type of bargaining chip.”

Esther looks at her: “Nik. I have told you a thousand times. You’re not an experiment, or a monster, creation, or whatever. You are a person, and a d*** good person too. And even if your birth was less than natural, it does not change who you are. Remember that, if nothing else. When all else fails remember. You are a person.”

“Yes—and people in town shun me, they don’t know why, but they do – I see them, they look at me when they think I am not looking . . . people walk on the other side of the road. I mean I really hate to say it, but sometimes I think I understand Bathory more than I want to.”

Suddenly there is a knock on the front window.

“If people shun you then f*** em. It’s their—” They both turn to look at the window where they see Yura smiling, her knuckles lightly rapping on the window.

Nikki motioned for Yura to enter.

Yura walks around and opens the door and steps into the sitting room and bows.: ‘Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Oh that’s alright – “ Nikki tells her and falls silent for a moment. She looks at Esther: “You know who my mother is, what if I – what if I wake up to find I have become—like her?”

“Your worried about becoming your mother?” Esther asks.

“Parents influence. They do not define.” That’s what my grandfather always told me.’ Yura says walking over to take a seat.

“I am her – daughter . . . I have her genetic make up – ”

“DNA does not make personality!” Esther tells her, “It only allows for certain traits to be carried on from parent to offspring. I only have a f***ing High school degree, and even I know that.”

“Plus, I can’t shake this feeling . . . ” Nikki says, “I have no idea why I am so down and disheartened – I feel “

“Nik you’re still recovering from that attack.” Esther offered.

“Yes, I still feel it – a vague something – like a shadow of a memory – the feeling that something evil is slouching it’s way, perhaps to me, since the death of the Reverend Mother –”

Esther, planting her forehead in her palm: “Nik, this isn’t some cheap horror story.”

[It’s is a well funded horror soap opera]

“You are not going to wake up and suddenly be your mother. As for the death of some catholic person I know barely anything about, the only thing I can say is that if any Evil comes this way, I’ll shoot it, and you run. It’s a great tactic; and I’d hate to change it now.”

“I’ll help however I can.” Yura offered.

“Nik. Everyday you work yourself up more and more about this. If you want to go back to England to get your S*** straight. Ok. Fine. But only long enough to get everything sorted out. This city needs you Nik. If the people can’t realize this, then screw em.”

Nikki: “Well – you have got to all the trouble of getting us a turkey.”

Outside the rumbling of a large engine is followed by sound of a car door opening and closing. Rhyaad comes up to the door. Being as how he is staying here now, he does not knock, but just comes in.

Nikki puts on a smile, “And so, then, the two of us, neither of whom has never cooked one of them, we’ll just see if we can without burning the kitchen down.”

“Don’t worry about the turkey Nik.” Esther said, trying to get Nikki’s mind back on a puzzle and not these recent revelations from Dr. Praetorius. “Why not work on the Vera case. That’ll get your mind off the subject. Beside – I may end up roasting it over an open fire out back. But we’ll work somthin out. Maybe Sam knows.”

Esther’s watch beeps with the passing of 12:00. She looks at it.

“Is it that late already?”
Esther Nods, “I’ll be right back. I wanna show you somthin’.” And she gets up and walks up the stairs, enters her room and closes the door.

Rhyaad came into the sitting room noticing the guest on the sofa.

“Rhyaad, you know Yura, yes?” Nikki asked.

He recognized the blonde woman and nodded. “Yes, I know her. How are you miss Yura?” He walked over and took a seat near her.

The headlights of a car driving up to the Old House skims across the windowpanes of the front windows as an automobile now pulls to a halt beside the black convertible. A tall, attractive woman gets out of the car and walks over toward the front door. She hesitates a moment in front of the door and takes a moment to look at reflection in the glass of the front door. She tosses back her hair and says in a whisper to herself, “Show time.”

Yura, taking not of the arrival of the car and the woman, replies to Rhyaad, “I am well.”

The woman at the door knocks; Nikki in anticipation of the knock had already risen from the sofa and was slowly sauntering over to the front door.

She opens it and for a moment is a bit uncertain – She looks like Natasha Snow only she has dark hair and stands and moves differently.

“Miss Collins . . . hello, I am Lillian Snow, may I come in?”

“Yes, by all means do – please come in.”

Rhyaad nods to Yura. Then, at the overhearing of that name, Lillian Snow, he twitches.

As Nikki closes the door behind her, Lillian Margaret Snow, steps into the sitting room.

“Oh, what a lovely home you have, Miss Collins.”

“This should be interesting”, Rhyaad whispered to Yura.

‘Oh, thank you. “ Nikki follows her, keen eyes observing her, “Would you care to take a seat?” She motions her to Esther usual chair.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Lillian Snow walks looks over at Rhyaad and Yura with a bright smile before sitting.

“Miss Snow”, he bows his head at her in that odd little nod.

“Snow – are you by any chance related to Natasha Snow?” Nikki asks, her blue eyes intensely staring at the dark-haired woman who looks too remarkably like Natasha Snow.

“Oh, well, I see you are no doubt going to be busy, “ Yura says and arises. “It’s late I hall stop by and see you another time.”
Nikki nods, her interest now upon the newest Snow of her acquaintance., “Yes, please, do – anytime Yura.”

Yura waves and leaves.

“You were saying, Ms Snow,” Nikki looking at Lillian Snow with interest.

Lillian nods, “Oh, Yes. I am. I am her Aunt. In fact, Natasha is the reason I have stopped by to see you – as there was no one at your offices. I understand you keep odd hours.”

“Her aunt – her Aunt Lillian?” Nikki asks.

Rhyaad looked worried. “Natasha is not missing, is she?”

Lillian looked at him very strangely, “How ever did you guess . . . Mister . . . I don’t think I got your name.”

“Her Aunt Lillian Margaret Snow?” Nikki continues to make the point of her name.

“de’Annar, Madame.” His worried look got deeper, and he looked at Nikki.

“You do seem a but confused about my name Miss Collins.” Lillian Snow says, sitting back and waving a hand with a bit of a dramatic flair, “I can understand of course seeing as how I was named for my Great-Aunt, whom I think you would know as Vera Endecott.”

She looked over at Rhyaad and then back to Nikki, “I think Natasha had hired you regarding some of her work, some films . . . and I do want you to know I feel badly that she acted the way she did with you – you are aware I am sure of her profession and well, she does have a certain, I would say, flair—and so,” Lillian opens her small clutch purse and removes a check, which she passes over to Nikki.

Nikki takes the check casually and looks at it.

“I would like to clear up that little matter – she did not have the best head for business.”

Rhyaad’s brow wrinkled even more, and he looked back and forth between Nikki and this “Snow woman”.

Upstairs the door to Esther’s room opens and she exits her room, wearing an odd looking dress, and carrying two short squat yellow candles in glass jars.

Nikki looked at the check: seven thousand dollars. “Did not have, Aunt Lillian? That sounds very much in the past tense.”

Esther: makes her way down the stairs, reciting the Mourner’s Kaddish, the prayer for the dead.

Lillian looks back over she shoulder, Nikki detects nervousness.

“Well—“

Esther makes her way down the stairs: “Yisgadal v’yiskadash sh’mei rabbaw.B’allmaw dee v’raw chir’usei v’yamlich malchusei,b’chayeichon, uv’yomeichon,uv’chayei d’chol beis yisroel,ba’agawlaw u’vizman kawriv, v’imru: Amein.”

“You see – “ Lillian Snow begins and looks back at Esther descending the stairs.

“I was under the impression”, Rhyaad ventured, “that ‘Vera Endecott’ was only a stage name. Her real name was . . . Snow.”

Esther reaching the foot of the stairs continues to recite the prayer, seemingly unaware of the conversation going on in the sitting room.

Lillian looked over at him, “Yes, Vera Endecott was a stage name you are correct, her real name was Lillian Margaret Snow.”

“Y’hei sh’mei rabbaw m’vawrach l’allam u’l’allmei allmayaw.Yis’bawrach, v’yishtabach, v’yispaw’ar, v’yisromam, v’yis’nasei,v’yis’hadar, v’yis’aleh, v’yis’halawl sh’mei d’kudshaw b’rich hu.” Esther makes her way over to the kitchen counter.

“Did not have a head for business,” Nikki keenly observing her.

“I’m sorry – perhaps a bad choice of words.” Lillian Snow offered distracted by the prayer for the dead.

“Ms Snow this a little more than the case “ Nikki offers indicating the amount of the check.

“Well, yes, but you see it also includes a retainer.” Looking back now from the stairs where ester has passed beyond her sight. “You see I would like to hire you to help find Natasha . . . you see . . . she’s . . . she just up and disappeared last night.”

“You seem a little upset, could I get you a drink, Miss Snow?” Rhyaad rose and offered.

Esther’s voice could be heard from the kitchen, “”L’aylaw min kol birchawsaw v’shirawsaw, tush’b’chawsaw v’nechemawsaw, da’ami’rawn b’all’maw, v’imru: Amein.”
“Vodka, perhaps? Wine? Tea?”

Esther sets the two Yartzite Candle’s on the counter, and finishes the prayer: “Oseh shawlom bim’ro’mawv, hu ya’aseh shawlom, awleinu v’al kol yisroel v’imru: Amein.”

Nikki leaned forward and places the check on the table before her and then sits back, crossing her legs and propping an elbow on the arm of the sofa, where she slipped her thumb her chin to study Ms Lillian Snow: “And so you want us to find Natasha?”

“Yes, something may have happened to her. You have of course heard about that film critic from the newspaper – Ian, Ian Finch.”

“A drink Miss Snow?” Rhyaad asks again.

Apparently glad the prayer is over Lillian regains her composure, “Oh, Vodka, with a little ice would be very nice—if you have some.”

“No, I am sorry, I have not heard,” Nikki replies, “ Has something happened to Mr. Finch?”

Rhyaad nodded. “Just a moment. “ He stopped on his way to the cocktail table, “I’d like to hear what happened to Finch as well.”

“Oh, yes,” Lillian says a bit breathlessly, “They found him this afternoon. Seems he had been hung on a tree in the cemetery. He was bound with ropes. His throat had been slashed. His eyes removed, along with this tongue. Seems his mouth was stitched up with something like cat gut.” She hesitated for a moment, and then finishes, “And he had had been disemboweled — oh it sounds so ghastly horrible. I can only imagine what the poor man must have felt.”

Nikki leans forward, her blue eyes having gone a shade darker. ‘That is amazing, it is precisely how Vera Endecott was murdered.”

“Well, he was so into Vera – sometimes it is most unfortunate to find one’s heart’s desire?”

“Terrible! How shocking! That’s just like Vera’s murder. I—I will get you a drink.” Rhyaad said and stepped over to the antique cocktail table. As there was no ice, he moves on instead toward the kitchen.

“Strange – like History repeating itself . . ..” Lillian said.

As he enters the Kitchen, Rhyaad sees Esther in her odd looking dress; her eyes closed, just standing in front of the Yartzhite Candles. “Nice dress Esther”, he commented nonchalantly. “Traditional?”

Now that he was in the kitchen and out of sight, Rhyaad poured a little glass of vodka, and mixed in a bit of salt.

Nikki calls to Rhyaad in the kitchen, “Oh, could you make me one of those Mary’s Bloody that I had last night, Rhyaad?”

“Oh course, you know – knowing Natasha’s lifestyle, there is no telling what may have happened to her. She could have simply gone back to Southern California.”

“Yes, Nikki.” He nodded and poured a ‘special drink’ for her, mixing bottled blood from Romania with a shot of vodka, sans salt, for a very literal ‘bloody’ drink.

Nikki, chin leaning on her thumb looks at the woman, “I was wondering, did Natasha ever get a chance to see those films she was so eager to view.’

“The ones that were stolen?” Lillian asks, “Well – you know – it would appear that this Finch was then one who stole them . . . and yes, I think he and Natasha watched them.”

Rhyaad’s ears perked at that. He came back, setting down drinks.

Lillian takes the drink, sips and smiles, “Oh, that is sooooo good, it’s been so long since . . . . I had a really well made drink, sir.”

Nikki takes her drink and smiles, “It is good to taste something you have been missing — isn’t it?”

He started to raise his eyebrow, then managed to control himself to hide his surprise. “I’m glad you like it, Miss Snow.”

“It certainly is, now are you going to take my case or not, Miss Collins.”

“Have you been to the police.”

“Well – I am sure you’re aware, ” Sipping her drink, “how they are, 48 hours and all, but you can get started much sooner can’t you?”

Rhyaad nodded. “We can. Do you know where Natasha was last seen? And Finch, for that matter?”

Nikki sips her drink, looks at Rhyaad and raises an eyebrow, “I would say since you have been so generous, Ms Snow, including a retainer, I would hate to ask you to write another check — so yes, we be more than glad to help you find out where Natasha went.”
“Oh, great, ” She gulps down her drink. “No I really have to run. It’s late.” She stands up and smiles, “Thank you for the drink, Mr. de’Annar.”

She looks at Nikki who has not risen, but remains seated. “I will be checking on you about the case, good bye.”

“Good evening, Miss Snow.” He bowed his head to her as she left.”

Lillian shows herself out, and walks hurriedly to her car. She closes her eyes and looks for a moment pale, as if she were about to be sick – then gets in the car hurriedly. She starts the automobile and turns it in the drive and races off.

“Well, Rhyaad? What do you think?”

The instant she is gone his expression changes completely. “Nikki! Gods! We are too late!”

“She once was an actress – how did you like Vera’s performance?”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what it was. Vera’s performance. She is Vera. Take that glass and get it fingerprinted. I bet you will find the fingerprints are Natasha’ as I would not be surprised if Natasha hasn’t been arrested for something.”

Nikki nodded, “I plan to take it to St. Clair. I am sure she must be investigating Finch’s death.”

“I put salt in her vodka, Nikki, and she did not even notice.”

“She was too much into the performance I would say – perhaps to even notice. She seemed a bit nervous at first, but got over stage fright fairly quickly I would say.”

“Oh, she did it well, except for the part about not being able to taste things properly, perhaps as a result of being DEAD for so long.” Rhyaad offered, “Or maybe it’s because her tongue was cut out . . . ”

“And just grown back—” Nikki thinks of that “—how horrible.”

“But why hire us? Why not just pay us off. What’s her plot here?”

Nikki is lost in thought, “A day late — it would see. We were a day late. They must have done the transference last night.” She looked up and over at him, “Yes, that is a very good question, Rhyaad. More importantly, why is she using her own name – you would have thought she would have come up with a new one. It is like she knows we know, and she either doesn’t care – or there is another reason why she wants us to know. “

Nikki takes a sip of her Bloody Vodka, “What are these people up to?”

“Indeed. Do you think it’s a trap, Nikki?”

“It is something – I don’t know what as yet, but – it most certainly could be a trap. We need to proceed with caution.”

They sit for a moment in silence.

“Now, the question is, “Nikki sits back with her glass, thinking, “Is Natasha now in one of those films?”

“I would be a blessing if she were. Better then being dead. Or trapped in a body possessed by someone else.”

“Did Dr. Swift say there was the need for a certain camera? One needed to film the subject and the Projector used to restore them?” Nikki looks into the red liquid of her glass, “Of course I can’t go to the Miskatonic to find out. Apparently like Elizabeth I am not welcomed there.”

“I don’t recall that, no. But I would not be surprised. Perhaps we should consult with Miss Swift.”

“You may have to.”

“Does he still have that barrier up?”

“He has something and will not invite me in – and as Mother told me after the incident with the Dog – never go back where you are not invited.”

“I suppose he had that vicious animal bite her?”

“She claims he was about to set the dog on her.” Nikki says preoccupied with her thoughts, “I would like to know more about this technology, so could you try to see Dr. Swift, please find out what you can.”

Cue music end of episode