Just About Closing Time

Collinsport in the year 2012. While Angelique Collins has returned to the past, to the year 1933, in her attempt to find the Crimson Pearl, in order to restore her lost husband, Barnabas, another restoration has occurred. Only, this restoration may have ramifications which will ripple through more than just Collinsport or the Collins Family, but through the fabric of time. For the Repairer of Reputations as restored the youth of a powerful wizard and along with this gift a restoration of his powers. And now, Count Andreas Petofi, whose plans had been previously disrupted, once again prepares to put the pieces on the game board of his infamously, fiendish devising. .

The October sea breeze blew through the open doors of the cafe lightly stirring the red and white table. The Waitress is glad to see the last customer depart, as it has been a slow night and she has hoped to close up early in order to meet her boyfriend, as this would give them a very unexpected hour together. But she turns now to see a gentleman entering the café. He is tall, with what appears to be prematurely white hair, and oddly, like some crazy Michael Jackson fan, he wears a single black glove.

Count Petofi strides over very casually to a table and pulls back a chair to have a seat so that he can look out the open-air doorways to watch the street. He seems to have a rather wicked smile, the young waitress thinks as she steps over to the table. “Yes, sir – it is a bit late so most of our menu is not available at the moment.”

“That my dear is disheartening as I am truly famished.” He says with a low voice, which is almost a whisper. ‘But, I shall endeavor to endure. I shall have a scotch, neat, if you please.”

“Right—that means no ice, right.”

He smiles, “Yes, you clever girl.”

He lifts his ungloved hand and turns it over so as to examine it, the flesh—smiling at the renewed youthful appearance. The waitress returns with his drink and places the glass on the table. “Thank you.” He replies. “I can assure you I shall do my best not detain you and your paramour, from your hasty embraces, any longer than necessary – but I am to meet a colleague of mine here rather shortly. Ah, if I am not mistaken, here he comes now.”

The young waitress looks up and on the cobblestone street she sees a tall, swarthy gentlemen with long black hair, wind tussled, and dressed in a dark suit with a rich silk vest. He approaches the café as he crosses the street. His fingers are adorned with many rings and he wears what appears to be some amulet about his neck. “If you would be so kind as to have a seat behind the bar and allow us some privacy.” The Count says and lifts his gloved hand.

The young waitress nods, and turns to walk back around the bar and she takes a seat.

“Aristede my boy, late as usual. “ The Count says in greeting as Aristede enters the open mullioned, double doors.

Aristede looks at the Count, eyes narrowing, as he glares at him, “Count?”

“A pretty girl to turn your head – no doubt?”

“Is that you?” Aristede begins a wry smile, “I mean, you look like you did back in . . . back when you were–.”

“Yes, time certainly does seem at times confusing.”

Aristede pulls back a chair and sits across from Count Petofi. He can’t disguise his amazement at the youthful appearance of the man at the table. “How—How is this possible?”

“Magick my dear boy, with a ‘k’” And he laughs, “So this young lady . . . for whom you have found yourself detained. If your needs have been adequately satiated, perhaps we could get to matters at hand?”

“Yes, Victor.”

“Good—now, word of Simon or Joseph?”

“Well, Joseph continues to be rather elusive . . . as he has yet to reveal himself. Are you,” he leans forward, “Sure that he is even here?”

“I can assure you my friend that all the principles in this orchestrated reunion are represented. Now about Simon?”

Aristede idly turns the ring on his forefinger, “He of course left Collinsport when that whole fiasco at the Cranshaw House when down – he was last seen in Providence . . . “

“Ah, yes, The House on Benefit Street?”

“He took that Snow girl there.”

“The most delectable Miss Lillian.”

“No, the other one – the crazy one. Narcissa. The one your granddaughter killed on that island in the middle of the Miskatonic.”

Victor Fenn-Gibbon takes a sip of his scotch and smiles, “Nicole—she becomes ever more fascinating.”

“If you say so, Victor—I personally do not find Vampires fascinating at all. Why you even allow that – Lily – around is beyond me.”

“Dear Lily—you will find my boy that everyone has their uses.” The Count feeling now more and more like himself, or, to say, when he was Victor Fenn-Gibbon – that was 1841 . . . or 2? “The House on Benefit Street—if you have an aversion to the leeches, then you best give that house a wide berth.

“Simon or Blair, as he calls himself now, he collected up her body and took it to that house.”

The Count sat and contemplated the darken street outside the open doors of the café, he then looked over at Aristede, “We must proceed with care my lad, until we know precisely what game the others are playing. For one among them betrayed us and we will not allow them a opportunity to do so again.”

“Game,” Aristede asks, “I thought we were playing your game.”

Petofi as Fenn-Gibbon smiles, “There are games within games, my boy. As I have upon many occasions discovered from my mentor, the Dark Pharaoh. Now – Mehitable and Dominique?”

“Mehitable’s purchased an old estate, the Pearce Estate. I am not sure precisely what she is up to—and we can be assured that it will not be anything good. She when to Providence and for some reason she’s taken that crazy Snow–Narcissa–away from Simon, or Blair.”

“Mehtiable has Narcissa Snow?”

“Yes—and that other crazy woman. Sam Brook.”

“Intriguing – Mehitable can always be counted upon to be the wild card in every game. Now Dominique?”

“She’s opened a Jazz Club – and seems to be not doing much of anything at all that I can tell.”

“That’s when she is most dangerous.”

“I don’t think she’s been in contact with any of the others.”

Petofi smiled and nearly laughed.

“But, Victor, I mean, all this nonsense about this book,” Aristede asks in a low voice, “I mean, you are still after the Box, right?”

“Yes, the Box – it will lead me back to her.”

“But don’t we know where she is—I mean you can look it up in the Collins Family history . . . “

“Yes, but that is mere myth and legend – subterfuge to protect her from the one who tried to murder her once before.”

“Protect?”

“She found safe haven in time—and I do not know where . . . as yet.”

Aristede leans forward and points with his finger, “But even if you find her, you still need your granddaughter too?”

“Yes.”

“But—that is not going to be possible, Victor. She is going to kill you as soon as she sees you.”

“You will find that Nicole has her own agenda my boy.”

“So . . . when you get the two of them—together . . .”

“Together their power is immense.” And Victor Fenn-Gibbon, Count Andreas Pefoti, takes a sip of the scotch letting it warm him, as he takes a deep relaxing breath. “You have no idea what they could do together . . .”

“Then . . . and you are sure you want to do this, Victor?”

He looks at him sternly, “What do you think this is all about?”

Cue Music End of Episode