Collnsport. Having returned to their present time, the members of Collins Investigations have been dealing with the aftermath of their mysterious journey into the past. Brief though it may have been, if has had its lingering effects on each member. Esther Friedman, the vivid recollection of the day her parents died. Nicole Collins, new and disturbing revelations regarding her mother’s past – and her own renewed recollections of events in her own past that she has kept secret. Samantha Brook – strange anxieties she has yet to come to understand. And for Rhyaad de’Annar, a sojourn into a land he has never seen. While in Collinsport, a stranger, a young man by the name of Darin Blackwater – the chide of Rhyaad de’Annar – has arrived with instructions to watch over Rhyaad’s interests. Only, his appearance has been most disturbing to not only the staff and customers of Rhyaad’s tearoom but, those Rhyaad knows and has left information regarding on his blackberry. Tonight, it will bring a violent confrontation.

It was a warm summer’s night with a refreshing breeze coming in off the North Atlantic. Sea air with just the hint of salt – it was refreshing, the salty trace of the sea, he felt it as soon as he stepped out of the car and closed the door. It was a bit chill. Low sixties for a July night. But all in all he was happy that he had made the decision to purchase the old Victorian house on the beach. He was becoming more and more attached to the early morning horizon and the roar of the sea as he stepped out on the front veranda of his seaside house each morning with his cup of tea and the Collinsport Star, to sit quietly and read the news and greet the day.

Yes, there was definitely something about the air, the scent of the sea, the early morning sun that reminded him of his youth – the vacations here in Maine. And for a moment he felt as if he were in a Marcel Proust novel and smiled.

He buttoned his dark suit jacket and adjusted the cuffs.

The late summer’s night was still twilight and Collinsport was filled with pedestrians and slowly moving cars. As he walked from his rental car, Dr. Artemis had heard the comparison and was beginning to concur that the small costal city was indeed becoming more and more like Kingsport – without the mists.

A haven, a tourist attraction, for artists and vacationers.

He was well aware that in an hour, the traffic would thin and most of the tourists would be back at their Victorian Bed & Breakfasts, or affordable motels, all settling in for the night. Most if not all of them blissfully unaware of what walked the streets at night.

Artemis’ hand touches the comfort of his pocket watch.

As he approached, he wondered why they had not changed the lettering on the windows, which indicated that the storefront was still the law offices of Matigan & Wiley, rather than Collins Investigations.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The outer office was one main room with a desk set in the center. One wall was reserved for books – some of which he had recognized on previous visits and felt they should not be so prominently displayed. There was a rifle hanging on the wall behind the central desk. An old battered olive green refrigerator, which promptly cycled it’s loud motor off. There were bullet holes in the wall, and stains on the floor.

He didn’t have to be a doctor to know that the stains were dried blood.

“Hello. Miss Collins? Miss Friedman? Miss Brook?” He said aloud as there was no one in the room.”

The side door opens and Esther Friedman enters from the bathroom.

“Oh.” Dr. Artemis said startled, “There you are, Miss Friedman. Nice to see you again.”

“Hello there.” She says and walks over to the central desk and pulls back her chair and takes a seat.

Her desk was set in the center of the room, because, as the doctor was well aware, Esther Friedman was the hub of this office. Miss Collins was the reclusive detective, but Esther was one who kept the office running – selectively filtering out those who came through the front doors.

She was the Collins Investigations most people were ever to see.

“All the way from Massachusetts again, I see.” She said and reaches for her pack of cigarettes, and then thinks better of it, looking up at the doctor, “Welcome back.”

“Oh, well I am staying in Collinsport for a bit Miss Friedman. I’ve taken a cottage off of Water Street”

Esther’s lips draw tight, “Great.” She says flatly.

Great, just what we need another doctor from Massachusetts – and Arkham of all places. A lightening rod for more weird s**t. As if we didn’t have problems enough, she thinks as she begins to sort some files on the desk, wishing now she had just lit up the cigarette. “How can I help you Doctor?”

“I have a question.” Dr. Artemis says and takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, “Actually, it might be something you want to know about. Have you heard of a man named Darian Blackwater?”

Esther staples some papers together, “Blackwater. Ain’t that a mercenary group?”

He nods and crosses his legs, sitting back in the chair, “It is, but I don’t think he’s connected with them. Rather he claims to be a private investigator. He might be a competitor.”

Dr. Artemis turns his head suddenly as he hears a noise. “Oh. Miss Brook. You startled me.” He says as he looks up to the second floor landing to she the disheveled Samantha Brooks.

Samantha Brook, having stepped out the door of her second floor room to stand on the landing overlooking the main office, slips down the stairs now looking incredibly tired and stressed, as she pets the ferret she carries. “What’s the noise?” she whines.

Esther, having reached over for a pen, grabs a random piece of paper and writes, “Darian . . . Black . . . water.”

“I was just telling Miss Friedman about our encounter with Mr. Blackwater.” The doctor informs her as he watches Miss Brook descend the stairs – his attention mostly focused on the ferret.

Esther glances at the pack of cigarettes – is that all she has, just what’s the in pack? “And what exactly is important about this person?”

“Oh for the love of—“ Samantha says slumps into the opposite chair from the doctor.

“Like I said, he might be a competitor . . . ” The doctor offers, “ . . . Or a predator.”

“So are the police.” She opens a desk drawer and looks inside to see an unopened pack inside and feels the sudden relief of having found it there, “So are any number of investigators throughout the state.” She is more than aware there has to be something more about this Blackwater character then what he is saying – well, the little bit he is saying, as always.

“Can’t we just call Chris Hansen then?” Samantha asks.

“He seems to have a lot of information about us.” The doctor says with emphasis on a lot.

“—Us?” Esther asks – now really wanting that cigarette.

“Chris Hansen?” The doctor turns his head to look over at Miss Brook.

“If he’s a Predator.” She replies idly playing with her ferret.

He looks rather quizzically at Miss Brook, “There was a weathergirl named Kris Hansen . . . ”

Esther straightens up in her chair, “Doctor Artemis. First of all, what do you mean by, us?

“Several of us. Me, Nicole Collins, Professor Swift . . . no doubt yourself.“ He looks back to Esther with concern, “It seems he has availed himself of Rhyaad de’Annar’s blackberry.”

Esther frowns. She writes down some notes.

“There’s no telling what he might do with this information . . . ”

“You still haven’t told me what information you mean?”

“I mean, there is the possibility of television interviews, or leaking to the papers, even blackmail . . . . Any and everything is possible.” He considers.

“Our income reports?” Esther asks – looking up suddenly, “Our tax returns?”

“Possibly.”

Samantha Brook sighs as the ferret purrs, “It’s just bios, histories—data, that’s all Esther.”

“He didn’t state everything he had.” The doctor says cutting a glance to Miss Brook, then back to Esther, “But he was more than glad to drop cryptic hints.”

“And yet you still refrain from telling me any specifics.”

“Well—neither did he.” The doctor offers, “But he made clear that he knew a great deal.”

“Then he may very well be bluffing.”

Dr. Artemis smiles quietly to myself, “But maybe not everything.”

Esther sighs and put down her pen, “As vague as ever Doctor Artemis.”

Samantha’s ferret jumps onto the desk and cautiously making it’s way over the desktop sniffs at one of Esther’s empty bottles of beer.

“I came here hoping to give you the heads up about this man.” Dr. Artemis replies wishing that Miss Collins was available, “He looks at the close door of her office – “Is she here?”

“No.” Esther tells him.

“Pity.”

“Well thank you, doctor. I will let Nik know.”

Dr. Artemis watching the foraging ferret asks, “Do you have a license for that animal, Miss Brook?”

“Yeeeeaaasssss?” She says – tired of everyone picking on her having a ferret.

“OK.” The doctor says, how Collins is able to put up with her is a mystery. “I do think you need to let Miss Collins know – about Blackwater.”

Esther nods, “Right. I shall alert Nikki that this man is obviously a man to be hunted down and shot because he may or may not happen to know where I keep my hidden whisky bottles.”

“Well . . . “ Dr. Artemis stands up. “Just tell – her, I am certain she will not be at all happy to learn this information.”

“Maybe . . . possibly.” Samantha says as if thinking over whether or not they should –whether Blackwater was truly a threat.

“If you do shoot him, make sure you use silver bullets.” He says with a wry smile and removes ihs pocket watch.

Samantha Brook reaches over and scoops the ferret up from Esther’s desk.

He looks at his watch. Snaps it closed.

“I thank you for your offering of information doctor.” Esther tells him.

“Goodnight, ladies.” He says to them and nods.

“But there is little I can go on with a name and a vague description of he knows things.” Esther informs him.

Dr. Artemis sighs and then nods – best to come back when Miss Collins is available he decides and then exits the building.

Esther watches for the door to close and then quickly reaches out for her crumpled pack of cigarettes. She flicks one out, but it’s a bit bent so she carefully straightens it as she reaches for her Zippo. Snaps it open. “You know, I just can’t seem to make myself trust that man.” Flicks the striker wheel and the flame ignites the end of her cigarette.

“I think he wants to take Miyuki away . . . ”

Esther draws on the cigarette, closing the Zippo, “The rat?”

“Why else would he care about licenses?” Samantha tell her, “I don’t trust him . . .

Esther sighs, smoke escaping from her nostrils and lips as she starts to type something now on her laptop, “Because he’s a law abiding citizen? Well, I don’t trust him either, but . . . for different reasons, perhaps.”

“Oh?” Samantha asks, wondering what are Esther’s reasons for distrust.

“What was this man again? Bluewater?”

“Blackwater.”

Esther looks down at her scribbled note, “Ah yes. So, you met Blackwater too apparently?”

“Yeah—I almost got his phone.”

Esther stops typing and looks over at Samantha, one eye slightly squinting against the backward curl of cigarette smoke, “Anything we need to be concerned about?”

Samantha Brook rubs the head of Miyuki. “I don’t think so. Well, as long as we don’t piss him off.”

“Then why where you trying to get his phone?” Esther says, beginning a background search.

“I wanted to see what he had on me.”

A hard rap comes on the door – the glass pane in the door rattling.

“So you think he really does have intel-” She doesn’t finish her sentence owing to the banging on the door.

“Someone says they have dirt on me, I have the right to see if they have dirt . . . ”

“The door’s not locked!” Esther calls out as her hand now carefully slides open her desk drawer – the one which contains her revolver.

The door opens with a rattle and a tall, young blonde man, with steel-toed boots – a young man whom Esther doesn’t recognize, but suspects immediately is this Blackwater – comes clumping in. His boots landing heavily on the hardwood floor.

Samantha looks over, recognizing Darien Blackwater as he kicks the door close with the heel of his boot and gives her a smirk. “Not intruding, I hope? And who has dirt on you?”

Esther glares, “You. You have dirt. On your shoes. Can I help you sir.”

Samantha and Miyuki hiss in perfect unison.

Esther takes note of their reaction and slowly stubs her cigarette out. Her hand now ready to make a move to the drawer.

“Awww . . . y’all ain’t still mad at me are you Miss Brook?” Blackwater says with sarcasm in his drawl.” He pulls out a cigarette and takes out a pack of matches. Strikes one into a flare of flame, lights his cigarette, and flipping the match out, absently tosses it backwards on the floor.

Esther watches the match hit the hardwood.

“Can I guess that you are the infamous Blackwater? The man with so vague a description, it amounts to “He is an Alluder” Esther says sitting still – ready to move for her revolver if need be. “Can we help you sir?”

“Why – who was it that described me in such dull terms, Miss Friedman?” he answered taking a long draw off his cigarette, and then exhaling a long plume of smoke, “I would have preferred a more colorful description, you know. I am a very colorful personality, once you get to know me, that is. But –“ He says now clumping his heavy boots on the floor as he advances on the desk, “Actually I am here to help you. Rhyaad . . . he’s still on his thing,’’ He flicks ashes on the floor, “You know.”

“No. I don’t know. And if you have any help to give I wish you’d stop being so damned obnoxious about it.”

“What you want pretty boy?” Samantha asks – giving him a stern glare as he is now in Nik’s offices and not Rhy’s tearoom, “I mean, clumping around the tearoon is not enough – you have to come here to scuff up the floor. You know, here I have full right to dump you on your ass.”

“I am not the one who is starting out being so hostile, Miss Friedman.” He says and turns with a snide sneer to Samantha, “But, hey, crazy lady – “ He waves his arms open, invitingly, “Come and dump me baby anytime . . . that’d be fun to see you try.”

Esther maintains her steady glare at him, “You know, antagonizing her is probably the least smartest thing to do.”

“I just came to deliver the message.’” He says as if infinitely bored as he holds his cigarette out and taps ashes to the floor, “My illustrious maker—he will be back tomorrow night. I, however, may darken your town a bit longer. That woman . . . and I use the term lightly . . . Winterflower, she showed me some incredible things last evenin’.” He said remembering the euphoric feeling and hallucinations he had experienced with but a drop of her blood she had dropped into a glass of wine, and offered it to him to drink—as they had sat back and gotten to know each other . . . much better, after everyone had left the night before. He can still feel the odd lingering euphoria now . . .

Samantha Brook suddenly stands up, “AAAAL-RIGHTY-THEN,” She grins maliciously.

“Really, Miss, t’wouldn’t be as much fun for you as you might think.” He says and stands with his hands on his hips sizing her up, “Just stop and think about it. Think about who’s blood I have in me.” And even as he said it, he wasn’t sure now if he was talking about Rhyaad or Miss Winerflower now – which was an odd thought.

Esther looks at him, her voice dropping in tone, “I think the word Alluder suites you perfectly Mr. Blackwater. A whole message given and not a single thing told.”

“Really—then ask, Miss Friedman.” He tells Ester. “What would you like to know?”

Samantha Brook not about to back down now motions to the door, “If you could step closer to the door? I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

“Me too, actually”, he tells Sam. “Want me to rub your ass in the dirt later?”

Esther stands up now suddenly, her chair sliding back on as she places her hands palm down atop the desk, “What th’ f*** do you mean by your f**king maker?” She had really just wanted a quiet night, just wanted to sit at her desk, put away some files, sort through some papers, take her mind off the thoughts, the images she had so desperately wanted not to continue to think about – to have to see again, replaying in her mind, after she had for so very long tried to suppress them. “What the f*** do you mean by darken my f**king town. I have just about had it with you f**king b*****ds coming into my f**king town and acting like you f**king own the f**king place. And half the f*ucking time none of you smart a**ed son-of-b****es make any g******ed sense. Vague a** s**t the lot of ya. Which f**king woman? Which f**king things? You couldn’t be more f**king vague if you f**king tried. Clumping you’re a** in here to deliver messages, and you haven’t told me one d***ed thing of substance, “Alluder!” Which just leads me to believe that you are just here to f**king bulls***t me. So unless you have something that is not a d***ed riddle wrapped in a bacon sandwich, I’m going to have to ask you to f**king leave.” She tells him pointedly, “Politely.”

“For investigators, you people sure are bad at askin’ questions, and making deductions.”

Samantha Brook looks over at Esther with a smile, “Well, send me to hell but by God a bacon sandwich does sounds good right now.”

“Because sir, I do not eat Bacon sandwiches.” Esther remains leaning forward, her right hand ever ready to move for her gun. “I’ve not been having the best of weeks. And this how this works—people come to us . . . and they give us information, they tell us what we need to know – we don’t stand around here having to ask dumb a**ed questions to drag s**t out of people just because your lazy a** is too d***ed lazy to say anything that means a s**t.”

“Well, since Miss Brook apparently has not informed you, I am Rhyaad de’Annar’s childe.” The tall, blonde man says, “And the ol’ geezer had one of his flip out sessions again. So—he wanted you to know he’s OK, relatively speaking, and not lost in time somewhere. Anymore . . . that is.”

Esther sits back down more comfortably, ”THANK you. How that wasn’t too f**king hard for you—was it?” She reaches for her crumpled pack of cigarettes, “So—I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. Course, he never told me he was married, but hey, I guess you think you know the guy—“

She gets up and walks over to the fridge.

“No problem”, he says, flipping a few ashes on the floor. Then chuckles with amusement. “Married? HA! We were never married. We were lovers once. A long time ago.”

“Chil-oh. I see.” She opens the fridge and grabs a beer—f**king ‘nother vampire! She kicks the fridge closed and walks back to her seat – are they every f**king where. God—she twists the cap off her beer bottle.

Darien Blackwater looks at the refrigerator; “You don’t have any chocolate in there, do you? Hershey’s?” he asked.

“Chocolate?” Ester says tossing the cap in her waste basket, “Chocolate and beer? No, we don’t have any chocolate.”

“Why are the families so fucked up here . . . “ Samantha mutters.

“Vampires always have fucked up families.”

“We are not a d**mned candy store.” Esther tries to steady herself, taking a drink – save for Nik she didn’t want to ever have to see another f**king vampire again.

She steps back to her desk, “So is that all? That Rhy is fine off somewhere and is returning from these parts unknown?”

“Not a candy store – but, you do have beer in a place of business.”

“Yeah, and we don’t have a liquor license so don’t expect to be getting serve – that all of your message that is to be delivered?”

“It seems he was thrown back in time to his most traumatic experience. He needs some time alone. He’ll get over it. And really, it was pretty horrible. Talk about fucked up families.” Blackwater tells her.

Samantha looks at the bottle in Esther’s hand, “Mmm beer.”

Darien Blackwater took another draw. “Did he tell you his own father made him.”

“Well.” Esther says sitting back down, “I’m sure we’ll have him tell us all about his terrible childhood when he gets back. Voodoo chide of his, or not – it’s his story to tell—”

“That’s just it—why I’m telling you. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He’d prefer you just didn’t know.”

“Like I said, it’s his story to tell – or not!”

“Oh, we’ll – I’ll make him talk.” Samantha says.

“And if he does not want to talk about it, why are you bringing it up?” Esther asks taking a drink from her bottle of beer, well aware she has her own story . . . which she doesn’t want to discuss, and is very thankful that Nikki has honored her wishes and not brought it up – at all. Oh, she wants to talk about – but at least she understands to wait. Not go off clumping around telling everyone – “One would think, that some people are allowed a little privacy into their own lives.”

“So he doesn’t have to. No doubt you would wonder where he went, why he was zapped away to some other place one night.”

“Yeah, well we where wondering, but I was . . . as I said, preoccupied.”

“I already know the whole story.” Blackwater said and dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it out with the steel-toe of his boot, “And I never ask him to repeat it. For his own sake.”

“Oh—how very kind of you?” Esther replies coldly, so why don’t you talk about it some more, she thinks.

“So you were preoccupied? The sudden disappearance of Rhyad in a flash of light – what didn’t seem important at the time?”

“If you must know, something a little closer to home came up.” Esther says her eyes narrowing and growing very, very stern.

Samantha Brook pulls out paper and starts scribbling madly, “What—you think he was the only one that went poofy poofy in that flash bang thing?

“Oh?’ Blackwater asks, “Anything you’d care to talk about? It’s interesting – I mean, just what could keep you from investigating that flash and then of course the disappearance of Rhyaad?” He parks a hip on the edge of Esther’s desk.

“Mr. Blackwater, Rhyaad is a business associate of mine and a friend of a friend. I am glad for his personal safety and that he will be returning to us. But something’s, well they trump that.” Her eyes now looking down at his hip parked on her desk.

He glances at Sam. “So other people went poof also?”

Esther puts her bottle of beer down on the desk, “No, we would not like to talk about it Mr. Blackwater. Now if you don’t mind, I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

“I see. Well then, consider that Rhyaad might not want to talk about what happened to him too.”

Esther gives him the harshest look yet, “You f**king deaf – I thought you f**king vampires had great f**king hearing. I said we are all entitled to a little privacy. Now, good evening Mr. Blackwater.”

Miyuki wanders over and pees on Blackwater’s steel-toed boot.

“Throwing me out so soon? Don’t you have questions, after accusing me of being so vague?”

Esther does not reply, having said enough, and looks down at the papers on the desk and begins to sort them.

Darien Blackwater kicks the animal, sending it flying across the room to slam into the wall.

Esther looks at the rodent and stands, “Not now, definitely. And I might suggest you leave on a matter of personal safety.”

Darien Blackwater stands. “I see it’s a bad time. Maybe anytime with her around is.” He was looking at Samantha Brook.

“Good evening Mr Blackwater. Tell Rhyaad we look forward to seeing him again when you talk to him.”

But before he can rise from his hip perch on the edge of Esther’s desk, Samantha Brook charges and tackles him, “B*****D!!”

Esther takes another swig of beer, seeing them struggling, “As I said. Personal safety.”

Darien Blackwater grabs Sam’s wrist and tells her too calmly. “Did you know I could snap you like a twig?”

“Do you know that dogs will be fucking your corpse when I’m done?” She spits on him and brings up her other hand underneath to his stomach.

“Miss Brook, you really should stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” The hand seems to hardly affect him.

Samantha Brook keeps striking at his stomach, rapidly, before a quick metallic swish is heard as the blade to her switchblade whips out.

Darien Blackwater puts both hands on her shoulders and suddenly shoves her, sending her flying to the ground to slide all the way into the wall. Fangs come out. “Do not try to attack me, Miss Brook.”

“Mr. Blackwater. Please do not provoke my co-worker, or I may be forced to use violence to throw you out of these premises” Esther says as she chambers a shell into the rifle she has taken from the wall just as he was shoving Samantha across the floor.

She has it aimed at his head.

Her hands steady.

He smiles.

“I was the one attacked, Miss Friedman. And unless you have that thing loaded with silver, it doesn’t much scare me.’

“It is f**king silver – a**hole – So—want to keep on f**king smiling?”

The smile is removed from his face – seeing in her eyes she will not hesitate for a moment – and is in fact struggling not to pull the trigger even now.

Samantha, “grrrrrrrrrrr RWAAAAAOOORRR”, scrambles up and charges him, swinging wildly!

“Really, you are the most jumpy people I’ve ever seen. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr Blackwater.” Esther says with the gun still aimed at his head.

Darien Blackwater looks at Samantha, and rather than just leaving, as he could, well aware she could not harm him, he turns instead and with a single punch, breaks her jaw and sends her flying to the floor again.

A silver shell whizzes past his ear and hits the doorframe, he turns quickly sensing the bullet was in fact silver. Esther cocks the rifle again.

“The next one is through your right f**king eye, and, I only f**king miss—when I want too”

Cue Music End of Episode