Collinsport. The long storm light seems to have bated as Nicole Collins and Esther Friedman have returned to Collins Investigations. They await Professor Hallie Stokes, the niece of Professor T. E. Stokes who was once a friend and confidant of Nicole’s father: Barnabas Collins. They await her arrival to help complete the translation of the Journal of David ben Golde, in the hopes the later passages written in Norwegian will offer some clue as to how to break the contract of Stephen Báthory.

The night begins to draw near its end. It’s 4 am, and the storms have all finally scurried out to sea. Rain has become a slow drizzle.

Inside the main office of Collins Investigation Esther Friedman sits precariously on the edge of her wheeled chair, her face plastered against the wood and paper of her desk. As much as she had struggled to stay awake – watching the busy hand of Professor Hallie Stokes as her pen dashed across the blank printer paper, while the water stained brown leather journal was held open by the prim, straight-backed Professor’s left hand, as she continued her translation – Esther had felt her eyes growing heavier and heavier; her head nodding and dipping, until she had finally fallen asleep.

In her office, where she had excused herself, with the door closed, Nicole Collins sits now behind her father’s heavy, wooden desk, looking up at the figure of Captain Cocq, dressed in his fine black suit with its blood red sash. The chiaroscuro of De Nachtwacht seems to blend with that of her darken office. “As I said, I do wish to apologize for ringing you at such a late or actually an early hour – but seeing as how you are uniquely aware — yes, what?” She says into the receiver of the antique phone (Nicole being well aware that it takes a court order to tap a ‘land line’).

She frowns.

“No, I have not heard anything from him. In fact I have no idea where he is—and I am sorry to say, I am not disposed to discuss the gentleman at the moment.” Her voice filled with a frank coldness, “The reason I rang you up is that I am in need some information. It concerns someone I met in Providence, an Alison Drew.”

Professor Stokes flips back a few pages, checking something as she ran her finger down over the old, handwritten ink and aged paper, and then returns to the page she is translating. She looks up briefly to watch the sleeping Esther Friedman. The journal was her grandfather’s – and from what the professor had read, so far (including the Hebrew, which neither woman knew she could read as well) it certainly indicated that the threat to the sleeping woman was very real.

She was well aware that on more than one occasion her Uncle Timothy had risked his life for the Collins family – in particular Nicole Collins’ father – and she strongly suspected he had finally succumbed to the death he had been so deft at cheating on far too many occasions, owing to some secret association with the daughter. Although, she also suspected that it may have also had something to do with his unrequited affections for Dr. Julia Hoffman that he was forever ready to risk all at a moments notice. When Dr, Hoffman called, Uncle Timothy left.

“Drew. Yes. Alison Drew. She was a young prostitute I met in Woonsocket actually. Although, she was originally from Providence. Yes—well, that is, of course, another story. But—you see, I have received some rather conflicting information regarding her – health.” Nicole says. “Dr. Sabine told me that she had met an rather tragic demise, and yet, if I cam correct she is here in Collinsport. Yes. Rather. And so you see, what I need is some confirmation, one-way or the other. Oh, I really? Here in Collinsport? Frid. F-R-I-D. Detective Frid. Yes, well. Thank you.”

Hallie Stokes looks up to watch now as Esther seems to be slightly rocking her chair back in her sleep.

“And if I haven’t said it—it is so good to hear your voice. I do hope to being seeing you shortly – and do, take care of yourself. Good morning.” And Nikki hangs up the phone and rises from her desk.

She opens the office door to find Professor Stokes busy writing and Esther asleep, having collapsed upon her desk.

Nikki smiles at over to Professor Stokes, “She is exhausted.”

“That or one to many lagers,” the Professor replies not looking up from the page she is translating.

Suddenly the chair rocks too far back, and Esther falls on the ground awakening with a start, ”Gah!”

The Professor looks up over the edge of her glasses, “I am leaning towards the latter.”

“Esther?” Nikki says taking a quick step toward her as Esther grabs her desk and uses it to stand up.

She puts out a reassuring hand, “I’m alright!” A document is stuck to her cheek and she peels it away, while dusting herself off. She sits down as if nothing happened

“You need to get some rest.”

“You think?”

Nikki saunters around Esther’s desk and takes a seat near the professor, “Have you found anything of interest?”

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“Well it seems he was definitely being pursued, or at least that’s how it seemed to him.” The professor says and pushes some translated pages over toward Nicole Collins, “He also had a rather strong fixation on a monks description of vampires.”

“Ah, yes, the two monks.” Nikki nods as she reaches for the pages.

“How far did you get?” Esther asks, straightening up her desk.

“Oh, just about all of it.”

“All of it?” She turns to look at a clock.

“Just have the last half of the last page—and I shall be finished.”

“Of interest,” Nikki says, “Is the monastery in Borgund and the book Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae, is it mentioned again later in the journal.”

“Yes.”

Nikki looks over to her, “Is there any mention of wards against Vampires?”

The professor stops writing and looks up over the edge of her glasses, “You mean other than the standard crucifix and holy water, and sharp sticks? Yes, I believe so. Latin to Norwegian, to English muddles it a bit, but that does correlate in what seems to be a small trinket his sweetheart gave him.”

“Yes?” Nikki turns with renewed interest. “She called in a ‘Yr’ rune.”

Professor Hallie Stokes nods.

“But does it have any more effect that say a cross—because they only work based on the belief system of the vampire and the person using it as a ward, as I understand it.” Nikki says, and then looks up from the page she is looking at, “Or so I have heard, of course.”

“Er . . .” Esther reaches over, “May I” she asks and the professor nods as she picks up the original Journal lying in front of the professor and flips to a page with a small drawing on it. “This thing?”

“Yes.” The professor nods, “An ‘Yr” rune. But he doesn’t really mention it again. So I can’t speak to its efficacy with any real authority.”

Nikki looks across the desk at Esther, “Did you ever see it Esther, when you were a child? Did he ever wear it?”

“I only rarely met him. He died when I was too young to really know him.” Esther says shaking her head.

“It was not in the safe.” Nikki says thoughtfully.

“And I doubt you met him again after that – “ Professor Stokes remarks absentmindedly reworking a sentence from the last paragraph.

“After what?” Esther asks with a frown, “His death?”

“Who died?” The professor looks up as if she were unaware she had said anything.

Nikki looks up from the page at Esther thoughtfully.

Esther looks over at her confused, and then rubs her eyes and yawns.

“You mean her grandfather?” Nikki asks rather off-handedly.

Esther waves a hand in the air, “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Was there any more mention of this Subsidium whatever?”

“Yes.” Professor Stokes says and puts down her pen, finished. “There were two copies, one in Norwegian and one in Latin.”

“I can not help but get the feeling that Mr. Rasmussen seems to know something – and others, it is almost as if some of the people around him know more about what is going on . . . ” Nikki says reading a translated page. “Professor—are you sure this is right!” She suddenly asks, looking over at Esther.

An annoyed expression crosses Stokes’ face, “Of course it is.”

“The 21 January entry. Am I correct in reading that this thief had both the original and the copy before he was spotted, and then dropped the original in panic?”

“I believe I know my Norwegian Miss Collins.”

“Because it says, here, just above . . . that the Norwegian Copy had been stolen in the night.”

“What are you getting at Nik?” Esther asks.

“It means that the Norwegian copy may still exist.” Nikki says, “Since we know the original was destroyed when the Germans bombed the monastery in Borgund –it has always been assumed that the Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae was forever lost. But, according to this a copy, a Norwegian translation survived the bombing. Carried away by a thief long before the German bombing raid”

“So who stole it, Nik? Does it say?”

“No—it doesn’t.” Nikki tells her. ‘ It just says, that . . .” and she reads the translation, “I tried to read Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae again, only to find out that the Norwegian Copy had been stolen in the night. The thief was also trying to make off with the original, when he was spotted and the book was dropped in panic. Because of this, they have been keeping the book under tight lock and key, refusing to let anyone see it”

“Who could it have been?” Esther ponders aloud.

“An idiot it would seem.” The professor says sitting back and crossing her arms.

Nikki looks at her, “Why would you say that Professor?”

“The Norwegian copy would have no real value until after the original was destroyed.”

“Well they obviously intended to take both.” Esther said.

The professor shakes her head, “Well, next to no value. So why take the copy and not the original. Why not drop the copy and grab the real text?? Why leave it behind?”

“Unless—” Nikki begins.

“There is something different about the copy?” The professor says.

“Perhaps something added.” Nikki muses.

“When was this?” Esther asks.

“The 21st of January 1940.” Nikki answers as she looks at the professor, “Or so the journal is dated.”

“More importantly, why even take the time to steal the copy and not just take the original to begin with.” Professor Stokes thinks aloud.

“Do we know who translated the Latin version into Norwegian?” Nikki wonders.

“It is not mentioned.” The professor says with a slight shake of her head. “Until this journal I don’t think anyone was ever aware that there was a copy in existence.”

Nikki continues to scan the translation, “Oh God, it looks like Casimir and Stanislaw do finally show up, so they had not given up their search for him.”

Esther picks up a sheet that Nikki has placed on her desk after having read it, and looks at the neat handwriting, “And what about this Berte Olsen? My grandmother never mentioned her. I wonder if Grandpa told her about her.”

“So he was being pursued?” The professor now asks to confirm what she already knows.

“Yes, from Poland, agents I think of this person called Mr. Jagiellon.” Nikki informs her.

“We are sure it’s not just in his head?”

“Well,” Nikki raises a brow, “It appears that others see these agents as well, and they do try and protect him.”

“Or so he says.” The professor replies evenly.

Nikki suddenly sits up and places the page on the desk before her.

It is Professor Stokes’s turn to arch a brow, “Yes?”

“What? What does this mean?”

Esther reaches over and takes the page from Nikki and peers at the page.

“What does what mean?” Professor Stokes asks.

“Remember blood attracts blood, like magnet to magnet.” Nicole Collins reads, and then looks over at Esther. Professor Stokes detecting the look between them, Nikki continues, “I have absolutely no idea what that could possibly mean?”

“Perhaps,” Professor Stokes says, “It is like a blood compass.”

Nikki looks at her, “A Blood Compass? Could you explain Professor?”

“Some mythologies mention necromancers and wizards creating a blood compass so that their subjects would always be able to find them or vice versa.”

“So, for example, is it possible that for the sake of this discussion,” Nikki asks, “If someone’s family happened to have been involved with these forces, then they could have created a Blood Compass in order to follow them – or any one of their descendants?”

“I won’t set a limit on magical abilities, but most mythologies had the compass as a physical item with a drop or two of blood in it.” Professor Stokes replies, “Now it is possible that they took your grandfathers blood and made one to track your family.”

She watches now as Esther Friedman gets up from her chair and starts to pace.

“Professor, in your studies, have you come across any reports of . . . let’s say a family that makes a blood contract with a supernatural entity—so that years later, maybe even centuries later, they still hold others to the original contract?”

“There are many allusions to signing contracts or books in one’s own blood – yes.”

“Can these contracts be nullified?”

“Depends on the terms of the contract. I have read of a Romanian family who made a contract that held to their family for over 200 years.”

Nikki narrows her eyes, “But they can be broken?”

“If the contract provides a loophole, yes, you can exploit that. If its one of blood, you can try the reasoning that the current generations blood is now so mixed and diluted to continue to qualify.” The professor says and flattens out her skirt with her left hand, “Or, you could fight. Fight till the point that whoever owns the contract no longer thinks it is worth it to continue to try and adhere to the terms anymore.”

Nikki nods, “Right—make the price too high to pay to continue to press the issue.”

“However a mortal woman . . . against a vampire family of royal blood. . .” Professor Stokes begins and then let’s her voice trail off as she watches now as Esther seems to have been struck by an idea and is searching through the mess that covers her desk.

“It is nothing against your hunting skills Esther, but I don’t think that solution works for you.”

Esther stops and looks at her, “What? Who said anything about anything about vampires and me?”

“I would say it’s rather obvious –I just translated the book. And read the Hebrew section also.”

Esther stands looking at her for a long moment, and then begins to rummage through her desk.

Nikki turns now to the professor, “Suppose you had a friend, Professor Stokes, a very good friend – your best friend. And she was – threatened by this ancient contract – enforced slavery, and God only knows what else . . . what lengths would you go to in order to save them?”

Professor Stokes looks at her in earnest, “I would say any length possible I suppose, but I haven’t had a friend that close in a while.”

Esther mutters to herself, “Do we even. . .”

Nikki nods, “How much collateral damage would be acceptable, if you had such a friend?”

Esther looks up, waves her hand in dismissal and says, “Nik, let’s try the loophole first before we start talking collateral damage, eh?”

The professor looks to Nicole, “If you have to ask, I’d say you weren’t willing to do all that is necessary.”

“The world might not be the same.” And the professor takes note not only of the oddity of the sentence but the coldness of the voice.

“Ok. ok. Are we even still talking in hypothetical?” Esther tries now to stop Nik from going on, fearing that Nikki might, for her sake, actually do something—something very, very wrong, “Lets focus on one thing at a time. The journal.”

Nikki turns her gaze to Esther, “Yes, that is our hope, that there is a clue in here somewhere.”

“What do you think the chances are of Berte Olsen still being alive?”

“About the same as any other 90 something year old being alive I suppose.” Professor Hallie Stokes says with a smile. “If she survived the war, from the Journal, it seems he left her behind.”

“How does it end?” Esther asks, looking at the pages in Nikki’s hands.

“With him leaving,” the professor tells her, “And an old tarot card.

Nikki looks over at her, “A Tarot Card? Which one?”

“Yeah, I saw that.” Esther nods as she reaches over and flips the Journal over to the back cover and from a small slit cut between the back cover page and the binding she pulls out an old tarot card. She places it down in front of Nikki.

“The Hermit,” she says.

“Fitting I would suppose.” Professor Stokes says softly. “Of course by an extended interpretation, it could mean your grandfather could have failed at progeneration.”

Nikki’s long, slender fingers reach over and pick up the card, “He carries the Lantern of Truth.” She says to herself.

“Failed at what?” Esther sits down once more.

“Failed at sex.” The professor explains.

“Well, I’m here, so obviously not.”

Professor Stokes arches a brow, “En vitro methods have been practiced for a good long while . . . “

“But my Grandmother was not this Berte Olsen.”

“ . . . Or, he wasn’t really your grandfather.”

“By logic I’m going to assume that he managed to do at least three things after the events of his journal. One, he survived. Two, he moved to America, and three, he married my grandmother.”

“Traditional marriage or common law?” The professor asks.

Esther gives her a sharp look.

“The Hermit. A mentor. Someone of wisdom, with the light of truth. What if the Hermit is not Esther’s ancestor? What if it is Mr. Mr. Rasmussen?”

“Look, back off about my grandpa’s love life, ok? It’s starting to get a bit creepy.” Esther tells her and then looks over at Nikki, “Who is this Rasmussen anyway?”

“Very well, then lets cross out two possible loopholes.” The professor says by way of explaining that she was trying to help rather than disparage her grandfather.

Nikki hands over the newly translated pages, “He seems to have taken a interest in your grandfather, and he seems to know more than he is telling, he seems to know about your grandfather’s past. He seems to know that something is following him.”

Esther looks at the last few pages in the original. “What are these two entries? The long, long paragraphs of text?”

“They are translations given to your grandfather of pages from the Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae,” Professor Stokes answers, “They concern a Haakon the Good, who came to a village that was under the dominion of Vrykolakas. It relates a battle he undertook against them in order to save the village. There are two versions, one each by the monks who wrote the book.”

Meanwhile, Nikki having taken up the Journal flips to a page and then finds the corresponding translation, “I mean here: in the Journal your grandfather says, “he said gruffly to me that I had bad spirits following me. I tried to get him to elaborate, but he just turned and walked away. Could this man know more about the supernatural? ”

Esther looks at her.

“And here,” Nikki takes the pages the professor has translated and reads, “You are being followed by a force which knows you better than you know yourself. Use this to your advantage.”

“A force which knows you better than you know yourself?” Esther says softly.

“He then explains about blood attracting blood,” Nikki continues, “The more I read, the more this Mr. Mr. Rasmussen seems to be far too cryptic.” She then extracts a page she has kept aside, “And then of all of the journal this entry confuses me the most.”

Esther cannot keep from yawning, “Yeah?”

Nikki reads now from the page:

“You seem discontent my boy. I have put you and your family in the lap of luxury and yet from you, I see only contempt for me. The oracle has foreseen great things coming from you. You should be proud. She tells me that you personally will influence the future of this great nation, and that your actions will lead to great change. And so I am placing my two best men to watch over and protect you. You must know Mr. Stanislaw and Mr. Casimir. They are to watch over and make sure nothing bad happens to you, or that you do nothing stupid.

“Oh, that, that’s from his dream.” Esther waves at Nikki, “That didn’t really happen.”

“But if Mr. Jagiellon, is whom I think he is, then had has the power to project that dream. The question is, did he?”

Esther sits blinking at her, she is so tired.

Nikki sighs, “I feel like your grandfather when he says, “so many questions.”

“Kinda wish he was alive. Then we could ask him ourselves.”

Nikki puts the page down, “Well, my mother has contacts in Europe, perhaps I can get her to try and see if any of these people mentioned in the Journal are still alive.”

“Anyway, I’ll read this more thoroughly tomorrow. It’s,” and she looks to the clock, ‘Oy!”

“Oh, Miss Stokes,” Nikki now says aware of the time, “I am so sorry to have kept you up this late. But I do so want to thank you for coming out on such a horrible night in order to help us.”

“It’s no trouble Miss Collins, helps with the jetlag.”

“Yes, thank you. You’ve been a . . .” Esther yawns, “a huge help.”

Professor Stokes rises setting the papers down.

Esther rises and holds out a hand.

The professor takes it and shakes it gingerly.

Nikki rises to offer Professor Stokes her hand, “And if it would not be very awkward for you, I would like for us to meet again and talk about your Uncle, as I do so miss him terribly.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she says and shakes Nicole Collins’ hand much more firmly, “Perhaps we could talk about his trip to Amsterdam.”

Nikki smiles, aware that she has mentioned Amsterdam before, “Please do be careful heading back to Collinwood, it is late and the roads are very steep heading up to the mansion.”

Esther takes one of the chairs from the front of her desk, and moves it closer to the fire.

“I will be fine,” the professor smiles and heads for the door.

“Good night Professor.”

“Good night.” And Professor Stokes opens the door and disappears into the morning.

Nikki is aware that dawn is soon approaching as she closes the door. She turns now to look at Esther sitting near the fire.

Esther takes off her jacket, and wears it like a blanket; “I’m just going to sleep here tonight Nik. If ya don’t mind,” She can’t stop yawning, “I’d rather not risk going on out on a night like tonight.”

Nikki reaches down and helps place the jacket around her, and places a hand on her shoulder, “Rest Esther. We will figure this out. I just wish I knew what has happened to Sam.”

Esther nods, closes her eyes, and listens to the crackle of the fire, and the rain drops against the windowpanes.

Nikki stands and watches the flames lick up the sides of the logs and sighs – she needs a drink.

Cue Music End of Episode