THE CURSE OF DARK SHADOWS
Round 6, Part 1With a flickering candleabra in one slim hand, Angélique descended the ancient steps toward the Collinwood basement. Still in her Cassandra Blair disguise, she wore a smug smile; certain that Cristoff had taken care of her enemy Fox Mulder forever. With any luck Cristoff would have changed him into one of the living dead.
Walking through the cobwebbed tunnels deep beneath the mansion, Angélique felt sure that victory was in hand. She just had to be sure that the reincarnation of Jamison duPrés was out of her way. Oh how she would comfort poor Alex and when the time was right, bring him under her spell once more. Angélique relished the thought.
She had defeated two birds with one stone. Fox Mulder would be dead, and Cristoff will have lost his bet. Angélique tried to supress a laugh but could not. With her free hand, she held it against her mouth. Her triumphant laughter echoed off the walls.
Finally she paused outside of the locked room. Cristoff had been very foolish to hide his coffin here. Did he really think she would not find it? Angélique reached to release the locking bar ... She gasped. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong.
Throwing the door open, Angélique hurried inside. "Cristoff? Cristoff?" she called as she sat the candleabra down on an old table.
She checked the modern wristwatch adorning her arm. It was just after sun down. Someone had set Fox Mulder free! But who...
"Of course, Alex," she whispered to herself. As it had happened centuries before, Spencer Collins had rescued the man he loved. "Oh, Spencer, you will regret your interference!"
Angélique, incensed, stalked toward the table. She picked up a rickety chair and slammed it to the floor. Already rotted, the wood snapped instantly to fragments. Selecting the sharpest piece, the witch moved toward Cristoff's coffin.
She could not bear the smugness and condescending glare from the vampire. She would be rid of him, then deal with her enemy.
Lifting the heavy lid, Angélique's piercing blue eyes looked upn the sleeping form of Cristoff. She remembered the boy with the sad eyes; the boy who had been her servant and begged for immorality.
"Long ago Cristoff could you have imagined this moment when you would be destroyed forever?"
She raised the stake directly above his heart. In that moment, Cristoff's dark eyes shot open and his face filled with fear.
"No, Angélique! No!!" he screamed, but it was far too late.
Angélique plunged the stake down with all of her strength. With a blood-curdling roar, Cristoff slumped back into the casket. Soon the vampire's body started to dissolve into ashes.
"I don't care who I have to destroy," Angélique vowed, "but Spencer Collins, you will be mine!"
*****
Upstairs in their bedroom, Mulder slipped out of the deeply sated arms of his lover. Beneath his closed lids his eyes danced feverishly. In the darkness he could hear the dying screams of a man. Mulder tried desperately to wake himself up, to wake from the beginnings of a nightmare, but he couldn't.
In the darkness of the room, an unearthly almost foggy yellow light appeared and Angélique stepped toward the bed. She was no longer dressed as Cassandra. In place of short black hair was long golden rivulets, and she now wore a flowing eighteenth-century gown of burnt orange.
"Fox Mulder, you will hear my voice," she began, "and you will know that the power to command you is mine." Angélique paused before him, where Mulder writhed beside the sleeping Alex. Only he could hear the witch's voice, which was low and hypnotic in his mind. "I have invoked all the powers of darkness," Angélique continued, "and you can not resist me. Hear me Fox Mulder, hear me now! It is time for my curse to be fulfilled!"
A silent whimper escaped Mulder's lips. He tried and tried to force the commanding voice from his mind. Every time he attempted to concentrate on something else, something solid, he felt himself drowning in a dark void.
Suddenly an image appeared in the center of the darkness. A beautiful young woman with blond hair and blazing ice blue eyes. She held her arms out for someone as she beckoned to them. A sheer, white gown billowed around her in a cold breeze.
From out of nowehere another figure appeared in the darkness. It was Alex!
Mulder wanted to cry out, warn him, anything to keep him away from the woman. He could only watch helplessly as Alex fell into her arms in a passionate embrace.
"He will never love you!" Angélique's voice tormented Mulder. "He is mine and he shall be mine forever!"
No! No! Mulder's mind screamed.
"You will leave this house," Angélique commanded. "You can never escape my curse! You will run and you will remember."
Mulder felt himself uncontrollably leaving the security of Alex's bed. Felt himself opening the bedroom door and racing down the shadowed hallway.
"Remember your past Jamison duPrés," Angélique's voice taunted. "You will remember your death and relive it; the most terrifying death of all."
Hot tears flowed down Mulder's cheeks. He could not fight her voice, her power over him. He stumbled down the great staircase in his flight from the house. His bare feet contacted with the cold floor of the hall. He turned and flung the huge foyer doors open.
Outside, a violent storm suddenly took shape. Huge black clouds rolled across the starry sky, obscuring a bright, full moon. A great gust of wind blasted through the mansion as Mulder ran and ran...
Standing over Alex's handsome sleeping form, Angélique threw back her head and laughed evilly. The aura surrounded her disappeared and she along with it.
*****
Alex twisted and turned beneath the sheets. Voices called and cried out in his dreaming mind. Visions of the past haunted and danced in a strange whirlwind, one that he desperately tried to make sense of.
"No, Jamison, no! Don't run away from me!"
He heard a voice very similar to his own shout in agony.
"I set a curse on you, Spencer Collins! You will never love and anyone who loves you will die!!"
A woman shrieked.
Then, a gun shot.
Alex sat bolt upright in bed, still shaking from the disturbing nocturnal images. He steadied his breathing and ran a hand through his damp hair.
"Fox," he whispered, expecting his lover to be by his side. "Fox!" he said, louder, upon finding him gone.
Alex slipped out of bed and felt for the light switch. A streak of lightning illuminated the bedroom and Alex inhaled quickly. For just a second he thought he saw the sad, worried face of Danielle Collins--the ghost who had warned him. His heart pumping furiously, Alex sensed something horrible.
Slipping on a T-shirt over his blue pyjamas bottoms, Alex hurried out into the hall. "Fox? Mulder, where are you?" he called. Where could he be? Why did he have this overwhelming sense of foreboding? Too many things had happened already for him to ignore his lover's absence.
Alex looked everywhere he could think of: the bathroom, the library, the study ... He raced down a hallway and hurried down the great staircase. He stopped halfway down at the sight of Virginia emerging from the hall leading to the kitchen.
"Ginny!" he called, moving toward her. "Ginny, have you seen Fox?"
She looked at him curiously. "No, I haven't seen him tonight," she answered.
"Wha-" Alex paused, noticing the hesitation in her eyes. "Alright, Ginny, what the hell's going on around here? Ghosts, strange dreams and all of it revolves around this Angélique!"
Alex walked into the large sitting-room and raised a hand to Angélique's portrait which seemed to blaze with life from the crackling lightning outside.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Virginia told him as she moved up behind him.
Alex whirled round and gripped the woman by her shoulders. "You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he accused. "Cassandra is Angélique. Now, I want you to tell me what you know."
Virginia stared into his feverish green eyes for several moments. She relaxed and looked directly into his face. "I lived in this house nearly two-hundred years ago," she said, speaking calmly. "Everything you're experiencing is from your previous life. I am living proof of it. You were a Collins."
Alex tuned out her raspy voice, recalling what the ghost of Danielle Collins had told him. He was the reincarnation of her brother Spencer Collins and he was in danger from the witch Angélique. He'd never gotten a chance to tell Fox...
"I was a part of everything that happened," Virginia continued, as Alex's hands slipped from her shoulders. She turned and smiled at the portrait of Angélique Collins. "Angélique loves us," she said, reverently. "She always has and she always will."
She seemed lost in time, remembering Angélique's voice coming to her one night so very long ago. "I have lost him," she'd said, "but I will have him again. You will help me Virginia."
Virginia snapped back to the present. "Everyone does not love my Angélique," she turned back to stare at Alex, "but you will learn."
Furious, Alex once again gripped the woman, almost shaking her. "Where is he, Ginny? Where is Fox?"
"There is no place for him here," Virginia replied, sternly. "You must come to accept that."
"No!" Alex shouted. "I love Fox! Now you tell me where he is!"
Virginia twisted from his grip and ran from the room.
"Ginny!" Alex made to move after her, but stopped in his tracks.
For standing in the doorway was the woman from the portrait, exactly as she appeared. The witch Angélique.
"No, Spencer," she told him, "she can not help you now."
"Angélique," he whispered, stunned.
Angélique smiled and glided into the room. "So now you know." She clasped her hands together. "Good, it makes things easier."
Blood boiling with anger, Alex clenched his fists. "What have you done with him?" he demanded.
"Simply put my curse into motion." She threw him a haughty look. "A curse you brought upon yourself, Spencer Collins, the night you betrayed me."
He wasn't sure whether it was due to Angélique's influence or his own repressed memories, but Alex Krycek was assaulted by the visions from his dreams. Visions, he finally accepted, of his previous life.
He saw himself as a young, wealthy man living in the newly built Collinwood mansion in 1797. The happiest moment of his life meeting the bewitchingly handsome Jamison duPrés from Martinique. Their love hampered and kept secret. The strange and terrifying happenings surrounding Collinwood, which unjustly sent his dear sister's governess to the gallows. Danielle, his precious baby sister, dying in his arms. And Angélique, the seemingly demure maid servant, tricking him into a loveless marriage which broke Jamison's heart.
Alex reeled as the images flooded through his mind. He gasped and cried out as visions of the saddest day in Spencer Collins' life hit him...
Jamison, tormented by Angélique's powers, ran across the storm-lashed estate toward Widows' Hill. Even now he could hear the Widows' wailing as Jamison jumped from the cliff to his death.
Alex could feel the tears stinging his eyes, but it wasn't enough to stop the memories...
Confronting Angélique of her crimes against him and the people he loved. Aiming a pistol and shooting her. The witch's last words...
The pain, the suffering he felt was overwhelming.
Alex gasped as reality reasserted itself. It was as if no time had passed at all. He brushed the tears from his cheeks and stared furiously at Angélique--a force so evil, so powerful, that her curse reached across the centuries to torment him.
So many things became clear to the former double agent in those moments. His tumultuous relationship with Mulder; how he'd been drawn to him from the start but always betrayed him even when he secretly loved him. It wasn't until they both returned to Collinwood that their love for one another was revealed.
"I-I remember," he stammered. "Why are you still doing this?"
"To show you that I still have all of my powers," Angélique replied, "but you needn't worry. I will save your precious Fox Mulder."
Alex felt as if he'd just been slapped. "What?"
"For a price," she added, silkily.
"What price?"
Angélique walked around him like a lion stalking its prey. "As I placed the curse over you, so I consigned myself to remain in Collinwood forever." She fixed him with her steely gaze. "I want you to stay here with me."
Alex eyed her carefully. "Why the hell would I do that?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, as if talking to an uncomprehending child. "So that we can be together. I only ask that you stay here with me. Are you willing to sacrifice yourself to save Fox Mulder?"
He could hear his own heart beat pounding in his ears. He would not let Angélique win this time, and he would not lose Fox.
"Yes, I am," he said.
Angélique smiled triumphantly. She had no intention of saving Fox Mulder. "You made a wise decision. One you should have made long ago."
Alex started to walk around the room, past a chaise lounge, a Louis IX chair, the fireplace. "It's a risk I have to take!" he exclaimed and with that, he bolted from the room, into the hall and out into the raging storm.
"Stop!" Angélique screamed. "Do you hear me?! Come back!" Enraged, she turned to peer icily out of the windows. "Spencer Collins, you WILL lose him forever!"
*****
Wind and rain whipping into his body, Mulder ran across the open ground of the estate. Rocks cut at his feet; his skin and clothing were already torn from tree limbs and brambles. Still, he ran on, unable to fight the powerful voice urging him on.
"Alex," he cried as the roaring of the sea reached his ears.
*****
"Fox?!" Alex called. "Fox, where are you?!"
The storm tore his voice away in the wind. His soul filled with dread, Alex ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the stable. If what he saw in his vision were true, Fox would be heading for Widows' Hill.
"No, no, I won't let you die!" he cried.
Throwing open the stable door, Alex found the black shape of Quentin stirring restlessly in his pen. Climbing onto the steed's back, the Russian dug in his heels and drove the horse out into the rain.
*****
Angélique stared into the night. It was only a matter of time now. Soon Fox Mulder would jump to his death just as his previous life had done centuries ago. She could already see his crumpled body lying at the bottom of the cliff. What death could be more fitting for the man Spencer loves?
This time things would be different. She would see to that. Spencer would come to her willingly.
"Yes, run! Run!" Angélique called to Mulder. "Death is the only way for you!"
*****
Quentin's hooves pounded in the mud. Alex leaned forward, searching the stormy night for his lover. He had to be close, he had to be!
The horse galloped over a hill. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and Alex caught Mulder's frame disappearing through the trees.
Again, his mind was assailed with the vision of Jamison duPrés running madly away from him, screaming, "No, Spencer!"
"Stop it! Stop it!" Alex screamed into the wind. He leaped down from Quentin's back and took off into the trees after his lover. Alex let the trees tear at his face as he raced to catch up with Mulder's fleeing form.
"No, Fox!" he begged. "Don't run away from me!"
The tragic events of 1797 were happening all over again. He had to stop this!
Mulder burst from the trees. Bufetted by the wind, he could see the edge of Widows' Hill ahead. The storm seemed to take on a life of its own as a ghostly wailing resounded all around him. In the back of his mind he recalled the legend of the Widows and how they called people to their deaths.
He was going to die! He couldn't stop his legs from moving, nor the insistent voice ordering him to run toward the edge.
"NO!" Alex screamed as he emerged from the trees. "Don't go there!" He ran on... He could hear Mulder crying, pleading with the powerful force to stop.
"Fox, listen to me!" shouted Alex, desperately. "Focus on my voice. Don't be afraid of me. I love you, Fox!"
As he reached the edge of the cliff, Mulder paused and looked down at the water angrily crashing against the jagged rocks below. 'Jump!' the voice told him. 'Jump! You must obey me! Jump!'
His foot dangled over the edge...
"Fox, stop! You are not Jamison duPrés, you're Fox Mulder!" Alex told him, carefully moving closer. "Remember, Fox, remember! You don't have to do this. Listen to me, and only me. Alex Krycek, the rat bastard, the rat bastard who loves you!"
Mulder gasped, feeling his heart thump painfully in his chest. With all the strength he could gather, he turned his head to look at Alex.
"Alex, what's happening?" Mulder felt his body go limp, like a marionette who's strings had been cut. He could feel himself falling, falling over the edge into the sea... High above, thunder rolled deeply.
"NO!!" Alex dashed forward and grabbed hold of Mulder's arm, pulling him back and into his arms. "Fox, oh Fox." He held his trembling lover, tenderly kissing his forehead, his eyes, and finally his lips.
"Alex," Mulder gasped, "I can't ... have to ... jump..." He looked up with tear-filled eyes. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
Alex looked back to the dark mansion sitting ominously atop the hill. He knew that Angélique would drive Mulder to his death. How could he stop her? How could he end this curse and save his lover? How?
A warm feeling suddenly burst through his body in the middle of the freezing rain. The wailing subsided to a low ebb and he could hear a sweet, faint voice on the wind.
The voice of Danielle Collins.
"There is only one way to break the curse that has tortured you and Jamison over the centuries. You must take a leap of faith together. Plunge into the darkness hand in hand, confident in your love for each other, that will be your salvation... only then, will you and Fox be able to live in peace."
Alex turned back and, with Fox still in his arms, looked at the raging sea. He now knew what they had to do. Taking a deep breath, he stared into Mulder's eyes.
"Fox, do you trust me?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Yes," Mulder replied, fighting the enormous urge to break from his grip and jump.
"Then take my hand," Alex gently told him.
Confused for a moment, Mulder nodded and slipped his trembling hand into Alex's strong grip.
"We have to do this together," Alex continued with determination. "Fox, I love you."
He took a step back and, holding tight to Mulder's hand, started to run...
*****
Within the walls of Collinwood, Angélique sensed what was happening and screamed, "NO!!"
*****
Hand-in-hand Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder...
lovers from the past, lovers of the present...
jumped from the edge of Widows' Hill.
*****
Angélique screamed and screamed in tormented agony. Flames burst all around her as if she were burning up from the inside. She reached out to hold the fire back, but it was unstoppable. With a blinding flare of light, she and the fire vanished from Collinwood.
*****
The first morning rays of sun chased away the shadows enveloping the great house. Just as suddenly as it had came, the storm was gone.
Far below the cliff of Widows' Hill, the waves lapped up on the warm, sandy shore. Two figures lay washed up on the beach, both wearing peaceful sleeping faces.
Mulder awoke to find himself pressed down into the sand, and with Alex's arm thrown protectively over him. With bleary eyes, he sat up and turned his lover over.
He was scared, really scared, having no memory of what occured last night. The only thing he remembered was he and Alex making love ... then everything was a blank. How the hell they'd ended up on the beach was a complete mystery.
"Alex, hey Alex," he said, shaking him gently.
"Fox," the other man whispered, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun high overhead. He sat up quickly and engulfed his lover in his arms. "Fox, we're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."
And Alex knew in his heart this was true. Angélique's curse was broken.
He kissed Mulder passionately, gently embracing his lover.
*****
I'll never forget my experiences in the great house of Collinwood, Mulder would later write. All the legends which had captured my imagination were true, and the most amazing part of it all was learning that both Alex and I were wrapped in the tapestry of the Collins family.
As Alex explained everything to me that morning, we were both surprised to find Scully waiting for us at the house. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her--I still call it worry--and she'd come all the way to Maine to find me. I still wish I had a picture of the expression on her face when she found Alex and I together. I think she's still getting used to the concept.
I love Alex with all my heart. He saved my life and broke a two-hundred-year old curse to prove it.
Packing our things, we never knew what happened to Virginia as both she and the portrait of Angélique Collins had seemingly disappeared. We left the house and all of its ghosts behind us, putting the dark shadows of Collinwood firmly in the distant past.
*****
The ancient house still sits above the sea on Widows' Hill. The grounds are now deserted, and the people of Collinsport keep well clear of the mansion. For they speak of a ghostly figure of a young woman floating through the deserted hallways...
The End.