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Authors: Lara Parker
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moonlight made him curious. She was no longer smiling,
and her face was now twisted in a grimace of confusion. She
lifted her fi ngers to her eyes and pressed them there, then said in a shaking voice, “Please, Quentin, I don’t know where it is. I’ve
searched for it, looked everywhere. It seems to have disappeared.”
Even though Barnabas remembered Quentin’s volatile tem-
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perament, he was surprised at the depth of Quentin’s bitterness
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Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising
when he answered her. “Stupid woman! You are the last person
who saw it. If you didn’t smoke that infernal substance, you
might remember something! I left the painting in your care!
How can I make you understand?”
Hearing the word painting , Barnabas leaned into the glass
and overheard Antoinette say in a gentle voice, “I am so sorry,
Quentin. All I want is to make you happy again.”
Quentin turned abruptly and glared down at her. “Do you
honestly believe there is such a thing as happiness, Toni?” He
chuckled in his mirthless way, a sneer on his lips. “Happiness
does not exist.” He began to pace, his lanky frame agile within
his loose- fi tting clothes. A great shock of glossy black hair
fell heavy on his brow, and he settled in a chair lazily, glower-
ing at her with his deep- set eyes. “I had larger expectations than life has hitherto off ered me. And now, thanks to your meddling, the one gift I had has been taken from me.”
Antoinette was leaning over, and Barnabas could see that
she had in her hand the end of a small fl at cigarette. It was the
marijuana she smoked. She inhaled and walked unsteadily to
Quentin, off ering it to him.
“Here,” she said. “Try to get mellow. It’s not the end of the
world.”
“I have a conscience,” he said, ignoring her. “It goes to waste.
What does it count in the long illustrious life of Quentin Col-
lins, once a ghost and a tormentor of children, now threatened
with a horrible fate?”
“Take a hit,” she said, her voice shaking. “It will calm you.
Quentin, it’s only a painting—”
Lashing out, he smacked the small cigarette from her hand.
“A painting that controls my whole existence!” Th
en he looked
at her from under his shaggy brows. Still holding the goblet
with the gold rim, he seemed to sway a moment before, grimac-
ing, he crushed it, and the splintered shards sliced his fi ngers.
In a savage gesture, he threw the glass against the table and,
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Lara Parker
lurching off balance, he reached for her but missed her and
grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself, his head lowered
in a menacing scowl.
“Damn you, wench! You have no idea what you have
done!”
Antoinette turned again to the window and looked out into
the night, trembling and clearly distressed, and for an instant
something fl ickered in her eyes as though she had seen a move-
ment of some kind. Barnabas drew quickly into the shadows.
Th
en he saw Quentin standing behind her, his hands on her
shoulders, his long fi ngers curling around her upper arms. She
shrugged restlessly, as if to toss him off , but Quentin leaned over her, his black hair falling across his forehead, and he pressed his face against her braids. He murmured something that must have
been an apology, since her expression softened, and she closed
her eyes. As Barnabas watched, he thought he saw Quentin’s
fi ngers circle her neck, the bones protrude, and the fi ngernails
grow long and yellow. Quentin turned her to him and kissed
her, and then, his arm about her waist, led her to the fi re where
they lay side by side on the hearth.
Barnabas forced himself to remain quiet, but his body
trembled with rage. He despised himself in the role of a specta-
tor, but he could not tear himself away. He looked up at the
moon, risen now, and gleaming like a
and her face was now twisted in a grimace of confusion. She
lifted her fi ngers to her eyes and pressed them there, then said in a shaking voice, “Please, Quentin, I don’t know where it is. I’ve
searched for it, looked everywhere. It seems to have disappeared.”
Even though Barnabas remembered Quentin’s volatile tem-
-1—
perament, he was surprised at the depth of Quentin’s bitterness
0—
+1—
60
039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 60
3/15/13 7:44 PM
Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising
when he answered her. “Stupid woman! You are the last person
who saw it. If you didn’t smoke that infernal substance, you
might remember something! I left the painting in your care!
How can I make you understand?”
Hearing the word painting , Barnabas leaned into the glass
and overheard Antoinette say in a gentle voice, “I am so sorry,
Quentin. All I want is to make you happy again.”
Quentin turned abruptly and glared down at her. “Do you
honestly believe there is such a thing as happiness, Toni?” He
chuckled in his mirthless way, a sneer on his lips. “Happiness
does not exist.” He began to pace, his lanky frame agile within
his loose- fi tting clothes. A great shock of glossy black hair
fell heavy on his brow, and he settled in a chair lazily, glower-
ing at her with his deep- set eyes. “I had larger expectations than life has hitherto off ered me. And now, thanks to your meddling, the one gift I had has been taken from me.”
Antoinette was leaning over, and Barnabas could see that
she had in her hand the end of a small fl at cigarette. It was the
marijuana she smoked. She inhaled and walked unsteadily to
Quentin, off ering it to him.
“Here,” she said. “Try to get mellow. It’s not the end of the
world.”
“I have a conscience,” he said, ignoring her. “It goes to waste.
What does it count in the long illustrious life of Quentin Col-
lins, once a ghost and a tormentor of children, now threatened
with a horrible fate?”
“Take a hit,” she said, her voice shaking. “It will calm you.
Quentin, it’s only a painting—”
Lashing out, he smacked the small cigarette from her hand.
“A painting that controls my whole existence!” Th
en he looked
at her from under his shaggy brows. Still holding the goblet
with the gold rim, he seemed to sway a moment before, grimac-
ing, he crushed it, and the splintered shards sliced his fi ngers.
In a savage gesture, he threw the glass against the table and,
—-1
—0
—+1
61
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3/15/13 7:44 PM
Lara Parker
lurching off balance, he reached for her but missed her and
grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself, his head lowered
in a menacing scowl.
“Damn you, wench! You have no idea what you have
done!”
Antoinette turned again to the window and looked out into
the night, trembling and clearly distressed, and for an instant
something fl ickered in her eyes as though she had seen a move-
ment of some kind. Barnabas drew quickly into the shadows.
Th
en he saw Quentin standing behind her, his hands on her
shoulders, his long fi ngers curling around her upper arms. She
shrugged restlessly, as if to toss him off , but Quentin leaned over her, his black hair falling across his forehead, and he pressed his face against her braids. He murmured something that must have
been an apology, since her expression softened, and she closed
her eyes. As Barnabas watched, he thought he saw Quentin’s
fi ngers circle her neck, the bones protrude, and the fi ngernails
grow long and yellow. Quentin turned her to him and kissed
her, and then, his arm about her waist, led her to the fi re where
they lay side by side on the hearth.
Barnabas forced himself to remain quiet, but his body
trembled with rage. He despised himself in the role of a specta-
tor, but he could not tear himself away. He looked up at the
moon, risen now, and gleaming like a
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