Byron laughed.
“Why is that funny?” Jane asked him. “Don’t think it means I’ll come running to you.”
“Oh, I think I know better now,” said Byron. “Besides, I have a new distraction.”
“That’s another thing,” Jane said. “Why did you have to go and seduce Bryce?”
Byron held his hands up in protest. “That was entirely accidental,” he said. “I had no idea he was connected to you. It was a happy coincidence.”
“Not so happy for Kelly,” Jane snapped. “He’s very hurt. Oh, and don’t think I don’t know that the only way you could get Bryce was by glamoring him.”
Byron looked hurt. “Are you saying I’m losing my looks?”
“Unfortunately, no,” said Jane. “But I know those two are very much in love.”
“Yes, well, then it might amuse you to know that Bryce phoned me earlier today and told me in no uncertain terms that things are over.”
“See!” Jane said. “Serves you right.” Then something occurred to her. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“It’s a beautiful night,” said Byron.
“You’re hunting!” Jane accused.
“Not hunting,” said Byron. “Watching. For Charlotte.”
“You don’t think she’ll come back?” Jane said.
“No,” Byron said. “At least not for some time. But I don’t want to take any chances.”
“I think I can handle her myself if need be,” said Jane.
“Actually,” Byron said, “I don’t think you can.” His voice suddenly took on a serious tone. “Charlotte isn’t the only one we have to worry about.”
Jane looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“You know that throughout the years there have been vigilantes who have sought to eradicate our kind.”
Jane shuddered. She knew all too well the people to whom Byron was referring—well-known personages whose special skills had led them to be recruited as vampire hunters. One name in particular came to her, and instinctively her fangs descended as she recalled their last meeting—and the taste of the woman’s infamous coq au vin. “Of course I do,” she said.
“There has been renewed activity,” Byron told her, his voice taking on a worried tone. “Rumblings of a resurgence. This incident with Charlotte may have … repercussions. Particularly now that you’ve raised your profile.”
“Wonderful,” Jane sighed.
“It would be wise to be prepared for any eventuality,” Byron continued. “There are things we can do, Jane—things you can do—that you aren’t even aware of. You’ve barely tapped the possibilities.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jane said.
“You’ve never been taught,” said Byron. “You’ve spent so many years apart from your own kind that you don’t even know what you are.”
Jane looked into his face. He’s telling the truth, she thought.
“I can teach you,” Byron told her. “If you’ll let me.”
“I knew it,” Jane said. “For the last time, I am not going away with you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Byron replied. “I can stay here.”
“Here?” Jane repeated.
“Not here,” Byron said, nodding at the house. “But here in Brakeston.”
“Are you mad?” said Jane.
“Probably,” Byron said. “But it’s time I made things up to you, and I can start by showing you what you really are. Besides, I already have the house.”
Jasper, who had marked every bush in the yard, ran over to where they were standing. Byron bent to pet him, but Jasper growled. “He never did like me,” Byron said.
“He’s a good judge of character,” said Jane.
“I’ll go if you tell me to go,” said Byron. “I swear I will. But please consider my offer.”
Jane started to tell him to leave. Getting rid of him once and for all would make things much easier for her. But then she thought about what he was offering her. What kinds of things can I do? she wondered. Was there really more to being undead than just being undead?
“I’ll think about it,” she said quickly, before she could change her mind. “In the meantime, stay away from Lucy. I suppose you’ve figured out she isn’t really one of us.”
“I have,” said Byron. “But it was a good ploy.”
“Thank you,” Jane said. “But I mean it—stay away from her.”
“What if I promise not to turn her?” Byron asked. “I have to say, I’m rather fond of her. She has quite a spirit.”
“Don’t make me change my mind,” Jane threatened. “Now go. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Byron nodded good night and disappeared into the shadows. Jane herded Jasper back into the kitchen, where he stopped to get a drink. Jane continued on to the living room. Only when she saw Walter sitting there did she remember that she’d run away from what was certain to be bad news.
“That was a long pee,” Walter remarked.
“Wasn’t it?” said Jane. Her mind had gone fuzzy, and she couldn’t think straight. He’s going to dump me, she thought. She sat down and kept her hands in her lap, afraid to reach for Walter’s hand lest he pull away from her.
“As I was saying,” Walter said. He cleared his throat. “This is harder than I expected.”
“You don’t have to—” said Jane.
“Yes, I do,” Walter said. “It’s something I should have said a long time ago.”
Jane’s heart fluttered wildly. All of a sudden she felt not like a woman of 234 but like a girl of 18. All of her years of experience disappeared in an instant. Lifetimes no longer mattered. Walter was about to break her heart as if it were the very first time.
“I love you,” Walter said.
Jane stared at him. What did he just say? she asked herself.
“I know you don’t want to hear that,” said Walter. He was speaking quickly, stumbling over his words in an uncharacteristically anxious way. “I know I’m probably going to scare you off. But it’s true, Jane. I do love you. And if that frightens you, then I can accept—”
“I love you too,” said Jane, stopping him.
He looked at her for a long time. “You do?”
Jane nodded. “I do,” she repeated.
Walter opened his mouth, then closed it again. He repeated this several times.
“You’re looking a bit like a fish,” Jane teased.
“I’m afraid if I talk I’ll wake up,” said Walter.
Jane took his hand in hers. “You won’t wake up,” she said. “Unless, of course, you mean in my bed in the morning.”
Walter stood up, pulling Jane to her feet. He took her in his arms and kissed her for a long time. When he broke away he continued to hold her against him. She looked into his eyes, seeing in them everything she’d been longing for.
“Jane Fairfax,” Walter said, “are you propositioning me?”
“Yes, Walter Fletcher,” said Jane. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Walter kissed her again. “It’s about time,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the stairs.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Liz Scheier (for starting it), Caitlin Alexander (for finishing it), Mitchell Waters (for championing it), John Scognamiglio (for loaning me out), and Patrick Crowe and the Fur People (for everything else).
About the Author
Michael Thomas Ford is the author of numerous books, including the novels What We Remember, Suicide Notes, Changing Tides, Full Circle, Looking for It, and Last Summer. Visit him at www.michaelthomasford.com.