“I know what you meant,” Jane said, leaning against her for a moment. She was quiet as she looked over at the figure of Apollonia ascending. “I could grow old with Walter,” she said softly.
“Did you guys see the rose window behind the altar?” Ben appeared beside them.
“No,” Lucy said. “Why? Is it as weird as these are?”
“See for yourself,” said Ben.
Jane and Lucy followed him to the center aisle of the nave. Behind the altar the rose window hovered like a full moon. When they’d entered the church the light had not been strong enough to illuminate it. Now sunlight poured through the glass, and when Jane saw the image depicted there, she gasped.
A large heart occupied the center of the window. Piercing it was a long, thin needle very much like the one in the scene from the seventh window. The tip of the needle protruded from the bottom of the heart, a single drop of blood hanging down from it. Rays of light emanated from all around the heart, filling the window.
“It’s beautiful,” Jane said.
“The pierced heart of St. Apollonia the Blessed,” said Clare, who had come up behind them. “There’s only one other window like it in the world.”
“Where?” Jane and Lucy asked simultaneously.
“France,” Clare said. “Paris, to be exact. In a private chapel in a house that once belonged to a courtesan named Eloise Babineaux.”
“You don’t happen to have the address, do you?” Jane asked.
Clare nodded. “I do,” she said. “I wrote an article about the windows last year and corresponded a bit with the current owner of the house. But may I ask why you’re so interested in the window?”
Jane thought quickly. “I’m very interested in religious iconography,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” She hesitated a moment before asking her next question. “You mentioned that you have some of Apollonia’s teeth,” she said. “I don’t suppose anyone knows what became of the spike they used to kill her?”
“Not that I know of,” Clare answered. “But it’s funny you should mention that. Several years ago three men came here and asked that very same question. No one else ever has.”
“Three men?” said Lucy. “Did they say who they were?”
Clare shook her head. “They didn’t say much at all. Just that they were compiling information about various churches. For a book, maybe. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about them until just now, when you asked about the spike.” She paused. “Oh, I do remember one thing. They kept referring to the spike as a needle. In fact, they corrected me when I called it a spike. It reminded me of when my teachers used to correct my grammar.”
“Teachers,” Lucy said, looking at Jane.
“Or librarians,” Jane said.
“That’s it,” said Clare. “Librarians. They reminded me of fussy old librarians. I kept expecting them to shush me.” She laughed.
“Did you tell them about Eloise Babineaux?” Jane asked.
“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I did,” said Clare. “In fact, I’m sure I didn’t. And since we’re talking about it I’m remembering more. They weren’t just fussy, they were … spooky. I can’t think of any other word to describe it. I was glad when they left.”
“Well, thank you for giving
“Of course,” said Clare. “Oh. Right. I’ll just go get that.”
She scurried off to the house, leaving Jane and Lucy to keep looking at the rose window. Ben, having grown bored with the whole thing, had wandered outside.
“It must have been the Tedious Three,” Lucy said.
“They certainly fit the description,” Jane agreed.
“Eloise Babineaux’s house is in Paris,” said Lucy. “When do we get to Paris?”
“Sunday, I believe.”
Lucy looked at the glowing heart, then at Jane. “Hopefully whoever lives in Eloise’s house will be accepting visitors.”
Chapter 10
Wednesday: On a Train to Wales
“Trains are sexy, don’t you think?” Walter sat on the edge of the mattress covering the lower of the compartment’s bunk beds. “Except for the sleeping arrangements, that is.”
Jane, busy flossing her teeth to remove a bit of mutton stuck there from dinner, mumbled a reply. Despite having eaten, she was still famished, the food having done nothing to ease her more sinister hunger. She hadn’t had an opportunity to feed on any of the locals at the pub, and she was running out of time. If she didn’t get blood, and soon, there was going to be a problem. It was at times like these that she wished she weren’t so conscientious about not feeding on her friends and loved ones. It would make things much easier for her. But one has to have principles, she reminded herself.
Walter was in a very good mood, which was a relief. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the tour of Pitstone Vicarage, as well as the meal taken at the local pub before boarding the overnight train bound for Pembroke. He’d had several pints before and during dinner and, as a result, was more gregarious than usual. Jane wished he would shut up, as his incessant chattering was making her headache worse.
“Oh, and you should have seen the look Enid gave Chumsley when he corrected her about the style of the moldings in the drawing room,” he said. “I thought for sure she was going to start a fire with her mind. You know, like that girl in the Stephen King book.”
“Carrie or Charlie?” Jane asked, inspecting her teeth in the mirror. She let her fangs click into place momentarily and ran the floss between them.
“What?” said Walter.
“Stephen King wrote two books about a girl who could start fires with her mind,” Jane said. “
“Oh,” said Walter. “Um, well, I guess it doesn’t really matter which one, does it?”
Jane dropped the soiled floss into the trash can beneath the compartment’s tiny sink. “I suppose not,” she said.
Walter reclined on the bed, his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles. “I love you very much,” he said. “I hope you know that.”
Jane turned and looked at him. “Of course I do,” she said, puzzled by the abrupt shift in the tone of the conversation.
“Good,” Walter said. “Sometimes I think I don’t tell you often enough.”
Immediately Jane felt guilty for wishing he would be quiet. If anyone should be apologizing, she thought, it should be she. She was the one who had failed to mention that she had a husband. She was the one who had turned Walter down time after time for years before agreeing to go out with him. She was the one who still hadn’t mentioned the minor detail of her being immortal.
She went and sat beside him on the bunk. There really was very little room, and Walter had to turn sideways to accommodate her. It was an awkward position for both of them, but Jane made the best of it.
“I love you too,” she said. “I know the past few days have been just slightly peculiar, but I assure you I never intentionally kept Joshua from you.”
Walter smiled. “Eighteen months ago I would have thought you were lying through your teeth,” he said. “But I know you well enough now to know that you don’t exactly think like other women.”
“I really don’t,” Jane agreed.
“Not that I don’t think it’s odd that his name never came up,” Walter continued. “But I don’t think you were deliberately trying to keep him a secret.”
“I don’t think like other women?” said Jane.
“Absolutely not,” Walter answered.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Jane told him.
