Jane Vows Vengeance

shape, and Jane guessed he wouldn’t miss the little bit of blood she was going to take from him.

She moved the backpack from the seat and placed it in the aisle. Then she took the seat beside the boy. Breathing deeply, she focused her mind so that in the event the boy woke up she would be prepared to glamor him. Then she leaned over as if she were asleep beside him, her face nuzzled in his neck.

His blood was delicious. This was not a thought she often had when feeding. It was an activity she loathed, and ordinarily she just wanted to get it over with. But the boy’s blood was undeniably pleasant, sweet and salty at the same time. Like taffy, Jane thought vaguely as she drank.

When she’d had enough, she retracted her fangs and sat up. Her headache had disappeared and her stomach was no longer aching. She sighed deeply and opened her eyes.

Suzu was standing in the aisle, not ten feet away, looking down at her. She was dressed in a black robe embroidered in cream with cranes, which caused her to look like a shadow dappled with moonlight. At first Jane, who couldn’t recall even having seen the woman since the opening night reception, thought she must be imagining it. But then Suzu blinked. Jane froze, her mind racing. How long had Suzu been there? How much had she seen? Was there blood on her face?

She thought quickly. How could she explain what she was doing there? Then, to make matters worse, the young man beside her stirred. He moaned and twisted his face toward her. Before she knew what she was doing, Jane kissed him passionately on the lips. The boy, slowly coming awake, kissed her back.

Jane pulled her mouth away and laughed lightly. “Oh, Esteban,” she said. “You’re so naughty.”

She pretended to see Suzu for the first time. Her hand flew to her mouth in feigned shock. “Suzu!” she said. “This … this … isn’t what it looks like.”

Suzu looked at the boy, who was making kissing movements with his lips as he sought out Jane’s mouth. Jane fended him off, pushing against his chest with her hands.

“Esteban! You wicked thing!” she said.

Suzu tipped her head. “Good night, Mrs. Fletcher,” she said and walked past.

Suzu’s use of what would have been Jane’s married name had she and Walter actually completed the ceremony jarred her. It would have been bad enough had Suzu thought Jane was cheating on her fiance; to be caught cheating on her husband was even worse.

“No,” she called after Suzu, trying to keep her voice low. “It’s not what you think.”

Suzu disappeared through the door into the next car, leaving Jane alone with the now half-awake boy. He was sitting up, mumbling and kissing the air. His eyes opened and, seeing Jane, he gave her a lopsided smile. “Who are you?” he asked. “And who’s Esteban?”

Jane focused her attention on him. “Go back to sleep,” she commanded. “And don’t remember any of this.”

The boy sank back against the window and began snoring. Jane got up, replaced the backpack on the seat beside him, and followed after Suzu. When she entered the next car, Suzu was nowhere to be seen. She’s certainly a speedy little thing, she thought, quickening her pace.

When she entered the sleeper car she saw a door to one of the compartments opening. Not knowing which room was Suzu’s, she waited to see if she would emerge. Instead, Chumsley exited. He turned around and spoke to someone inside the room.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said angrily.

“Your warning is duly noted,” a man’s voice replied. There was an Irish lilt to it, and Jane immediately thought of Ryan McGuinness.

The door shut and Chumsley turned around. Seeing Jane, he gave a start. “Look at us both up at this ungodly hour,” he said.

“It is quite late,” said Jane.

After an awkward silence of a few seconds Chumsley said, “Well, good night then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Jane said as Chumsley moved quickly past her. She watched him go to the other end of the sleeper and open a door there.

She’d forgotten all about Suzu. Now she found herself wondering what Chumsley had been doing in the compartment of his ex-wife’s lover. And what had Chumsley warned Ryan about?

Perhaps I’m not the only one with a secret, she thought.

Chapter 11

Thursday: Ireland

Fortunately for Jane, she was too busy rubbing Walter’s back and speaking to him in soothing tones to worry about what Suzu thought about their encounter the night before. Walter, for his part, was leaning over the railing on the upper deck of the Isle of Inishmore and heaving his breakfast into the choppy waters of St. George’s Channel.

The ferry was only forty-five minutes into its four-hour crossing between Pembroke, Wales, and Rosslare, Ireland. A strong winter storm was causing larger-than-usual waves, and despite the Inishmore’s impressive size the sea was moving her up and down like a toy boat.

Jane was doing her best to be nurturing, but the sound of Walter’s retching, not to mention the scent of vomit, made her feel a bit queasy herself. The scrambled eggs and rashers she’d consumed shortly before boarding were now protesting loudly. Matters were not helped by the fact that Walter was not alone among their party in his misery. Arranged along the rail at polite intervals, Genevieve, Orsino, Enid, and Sam were also delivering up to the gods of the sea offerings of barely digested breakfasts. The remaining guests were huddled in the downstairs lounge.

Brodie was one of the few unaffected by the rough crossing. Strolling along the deck, he sipped from a cup of coffee and whistled “Bollocky Bill the Sailor” in such a cheerful way that those he passed might have shoved him over the rail had they not been otherwise engaged. His gait remained leisurely and smooth, and whenever a swell sent the ferry lurching he corrected himself so that not a single drop of coffee escaped the cup.

“Fine weather we’re having,” he remarked to Jane. Looking down at Walter, whose head was between his arms as he waited for the next bout of nausea to hit, he said, “Don’t worry, mate. Once you’ve got it all out you’ll feel right as rain.”

“You’re handling it rather well,” said Jane as Walter made a choking sound.

“I come from pirate stock,” Brodie said. “Great-great-great-great-grandmother or some such was Auckland Annie. Might be missing a great in there somewhere,” he added, counting on the fingers of his left hand. “Any which way, she sailed with this captain and that captain, until one day the British captured the ship she was on and tossed her in the nick. That’s where she met Captain Brodie Banks. Handsome fellow. Went to the gallows not long after, but not before old Annie was in the pudding club. Couldn’t hang her in her condition, so they waited nine months until she popped out her little one, gave her a couple of minutes to name the boy, and then showed her the noose. That little boy was my great-great-great-grandfather Brodie Banks.”

Jane, fascinated by the story, forgot all about her own seasickness. “You made that up,” she said.

“God’s honest truth,” said Brodie. “There’s been a Brodie in the family ever since. Or an Olive if there’s no boy in a generation. My mother’s an Olive. That’s why I’m a Pittman and not a Banks.” He paused. “Pity, really. Banks is a much better pirate name.”

“Rawuuublahhh,” said Walter, bringing Jane’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“I see McGuinness has joined the party,” Brodie remarked.

Jane looked over to see Ryan running to the railing, where he positioned himself between Enid and Orsino. His red hair was a bright spot against the dirty gray sky as he leaned over and gagged.

“Serves the cheating bugger right,” said Brodie, chuckling. He looked at Jane. “Pity we can’t just give him a little help over the side the next time she rolls,” he said. “Let old St. George have him with his morning tea.”

Jane, only half listening to him, made a vague noise.