both the ladies (apart from Sam) and the gentlemen (particularly Orsino and Chumsley) of the party. Jane was used to this kind of response to Byron’s brooding good looks and flirtatious charm, but William was proving to be nearly his equal in the reactions he elicited from those around him.
Jane had to remind herself repeatedly to call Byron Brian. This was always difficult for her, and was made even more so by the current setting. She couldn’t see him in the villa without thinking of him as the great Lord Byron. But at least in front of those who didn’t know his true identity (meaning everyone save Jane and Lucy) he was Brian George, writer of romance novels.
“I’m sorry you all have to leave today,” Byron said to the assembled table. “If I’d known this was to be your last day, I might have come sooner.”
In fact, the breakfast they were eating was to be their last meal together. A bus was coming at ten o’clock to take them all to the airport, where they would board planes and return to their respective homes. Jane, Walter, Lucy, and Ben were scheduled to return to London for a few more days, but Jane had a feeling those plans were about to change.
She waited impatiently for a chance to speak to Byron alone.
She finally got it when, half an hour before the bus was to arrive, everyone scattered to their rooms to finish packing. Jane sent Lucy on a mission of distraction, telling her to request a tour of the villa’s smaller guest house from Walter, who she knew would be only too happy to talk about the various architectural features of the building.
Now, alone with Byron and William, Jane got down to business.
“Why are you here, and who is he really?” she asked.
“
“I’m sorry,” Jane apologized, smiling at William.
William nodded. “Not at all,” he said. “Byron always has been a bit maddening.”
“I told you, you have to call me Brian,” Byron said, putting his hand on William’s knee. He looked at Jane and winked, “Unless we’re in the bedroom. Then he calls me Daddy.”
“I believe it’s the other way around,” said William, raising an eyebrow. This gave him a rakish look that Jane found rather appealing.
“I’m guessing you’re a vampire,” she said.
“Very good,” Byron said. “I’m impressed.” He turned to William. “I told you she’s not terribly good at the whole being-undead thing.”
“It took me some time too,” William said kindly.
“Thank you,” said Jane. To Byron she said, “Now I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”
Byron sighed. “Fine, fine, fine,” he said. “I heard a rumor that you might be having a little trouble with Our Gloomy Friend.”
Jane was surprised. “Charlotte?” she said. “You mean it isn’t Joshua?”
“Joshua?” said Byron. “Why ever would you think it was Joshua? The man’s an imbecile. Very sweet, and an excellent kisser, but really rather stupid.”
“Charlotte?” Jane said again. “And who told you that?” she asked.
“Do you remember our trip to New York?” Byron said.
“Of course,” said Jane. She immediately pictured Solomon Grundy, remembered what day it was (Friday), and felt a pang of sadness that he would be dead on the morrow. “Why?”
Byron indicated William. “William’s sister happens to be Alice, Solomon’s wife.”
“But you said she’s not a vampire,” Jane reminded him.
“Darling, just because people are siblings it doesn’t mean they have to be the same type of creature,” said Byron. “Remember, most of us are made, not born. Anyway, Alice happened to mention to William that we had come in.”
“She’s an inveterate gossip,” William said.
“Which in this case is a good thing,” said Byron. “Because as it happens, William is friends with your husband.”
“Walter?” Jane said.
“No,” Byron said. “The other one.”
“Oh, him again,” Jane said. “How do you know—Never mind. Go on,” she told Byron.
“William happened to mention to Joshua that he’d had news of you,” Byron continued.
“Which explains how he knew I was in London,” Jane said, ticking that particular mystery off her list.
“And Joshua told William that he’d recently seen Our Gloomy Friend and your name had come up,” said Byron. “So when William told
“You think Joshua told Charlotte I was coming?” Jane said.
“I didn’t know it was a secret,” said William. “I’m very sorry.”
Jane waved a hand. “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she said. “You had no way of knowing.”
“So that’s why I’m here,” said Byron. “And from what I’ve heard, it’s a good thing I came.”
“What have you heard?” Jane asked, wondering whom he could possibly have spoken to.
“Well, about Miriam,” Byron answered. “I understand she’s gone missing.”
Jane nodded. “Suzu’s behind that,” she said. “She and Bergen—”
“Who?” said Byron.
“Suzu,” Jane said. “She’s a vampire. From Japan.”
“I’ve never heard of her,” Byron said. He looked at William. “Have you?”
William shook his head. “Not that I can recall.”
“And there are so few of us from that part of the world,” Byron said. He looked a Jane. “Are you sure she’s a vampire?”
“I’m not a complete imbecile,” Jane said. “Yes, she’s a vampire. She arranged for Miriam to be kidnapped. And she told me that if I don’t give her Crispin’s Needle she’ll kill her.”
“Crispin’s Needle?” said Byron. “Really? That old story?”
“I haven’t heard anyone speak of that in over a century,” William said.
“Well, I’d never heard of it at all,” said Jane. “It’s one of the many things you’ve never told me about,” she added, giving Byron a look of disappointment.
“Because it’s hardly worth mentioning,” Byron replied. “It doesn’t exist.” He paused. “You haven’t been looking for it, have you?” he asked Jane.
Jane shrugged. “Here and there,” she admitted. “I didn’t set out to, but once Gosebourne told me about it I thought it might help with my situation with Walter. And then I kept finding little clues here and there, so even though it seemed like a wild goose chase I let myself hope it might be true.”
“Gosebourne,” Byron said. “Now it all makes sense. You know that he and Our Gloomy Friend were lovers.”
Jane gasped. “No, I didn’t know that either. Apparently I don’t know anything.”
“She probably set the whole thing up,” William said. “She hoped you would find the Needle and save her the trouble.”
“That sounds like her,” Jane agreed. “But then what does Suzu have to do with any of this?”
“That I don’t know,” said Byron. “But we’ll find out. And we’ll find Miriam.”
“How?” Jane asked.
“You’re going to find Crispin’s Needle, of course,” Byron said.
“But you said it doesn’t—Oh, I see,” said Jane. “We’re going to lie. But I still don’t know how to contact Suzu.”
“Trust me, she’ll be in touch,” Byron said. “We just need to be ready for her when she comes.”
“How are we going to fake the Needle?” Jane asked.
“Questions, questions, questions,” Byron teased. “Why is the sky blue? Where do babies come from? Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
Jane glared at him.
“There’s a blacksmith shop in town,” said Byron. “We’ll have him make something more or less needlelike. After all, nobody knows what this thing looks like anyway.”
Jane could find no fault with this plan other than the fact that it all hinged on a million variables over which
