Jane Bites Back

it up in its talons.

—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript

“How old are you exactly?” Lucy asked Jane.

“Old enough not to answer that question,” Jane said. She was making room in the hallway closet and was discovering that she had far too many coats and scarves.

“Okay,” said Lucy. “But are we talking old enough to have partied with the Beatles, or old enough to have partied with Mozart?”

“We can discuss that another time,” Jane said.

She still had not given Lucy the details about her identity, and hadn’t decided if she ever would. It was bad enough that she’d said anything at all. Despite Lucy’s surprising willingness to believe Jane’s story, Jane was regretting having said anything Whatever was I thinking? she asked herself as she removed three umbrellas from the closet.

She blamed Byron. If he hadn’t seduced her, she would have had a clear head. Worse, she had given in to him based on his lies. He’d already revealed himself to Lucy. In more ways than one, I’m sure, Jane thought. What a horrid man.

But what was done was done. Now the only thing to do about it was to try to undo Byron’s plans. And Jane had come up with something she thought just might do the trick.

“He should be here any minute,” she told Lucy. “Are you ready?”

Lucy nodded. “I think so,” she replied.

Jane breathed deeply. “Good,” she said. “You stay in here until it’s time to come out.”

“How will I know?” Lucy asked.

“Trust me,” said Jane. “You’ll know.”

The doorbell rang, and Jane put her finger to her lips. “Inside,” she whispered, pushing Lucy into the closet and arranging the coats as best she could to conceal the girl. “Oh, and don’t forget these.” She pressed something into Lucy’s hand.

Lucy nodded as Jane shut the door. Jane checked her appearance in the hallway mirror, then went to greet Byron. When she opened the door, he gave her his most charming smile.

“Good evening,” he said in a voice that came straight out of a Bela Lugosi movie.

“Stop it,” said Jane. “That joke hasn’t been funny for decades.”

Byron stepped inside. “Personally, I find it’s quite a hit with the ladies,” he said.

“Calling the women you associate with ladies is stretching the definition a bit, don’t you think?” said Jane.

Byron laughed. “You’re in a mood tonight,” he said. “What’s brought this on?”

“What do you think?” said Jane. “I’ve had a headache all day.”

“Ah,” Byron replied. “Yes. I’m sorry about that. Has it really been that long since you’ve been with one of our kind?”

“You were the last,” Jane told him. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Really?” said Byron. “How extraordinary. Have you really not associated with any of our people in all these years?”

“Not in that way,” Jane said. “And in general, no. I did for the first fifty years or so, but I’m afraid I find most of them rather tiring.”

“And humans aren’t?”

“We are human,” said Jane. “Or at least we were.”

“True,” Byron agreed. “But not anymore. I am not now that which I have been.”

“You really do think a great deal of your own work, don’t you?” said Jane.

“I think in this instance the critics would agree with me,” he replied. “As I recall, Childe Harold was a favorite of yours as well.”

Jane took a seat on the couch. “Yes,” she said. “Well, at any rate, now we’re very old humans. Please, sit down.”

Byron sat on the other end of the couch. He was regarding Jane warily. “Why did you ask me here?”

Jane placed her hands in her lap. “I’ve been thinking,” she said carefully. “About your … offer.”

Byron lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I think I’ve come up with a solution,” she said.

Byron said nothing for a minute. He kept his eyes on Jane. She forced herself to meet his gaze, not blinking. “Have you?” Byron said finally

“As you know, I’ve told Walter about myself.”

Byron nodded. “So it appears,” he said.

Jane hesitated. Much of her plan hinged on whether or not Byron believed the lie she was about to tell. “He’s agreed to share me with you,” she said.

“Has he?” Byron said, sounding genuinely surprised. “And why would he agree to such a thing?”

“Because he loves me,” said Jane. “He would rather share me than lose me completely.”

Byron shifted in his seat. He’s buying it, Jane thought. A fire of hope sparked in her.

“I must say I’m slightly disappointed,” said Byron. “I’d expected a bit more of a fight from him. Trying to put a stake through my heart or whatnot. This is … unexpected.”

“I was surprised as well,” said Jane. “But it was his idea, not mine.”

Byron’s nose twitched. “And just how would this arrangement work?” he asked.

“I suppose there are several options,” said Jane. “Alternate nights. Every other weekend. Or the three of us could share a bed.”

Byron looked shocked. “Share a bed?” he said.

“Yes,” said Jane. “Walter appears willing, and after all, you’ve been known to take a man or two into yours.”

Byron looked away. “I knew I should have burned those letters,” he said.

“It’s too late now,” Jane said gently. “They even mention them in your Wikipedia entry. Besides, no one cares about that anymore.”

“I don’t know,” Byron said, sounding like a petulant child. “I don’t think I want to share. I want you all to myself.” Then, surprisingly, he smiled. “You looked me up on Wikipedia?” he asked.

Jane ignored him. “Then I’m afraid we have a problem,” she said. “I won’t leave Walter.”

“I’ll kill him!” Byron declared.

“Then you’ll never have me,” Jane said firmly. “Besides, I can always turn him if it comes to that.”

Byron’s eyes darted from side to side. Jane could see he was desperate. He hated to lose. She prayed he would play the card she expected him to.

“The girl!” he said, as if he’d just now remembered her. “I’ll kill her. Her blood will be on your hands.”

“You still wouldn’t have me,” said Jane.

Byron’s face grew angry. He jumped to his feet, his hands clenched.

“Then I’ll turn her!” he shouted. “I’ll make her one of us!”

Jane said nothing. She was counting on her silence to infuriate Byron further. Predictably, it did. He rushed to her, dropping beside her on the couch and grasping her shoulders.

“I’ll do it, Jane!” he said. “You know I will. Unless you agree to be mine and mine only.”

“Please,” Jane said. “Don’t do that. She’s done nothing to deserve it.” She forced a tear from her eye.

“She reminds you of your sister,” said Byron. “I can see that.” His voice was gleeful. He thought he’d found her tender spot.

“She deserves a normal life,” Jane said. “Not this.” She hoped Byron wouldn’t reveal that Lucy had already agreed to become a vampire if he wished her to. What happened next depended upon it.

Byron sat up. “Then make your choice,” he demanded. “Come with me or I turn the girl.”

At that moment the closet door flew open and Lucy emerged. “You’re too late!” she cried.

Byron stared at her, his mouth open. Then he looked at Jane. His face was a mask of confusion.

“I already turned her,” Jane told him.