Jane Bites Back

1822. She rapped on the door and waited for Kelly to answer. A moment later the door opened.

“You have to help me—” Jane began. Then she realized that the man standing before her wasn’t Kelly. It was someone she’d never seen before. And he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry,” Jane fumbled. “I must have gotten the number wrong.”

“Who is it, Bryce?” Jane heard Kelly’s voice. “Is that my laundry?”

“No,” the man Jane now assumed to be Bryce said. “I believe it’s your author.” He moved out of the way as Kelly appeared in the doorway

“Jane,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your Entertainment Weekly interview?”

Jane nodded. “That’s why I’m here,” she said, glancing inside the room where Bryce was looking through the wardrobe.

Kelly noticed her stare. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have introduced you first. Bryce, this is Jane. Jane, this is Bryce. My partner.”

The last word hit Jane like cold water. Partner, she thought numbly as she realized what it meant.

“I forgot you two have never met,” Kelly continued, oblivious to her shock.

Bryce slipped a shirt on. “I love your book,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Jane. She turned her attention back to Kelly. “We have a problem,” she said. She then explained the situation.

“Is that all?” Kelly said when she was done. “Don’t worry. This happens with every big book. Some crackpot starts a rumor that the author plagiarized the book. He fires off letters to various magazines and tries to cause trouble. Usually it’s some wannabe who thinks he’ll get attention or money by causing a stink.”

“But she says she doesn’t know who sent the email,” said Jane.

“That’s actually good news,” Kelly told her. “That means it’s just someone with nothing better to do. Here’s what you do. Tell this woman—what’s her name?”

“Farrah,” said Jane.

“Farrah?” Kelly and Bryce said in unison.

“Something about her mother,” said Jane. “So, what do I say?”

“You tell her that we’re aware of the emails and that they’re being sent maliciously by someone who has a grudge against you. Tell her our legal department is handling it. That will shut her up. She won’t write anything about it if she thinks she might get in trouble for spreading unfounded claims.”

“That’s it?” said Jane.

“That’s it,” Kelly said. “Sometimes living in a litigious country works to your advantage. Now go, before she gets even more suspicious. Here, take this so she thinks you really did have something you needed to do.” He handed Jane a copy of her book. “She’s only read a bound galley. Tell her you wanted her to have a signed copy of the real thing.”

Jane took the book. “Go,” Kelly ordered. “We have to be at the studio by one- thirty”

“Bye!” Bryce called out as Jane left. Jane didn’t answer. As she headed for the elevator, she wondered how she could have been so foolish regarding Kelly’s preference for men. He’s smart, handsome, and cultured, she thought. I should have known. You’d think I would have learned my lesson after what happened with Percy Shelley.

Back at her room, she paused at the door and caught her breath. She looked at her watch. She’d been gone only five minutes. Now she simply had to get through the rest of the interview. She would tell Farrah that she’d had to get permission from her editor to tell her about the claim of plagiarism, as it was now a legal matter. That should take care of it.

She opened the door. “I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said. “I wanted to get you—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Farrah was lying across the bed. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, unblinking.

Chapter 23

Mrs. Eleanor Burnham regarded Constance icily. “You should be commended on your successful entry into our company,” she said. “It isn’t often that a young woman of your background rises above it.” “I wonder if that is indeed the case,” Constance replied, smiling sweetly. “Or perhaps it is not I who have risen but you who have fallen.”

—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript

“Farrah?”

Jane approached the bed slowly. The reporter didn’t respond, and her eyes remained open. Then Jane noticed the two small wounds on her neck. The blood around them was still fresh.

“No, no, no,” said Jane, shaking the young woman. Her limp body rolled beneath Jane’s hands. Her head turned and she looked, unseeing, into Jane’s face.

“Damn,” Jane said firmly. The girl was gone.

Clearly, she had been bitten. But by whom? As far as Jane knew, she was the only vampire in the hotel. Then again, she had never been particularly good at sensing her own kind; it was as if her vampire radar had fizzled out from years of disuse. Certainly there were likely to be others of her kind in Chicago, but she didn’t know any of them. The only other possibility was Byron.

It all became clear. Byron was the one who had sent the reporter the email. Now he had killed her in order to frame Jane not only for plagiarism but for murder as well. I knew he left too easily, she thought bitterly. He was planning his revenge.

Well, he’d done a good job of it. She looked at Farrah’s lifeless body. Then she lifted the girl’s lips with her finger, recoiling at the sensation. There was no blood on her teeth. That, at least, was good. It meant that Byron hadn’t turned her. She was merely dead. Which isn’t much of a relief, Jane thought as she closed the girl’s mouth and reached for a tissue with which to wipe her finger. As she did, she noticed the clock on the bedside table. It was almost noon.

She remembered Kelly saying that they had to be at the studio by one-thirty And she still had nothing to wear. She’d dressed comfortably for the plane, and what she had on was not at all acceptable for appearing before millions of viewers. She had to find something. But she couldn’t just leave Farrah lying on her bed. Anyone who came in would see her, and that would be disastrous.

There was no way she could get the body out of the room. Even if she could drag it into the hall, what would she do with it? And she couldn’t ask Kelly for help with this particular problem. Apart from the whole murder thing, it would bring up other questions Jane was not prepared to answer.

The longer she worried, the less time she had to shop for an outfit. She looked around the room. The closet was impractical, as was the bathtub. She would have to stow Farrah under the bed for the time being.

Taking the girl by the shoulders, she pulled her off the bed and laid her as gently as she could on the carpet. One of Farrah’s shoes fell off in the process, and Jane tried slipping it back on the bare foot. But it wouldn’t quite go, and so finally she shoved it under the bed. She followed it with Farrah’s body, first pushing it as far as she could, then going to the other side and pulling it the rest of the way.

That’s better, Jane thought as she straightened the bedspread. Now for the shopping. She located her purse and looked inside for the notes Lucy had written up for her. Lucy had written out what pieces should be worn together, and had outlined the makeup regimen Jane should follow.

Now, however, the list was useless. All of Jane’s clothes and makeup were who knew where. She had to start all over, and this filled her with panic. She didn’t even know where to begin. But the clock was ticking, and she had to move. Grabbing her key card, she left the room and headed down to the lobby, where she approached the