Jane Goes Batty

“I wish I could make that happen,” said Kelly. “But I can’t. So please, just try to work with her. You don’t want to antagonize your publisher.”

“What about my publisher antagonizing me?” Jane asked. “Why can’t we just get another publisher? Surely someone else would want me.”

“Someone probably would,” said Kelly. “But switching publishers never looks good. I’d rather stick with Browder.”

Jane tapped her fingers angrily on the desk while she tried to compose herself. “In other words, I have to play nicely with Jessica Abernathy,” she said.

She considered telling Kelly about Jessica’s connection to Violet Grey. But that would complicate things too much, and besides, she was no longer sure she entirely trusted Kelly. She had yet to tell him that she was a vampire, and although a week earlier she would have entertained doing so with no reservations about his ability to keep her secret, now she had doubts.

“That’s pretty much where things stand,” Kelly said in answer to her question.

Jane considered this. Did she really care if she published another novel? She’d waited almost two hundred years to see Constance published. She could do it again.

No, she told herself. You couldn’t.

This was true. Having once again tasted the joy of seeing her words in print, she was not willing to give that up. She would write the novel for Jessica Abernathy, and it would be a good novel. Better than anything she’d yet written. But she wasn’t going to be happy about it, and she wasn’t going to let Kelly off the hook quite yet.

“I’ll think about it,” she said stiffly. “We’ll talk later.”

She hung up.

The happiness she’d felt from sharing Lucy’s excitement about her new relationship had completely disappeared. Now all she could think about was how she was, in essence, Jessica Abernathy’s employee. Added to the fact that she had to spend the rest of the day keeping an eye on Chloe, this put her in a decidedly unpleasant mood. Maybe I’ll bite somebody, she thought darkly.

She got up and opened the office door. A woman was browsing the fiction shelves. Deciding it might cheer her up to help someone find a good book, Jane approached the customer.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

The woman turned around, and Jane was horrified to discover that it was Miriam Ellenberg. Miriam presented Jane with a tight smile. “Do you have Jane Eyre?” she asked. “It’s by Charlotte Brontë.”

“So it is,” said Jane. “I believe we do have a copy or two.”

“It’s such a good book,” Miriam remarked as Jane led her to the appropriate section. “I don’t know why, but I woke up this morning with a desire to read it again.”

“Probably because of the festival,” Jane said. “It starts on Friday. You likely saw posters for it all over town.”

“That’s probably it,” said Miriam as Jane found the novel and handed it to her.

Of course she’s a Brontëite, Jane thought as she watched Walter’s mother examine the book as if she were checking it for defects. She wondered if Miriam had come by herself and if she was there for any other reason.

This question was answered a moment later when Walter entered the store. He was holding two cups of coffee from the bakery a few doors down. When he saw Jane standing beside his mother a decidedly uncomfortable look crossed his face.

“Good morning, Jane,” he said stiffly.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Jane.

“Did you find the book, Mother?” Walter asked Miriam.

Miriam nodded. “Yes. But I think perhaps I don’t want to read it after all.” She handed the book back to Jane. “I’ll just look around.”

Walter watched his mother wander over to the gardening books. “How are you?” he asked Jane.

“I’m well,” Jane told him. “And you? Your mother seems to be enjoying her visit.”

“At least one of us is,” said Walter. He looked at Jane. “I know my mother has a lot to do with what’s happened between us,” he said. “I should never have lied to her about you, and I should never have asked you to think about converting. I’m sorry.”

Jane didn’t know what to say. How could she tell Walter that the reason she couldn’t be with him was because his mother knew she was a vampire? He would think she was insane.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “Sometimes Mother knows best.”

Walter reached out and took her hand. Jane found herself glancing toward Miriam to see if they were being watched. Walter’s mother, however, seemed engrossed in a book about the successful growing of daylilies.

“Jane, it doesn’t matter to me what she thinks,” Walter said. “So if that’s the only reason you don’t think you can be with me, don’t let it come between us.”

Jane squeezed his hand. “Walter, she’s your mother,” she said.

“Do you love me?” Walter asked, surprising her.

Jane looked into his eyes but said nothing.

“Because I love you,” Walter continued. “You know that. And I think you love me. So if my mother is the only thing keeping us from being together, then just say so. Because I can handle my mother.”

I’m not so sure you can, Jane thought as she struggled for words.

“It’s a simple question, Jane,” said Walter. “Do you love me?”

Jane glanced at Miriam. The woman had put the book down and now was staring at Jane and Walter. Jane saw a look of pure hatred on her face. What Miriam knew about her could be disastrous for all of them.

Then she looked at Walter. His blue eyes were pools of still water, but there was worry reflected in them, as if a storm were gathering. Jane longed to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be all right. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t ever be.

She opened her mouth to tell him this but heard herself say, “You know I do.”

Walter embraced her. “Then everything will be all right,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ll see.”

Jane looked over his shoulder. Miriam met her gaze. She shook her head once, then turned and walked out of the shop.

Jane closed her eyes and let Walter hold her.

Chapter 20

Jane and Byron knelt behind the peony bushes at the south end of Walter’s yard. Very old and very large, the bushes sported huge pink and white flowers, and their dark green leaves provided excellent screening from the house. The only drawback was the bees, which buzzed sleepily around the flowers like tiny astronauts exploring new worlds. Jane eyed them warily as she peered through the bushes.

“Tell me again why we can’t just go invisible,” she said. When Byron had suggested the mission to her earlier that day she’d assumed they would make use of their ability to disappear. He, however, had insisted on maintaining corporeality.

“It’s difficult to use two abilities at once,” he said. “For instance, invisibility and glamoring. You end up making both weaker. You can do it, but it takes practice.”

“But you’ve had a great deal of practice,” Jane reminded him.

“Not with this particular ability,” said Byron. “I’ve done it, but not often.”

Their conversation was cut short by the opening of the back door. Miriam appeared on the porch, and a moment later Lilith descended the short flight of stairs into the back garden. She ran using her peculiar three-legged hop into the grass, where she began sniffing around.

“This is a terrible idea,” Jane whispered. “Miriam is watching. There’s no way we’ll be able to get the dog.”

“Just be quiet,” said Byron. “And have the bag ready.”