Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [3]
Lucy glanced at Melodie, who was signing the last of the books. “You’re sure?” she asked Jane.
“I don’t care which one of you drives me,” said Melodie, snapping the cap back on the pen she’d used to sign the books. “But let’s get going. I’ve got to be on a plane for Columbus or Detroit or some other shit hole first thing in the morning.”
“I’m quite sure,” Jane told Lucy. “You go on. I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you for all of your work on the event.”
“No problem,” said Lucy. She turned to Melodie. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “It was nice to meet you.”
The woman nodded but said nothing. After a short pause during which it became obvious that Melodie had no intention of returning Lucy’s thanks, Lucy shot Jane a look. “See you tomorrow,” she said as she turned and walked to the front door.
“I’m ready to go,” said Melodie, standing and putting on her coat before Lucy had even shut the door behind her.
Jane looked at the woman and smiled. “Well then,” she said. “Let’s tarry no longer in the parlor of joy.”
Melodie stared at her.
“My car is out back,” said Jane. “I’ll just get my coat.”
A few minutes later they were sitting in Jane’s beat-up Volvo wagon, waiting for the heat to kick in. Melodie rubbed her hands together. “How old is this thing, anyway?” she asked dismissively
“You should never ask a lady her age,” Jane said primly, earning a peculiar look from Melodie.
She put the car into gear and pulled out of the lot. As they drove through the snowy streets of downtown Brakeston, Melodie looked out the window. “This place is so boring,” she said. “How can you stand living here?”
“I find its unassuming character charming,” Jane answered.
“If I had to live in a place like this, I would absolutely die,” Melodie continued. “When I saw my tour itinerary I was like, Brakeston? Where the hell is Brakeston?”
“Lucy went to a lot of trouble to get you here,” Jane informed her. “And I think the turnout was quite impressive, don’t you?”
Melodie shrugged. “It was nothing compared to the New York reading,” she said. “We had to turn people away from that one.”
“Oh, the horror,” said Jane sympathetically.
“Right,” Melodie agreed. “Anyway, I guess I’m probably the biggest thing to ever come through here, so at least I added a little excitement to those people’s lives.”
“We’re ever so thankful you agreed to grace us,” said Jane. “I’m sure we’ll be talking about it for months.”
“I just can’t wait to get back to civilization,” Melodie said, sighing.
That’s it, Jane thought. She suddenly turned off the main street and headed down a quiet side lane.
“The hotel is that way,” Melodie protested.
“This is a shortcut,” said Jane curtly.
At the end of the street she pulled the car to the side and stopped in front of a house that blinked red and green with Christmas lights. On the lawn a life-size Mary and Joseph stared at the car. Behind them Santa, Frosty, and Rudolph gazed rapturously down at the baby Jesus asleep in his plastic manger. Giant candy canes provided a backdrop for three elves bearing gaily wrapped packages.
“Where are we?” Melodie asked. “What are we doing here?”
“I just need to take care of a little errand,” said Jane. She unfastened her seat belt and leaned toward her passenger, who was too busy looking at the bizarre Nativity scene to notice. As Jane opened her mouth the two fangs secreted in her upper jaw slipped from their bony sheaths and clicked into place. When her lips connected with Melodie’s neck, Melodie jumped and gave a little scream, which was cut short as Jane pushed the young woman’s face against her own coat and held it there as the blood began to flow past her lips.
Chapter 2
She sometimes woke from these dreams fevered and disoriented, as if during the night some phantom had come into her room, filling her lungs with fiendish breath that poisoned her mind. In the first moments of consciousness she pulled against the sheets twined about her and called out for rescue. But in the empty house her voice went unheard.
—Jane Austen, Constance,