Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [39]
A violent shiver ran down Jane’s spine as Lucy continued. “Anyway, he took me by the hand and led me into a bedroom.” She looked at Jane and smiled shyly. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” she admitted. “It’s not like I go around having dreams about men making love to me or anything.”
Jane cleared her throat. “Go on,” she said.
“Well,” Lucy replied, “while we were in bed I reached up to take the mask from his face. I remember touching the feathers, and I remember pulling the mask away. I caught just a glimpse of his face before I woke up.”
Jane’s heart pounded in her chest. “Do you remember what he looked like?” she asked.
Lucy shook her head. “That’s the funny thing,” she said. “Sometimes I think I remember it perfectly clearly. I can even picture it in my head. But then it changes to something else and I forget what the first face looked like. It’s as if I’m seeing him in a mirror but the mirror keeps reflecting other men who are passing by behind me.”
“I see,” Jane said. A terrible thought was forming in her mind, one she didn’t want to entertain even for a moment.
Lucy scratched at her neck. Jane, noticing it, had to force down the panic rising in her.
“Stupid spider bites,” said Lucy. “They itch like crazy. Hey, maybe that’s what caused the dreams. Spider venom.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be freaky?”
Jane walked over to her, the display forgotten. “Let me see,” she said, attempting to keep her voice steady. She pulled back Lucy’s long hair and inspected her neck. As she’d feared, two tiny red marks lay a few inches below Lucy’s left ear. They had healed quickly. No wonder Lucy was dismissing them as insect bites.
“I think you’re right,” said Jane. Her hand had begun to tremble, and she pulled it away quickly. “Don’t scratch them or you’ll make them worse.”
Lucy responded with a yawn, which she covered with one hand. “I’m just so tired,” she said.
“You should probably take the afternoon off,” Jane suggested. “You might be having a little reaction to the spider bites. I have to run a couple of errands, but I should be back in an hour or so. I can handle things for the rest of the day.”
Lucy rubbed her eyes. “Maybe,” she said. “I might feel better after some more coffee.”
No, you won’t, Jane thought. The effects of a bite didn’t wear off quite so quickly. Nor would the effects of the dream Byron had apparently planted into Lucy’s thoughts. He’d done it on purpose, of course, knowing that Lucy would likely tell Jane about it. He also knew that she would do what she was about to do.
“I’ll be back soon,” she assured Lucy. “Remember—no scratching.”
Jane left the store and got into her car. As she drove to Byron’s house, she promised herself that she wouldn’t let him toy with her. “None of his nonsense,” she said.
She parked at the curb and walked to the front door of the house. Only as she knocked did it occur to her that Byron might not be there. But then she heard him call, “A moment, please.”
When he saw Jane standing on his doorstep he smiled broadly. “This is an unexpected surprise,” he said. “Come in.”
Jane entered. She started to speak, but stopped when she saw the interior of the house. It had been meticulously restored. She could hardly believe how beautiful it was. The walnut woodwork had all been stripped of years of paint and refinished, the stained-glass window at the top of the stairs had been repaired, and the lights and other fixtures had been replaced with vintage pieces. Even the wallpaper—a handsome William Morris design of pink poppies on a black background—looked as if it could be original to the house.
Walter did an amazing job, she thought. She was so dazzled by the house that she almost forgot why she was there. Then she remembered. Without waiting for Byron she went into the living room and stood behind a leather wingback chair. She wanted something between her and Byron while she confronted him. “I