Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [44]
“Walter is surprisingly open-minded,” she said.
Byron rolled onto his side, pushing Tom off the bed. The cat padded from the room, leaving them alone. Jane tried to avoid looking any lower than Byron’s face, but he was making it difficult.
“And have you told young Lucy?” he asked.
“Not yet,” said Jane.
Byron rubbed his fingers over his chest. “Then I can still pay her a visit,” he said. “That’s certainly an … appetizing possibility.”
“Don’t you dare!” Jane exclaimed. “I’m going to tell her.”
“Ah, but you haven’t,” said Byron. He sat up and reached for his pants, which were on the floor.
Jane grabbed his arm. “No,” she said. “Please.”
Byron stroked her face with his free hand. “Sweet Jane,” he said. “My beautiful, sweet Jane. For you I would do most anything.”
“Then leave Lucy alone,” Jane pleaded.
“Very well,” said Byron. “But if I’m not to share her bed, then I require a substitute.”
Jane, understanding all too well his meaning, started to pull away. Then Byron’s lips parted to reveal two sharp fangs.
“I’m hungry, Jane,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Oh, so hungry.”
Jane imagined Lucy asleep in her bed, Byron looking down at her. He had already fed from her once. Another bite and she was likely to turn. Unless he killed her. And the thing that would decide the matter was whatever words Jane next spoke. She closed her eyes and pictured Lucy laughing and smiling.
“All right,” she said. “Stay with me.”
Chapter 16
She wondered if there really was such a thing as atonement. Would Charles, if he knew who she really was, forgive her?
—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript
BYRON WAS GONE IN THE MORNING, THE ONLY PROOF OF HIS HAVING been there the pounding in Jane’s head like the clanging of church bells. Her whole body ached, and she could barely stand the light. She’d forgotten what it was like when two of her kind joined together. All of their senses became heightened, but the drawback was that their frailties did as well. Jane was ravenously hungry. She hated searching for food in the morning, but she would have to if she wanted to get through the day.
First, though, she had to make sure that Byron had kept his end of their bargain. She reached for the phone and dialed Lucy’s home number. As she listened to it ring, she scratched idly at the tiny bite marks on her thigh.
“Hello?”
“Lucy?” Jane said. “It’s me.” She realized then that she had no excuse prepared for why she was calling Lucy at—she glanced at the clock—8:22 in the morning.
“Hey, Jane,” said Lucy. “What’s up?”
“Well,” Jane replied, trying to get her foggy brain to work, “I, um, just wanted to see if you’d like me to pick you up a bagel on my way to the store.”
“Oh,” said Lucy. “Sure, I guess.”
“Great,” Jane enthused. “What kind?”
“How about raisin?” said Lucy. “With plain cream cheese.”
“You got it,” Jane said, much too enthusiastically. “I’ll see you in about an hour. Oh, say, how are those spider bites?”
“Gone,” Lucy said. “No more itching.”
“And you slept well?”
“Like a baby,” said Lucy. “Anything else, Mom?”
“Very funny,” Jane said. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
She hung up, feeling like a complete fool. What must Lucy think of her? “And you slept well?’” she said, mimicking her own voice. “Honestly, sometimes you’re a right fool, Jane Austen. Jane Fairfax,” she corrected herself. Her head resumed pounding.
After a hurried shower she drove to the deli and picked up some bagels and cream cheese. The smell of the food made her queasy, and she knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. She had to feed, and soon.
The problem was that there wasn’t enough time for her to drive to any of her usual places. She would have to hunt locally. That was a huge problem under the best of circumstances. In the daylight, with only twenty minutes before she had to be at the shop, it was almost impossible. But she had no choice.
She drove around for a few minutes, hoping against hope that breakfast would fall into her lap. She considered and rejected a jogger, a drunk asleep at