Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [45]
No, she told herself as she stared at the sign. You can’t. That’s just not right.
Despite this, she found herself driving around the corner and parking the car in a spot reserved for patrons of the hair salon that had yet to open for the day. Reaching into the backseat, she retrieved her bag of hunting clothes and selected from it a short blond wig, which she pulled on and arranged as best she could. She was already wearing sunglasses to shield her increasingly sensitive eyes, and she added a scarf so that her face was almost entirely concealed.
Getting out, she walked quickly to the church and up the steps. Inside, she scanned the sanctuary. It was empty. The confessional was to the right. The curtains on the penitents’ chambers on either side were pulled back, but the one covering the central priest’s chamber was closed.
Jane went to the left-hand chamber and pulled the curtain shut behind her. Kneeling on the narrow padded rail, she waited until the small window in the wall separating her from the priest slid back. She could just make out the outline of his face as he said, “What have you to confess, child?”
Focusing her mind, Jane spoke in a voice very unlike her own. “Forgive me, Father,” she said, the words sounding more like an incantation than a confession. “I have sinned.”
She seldom used her glamoring ability. Usually the men she chose were already otherwise incapacitated. But occasionally she had to use more esoteric means. She did so now. She knew that as she spoke, her words were fogging the priest’s mind.
“Yes?” the priest said. He sounded confused.
“I have lied,” Jane said. “Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven,” said the priest, although he did not sound at all sure about this. “You must…” His voice trailed off.
Jane exited the confessional and slid soundlessly into the priest’s compartment. He sat on an ordinary folding chair, looking straight ahead with a peaceful smile on his face. Jane bent and removed the collar from around his neck. Then, holding his head gently in her hands, she fed.
Almost immediately she felt better. Within a minute her head ceased to ache and her eyes no longer burned. She took only a little more blood from the priest before releasing him. Taking a tissue from her coat pocket, she held it to the two small punctures on his throat. When she was satisfied that there was no more bleeding, she replaced his collar and fastened it.
“Forgive me, Father,” she said as she turned and fled from the church.
She made it to the bookstore just as Lucy was unlocking the front door. Lucy waited for Jane to get out of the car. “What’s with the cut-and-dye?” Lucy asked.
Jane, not understanding, said, “I didn’t get my hair cut.”
“It sure looks like it,” Lucy replied.
Then Jane remembered the wig. She’d forgotten to remove it. “Oh, that,” she said. “Right. I was just trying it out. What do you think? You know what they say about blondes having more fun.”
Lucy looked at the wig, biting her lip. “Honestly?” she said. “It makes you look like a soccer mom.”
“I think you’re right,” Jane said as she opened the door and went inside. “It was a bad idea.” She set the deli bag on the counter and pulled the wig off. Her real hair was a rat’s nest, but she could deal with it easily enough.
Lucy opened the bag and took out a bagel. As she unwrapped it she said, “Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” Jane said. “Why?”
Lucy shrugged. “You just seem a little bit… I don’t know. Edgy,” she said. “You’ve never called me at home before. Not in the morning, anyway. And the wig. That’s not you at all.”
Jane busied herself with removing her coat and fixing her hair. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Lucy’s question. She couldn’t exactly tell her that she’d spent the night with Lord Byron in order to save Lucy from joining the ranks of the living dead, then seduced a priest in order