Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [92]
Byron leaned his chair back, resting his back against the grimy wall. “Now that is a story,” he said. “You know that I traveled widely in the years before 1816.”
Jane nodded. “I do.”
“Much of that time was in Greece,” Byron continued. “While I was there I met a young man called Ambrose. He was a soldier.” He paused, and a sad smile crossed his face for a moment. “You should have seen him,” he said. “He was beautiful. I fell in love instantly.”
“Shocking,” Jane remarked, although not unkindly. She was seeing another side of Byron, and it was rather touching.
“The only thing that troubled me was that Ambrose would never spend the night with me,” said Byron. “Every night, after we ate and made love, he would leave my house. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going. I assumed there was a woman, perhaps a wife and child. At first I didn’t care, but as the summer went on I became jealous.” He looked at Jane. “I know that’s difficult to believe.”
Jane said nothing, sipping her beer. Given how many women Byron had stolen away from their husbands on a whim and then just as carelessly discarded, the idea that he could love someone enough to care in who else’s bed he slept was intriguing. This Ambrose must have been something special, she thought.
“One night I could take it no longer. I followed him. He roamed the city, finally ending up at the harbor. There, under the docks, I saw him kiss another man. At least that’s what I thought he was doing.”
“He was feeding,” Jane said.
Byron nodded. “I watched, horrified, as he killed the man. Then he turned and saw me. I wanted to run, but even more than that I wanted him to love me.”
Byron grew quiet. He seemed lost in thought, rocking his chair back and forth slowly. “You let him turn you, didn’t you?” Jane asked.
Byron looked up. His eyes were filled with tears. “Yes,” he said. “It was the only way we could be together. And for a while we were.”
“But you left him?” Jane suggested.
Byron shook his head. “He was killed,” he said. “After I was turned, Ambrose taught me to hunt. One night, I seduced a local girl, beautiful but foolish. It was my first time attempting a glamor, and I was overconfident. The girl woke up while I was draining her, and she managed to get away. She’d seen my face. I ran back to the house and told Ambrose what had happened. When the girl returned with help, Ambrose glamored her into believing that he was the one whose face she’d seen. He’d already told me to leave through the back and escape into the hills.”
Jane felt her skin grow cold. She feared what Byron would say next. The story would end badly, she knew, and she didn’t want to hear it. But she listened nonetheless, anxious for it to be over.
Byron took a deep breath. “They dragged him to the center of town, drove a stake through his heart, and threw him from the cliffs into the sea,” he said. “There was nothing I could do. No one could have survived such a thing. Afterward, I did as he’d told me to. I went into the hills and made my way back to Italy, where I began my new life.”
Jane wasn’t sure what to say, so she reached out and took Byron’s hand. He remained still. “Do you know what the name Ambrose means?” he asked after a moment. “‘Immortal.’ Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I never knew,” said Jane.
“Nobody did,” Byron said. “Until now I’ve never spoken of it. But I owed you. Perhaps now I’ve repaid that debt a bit.”
“You don’t owe me,” Jane told him, taking her hand back. “I came to you that summer looking for an adventure, and that’s what you gave me.”
“Yes,” Byron said. “But I should have asked whether or not you wanted to be taken on it.”
Jane started to say something but was interrupted by the arrival of Emmeline. She had with her a young man, muscular and glassy-eyed. He wore an AC/DC T-shirt and his neck was covered in bruises.
“Did you save room for dessert?” Emmeline asked.
Chapter 30
That night she read to Charles for the first time, stumbling over the words, then finding her footing and continuing on, anxious