Michael Ford: Jane Vows Vengeance

“William’s best friend is Brian,” Walter said, catching up with her. “Are you saying Brian is a—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, yes, he’s a vampire. And he happens to be Lord Byron. I know I said we aren’t supposed to out one another, but I think as far as this is concerned he owes me. After all, he’s the one who turned—”

“Brian?” Walter interrupted. “ Brian turned you. But I thought he was—”

“He is,” said Jane. “Well, he mostly is. Back then he was a little less discriminating.”

“And my father?” Walter asked. “Who is he really?”

“Oh, he’s just William,” said Jane. “Well, not just William. He’s pretty extraordinary in his own right. Did you know Byron selected him to be his companion after seeing him working in the fields? He was extraordinarily good-looking. It’s no wonder Byron fell in love with—”

“La la la la la,” Walter wailed, putting his hands over his ears.

“Sorry,” Jane said. “I suppose thinking about that would be a trifle unsettling.”

“What?” said Walter. “You mean the fact that apparently both my fiancée and my father slept with the same man? Yes, I think ‘unsettling’ is a good way to describe it.”

“To be fair, he is Lord Byron,” Jane said. “I don’t know many people who haven’t slept with him at one time or another.”

Walter held up his hands and Jane stopped. She wasn’t doing a very good job of making things better. They sat in silence for a time as Jane waited for Walter to say something. But he didn’t. He just looked out the window. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“So how does this work?” he said. “Do I have to become a vampire?”

“No,” Jane answered. “You don’t.”

“But I’m guessing that you don’t get any older,” said Walter. “I mean, your body doesn’t. You stay the same, right?”

Jane nodded. “That’s right.”

“I see,” Walter said.

Jane knew that he was thinking about what it would mean for her to stay the same while he grew old and eventually died. “I thought there was a chance that I might be able to become mortal again,” she said. “I was going to try it.”

Walter looked over at her. “But you decided not to?”

“It turned out to be a legend,” Jane said. “An unfortunate bit of irony there, I suppose.”

“Is that what Suzu was talking about in the cemetery?” Walter asked. “That iron spike?”

“It’s called Crispin’s Needle,” Jane said. She didn’t correct him regarding Suzu’s identity, hoping that perhaps he hadn’t heard or didn’t remember. “But it’s a fake. We made it to fool her.”

“To save my mother,” said Walter.

“Yes,” Jane said. “To save Miriam.”

“Thank you for that,” Walter said.

“Well, she is my mother-in-law,” Jane reminded him. Then she remembered that they were yet to be married. “Will be my mother-in-law,” she said. “Might be my mother-in-law.”

Walter said nothing. Jane, unable to stand the uncertainty, finally asked, “Where does this leave us?”

Walter didn’t look at her. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Do you still love me?” asked Jane.

“Yes,” Walter answered. “I do.”

“It’s the vampire thing, isn’t it?” said Jane.

“Strangely enough, no,” Walter replied. “It’s that you didn’t think you could tell me the truth. And you were going to marry me without telling me.”

“I was hoping I could find a solution,” Jane said. “That way you would never have had to know.”

Walter took her hand. “But don’t you see how that’s even worse?” he said. “We should know everything about each other—the good and the bad. If there’s something about yourself you feel you have to hide away from me, that’s always going to be between us. There’s always going to be that one hidden room you won’t let me into. And you’ll be so worried that someday I might accidentally open the door to that room that you’ll never be able to fully be yourself. You’ll always be on guard. And the worst part is that the person you’ll be afraid of is the one who loves you the most.”

Jane felt tears forming in her eyes. “But you know now,” she said. “I don’t have to keep that door closed anymore.”

Walter squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t open the door on your own,” he said. “It was forced open.”

Jane sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Ben can still marry us,” she said. “Tomorrow. We can start fresh. No more secrets.”

Walter looked into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.

Jane began to cry. “Please, Walter,” she said. “Don’t say no. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Walter took her in his arms and held her tightly. “I love you more than anything in the world,” he whispered. “But I don’t know.”

They stayed that way for a long time, Walter just holding Jane while she wept. Eventually he let go and she wiped her eyes.

“I’m going to go now,” Jane said. “I’m going to go away and give you time to think. Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock I’ll be standing in the White Tower, waiting for you. If you still want to marry me, you meet me there.”

“And if I don’t come?” asked Walter.

Jane forced a smile. “La la la la la,” she said, putting her hands over her ears. She took them away again and kissed Walter lightly on the lips. Then she stood up and without another word left the room.

Byron found her a few hours later, sitting in the American Bar listening to the piano player and drinking gin and tonics. She’d had three, and was working on her fourth.

“Lucy has been looking all over for you,” Byron said as he sat down at her table. “She’s worried.”

“You told her what happened?” Jane asked.

“An abbreviated version of the story,” Byron said. “Dare I ask how things went with our dear Walter?”

Jane took a long sip from her glass. “I told him that I’ll be waiting for him in the Tower tomorrow morning at nine,” she said.

“How typically passive-aggressive of you,” said Byron.

Jane glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for you,” she warned.

“Don’t worry,” Byron said. “I haven’t come to torment you. I came to give you a wedding present.”

He laid a long, thin black velvet box on the table. Jane looked at it. “Is it a necklace?” she asked hopefully.

“Open it,” Byron said.

Jane picked up the box, which was surprisingly heavy, and opened it. Inside, nestled in a narrow trench pressed into the velvet, was a piece of metal about nine inches long. One end came to a very fine point, while the other was rounded.

“It’s Crispin’s Needle,” Byron informed her before she could ask.

Jane, confused, set the box down. “The Needle is a myth,” she said. “You told me as much yourself.”

“Yes, well, I lied,” said Byron. “It very much exists, and there it is. Happy returns of the day and all that.”

“I don’t understand,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

“Do you remember when I told you about Ambrose?” Byron asked.

“The vampire who turned you,” Jane said. “Of course.”

“He gave it to me,” said Byron. “It was given to him by Crispin himself. He wanted me to use it. Even though he turned me, he thought the greatest gift he could give me was to restore my humanity. He begged me to do it. But I didn’t want to be human.”

Jane reached out her hand and held it over the Needle.

“You can touch it,” Byron said. “It won’t harm you. It only works if you drive it into your heart.”

Jane touched her finger to the nail. It was cool to the touch.