Jane Goes Batty jb-2

by Michael Thomas Ford

  “I took her child because she took mine!” said Charlotte.

  “I was no child,” Beverly snapped. “And my mother no more caused your death than I did.” She stepped toward Charlotte. “But now I will have my revenge.”

  “You wouldn’t dare kill me,” said Charlotte.

  Doris laughed. “I don’t intend to kill you,” she said. “I’m going to have you arrested and jailed for the murder of Jessica Abernathy.”

  “You’re the one who killed her,” Jane whispered.

  Doris nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And I put the note from Violet in her pocket.”

  “They’ll never believe you,” Charlotte said. “Jessica was my sorority sister.”

  “Please,” Doris said. “You only befriended her because you hoped she would publish your novels once she established herself. Then when she became Jane’s editor you saw an opportunity to get your revenge on your enemy.” She clapped her hands together. “No, I think you’ll be going to prison for murder. Or maybe you’d like to tell them that you’re Charlotte Brontë, as well as a vampire. What do you think they would do to you then?”

  “I’ll kill you,” Charlotte growled.

  “What do you think it would be like being a vampire in prison?” Doris asked, addressing Jane and Byron. “Not much fun, I wouldn’t think. And what would a life sentence be when you’re immortal? How long do you think it would be before other prisoners started turning up drained of blood? And how soon would it be before someone noticed that the prisoner in cell block C looked exactly the same as she did when she entered her cell sixty-eight years before? I suspect the scientists would be very interested in such a specimen.”

  “It doesn’t sound very nice,” said Byron. He looked at Charlotte. “I hope you have a good lawyer.”

  “I’m still confused,” Jane said. “You killed Jessica to frame Violet. That makes sense. But what about Miriam? Why were you working with her?”

  “That was Charlotte’s idea,” Doris said. “You see, after your last run-in Charlotte decided to look into your boyfriend’s family to see what kind of mischief she might make. Imagine her surprise when she discovered that his own mother was one of the world’s most feared vampire hunters.”

  “I don’t know how you couldn’t have known,” Charlotte said to Jane. “You’re really very stupid.”

  “Says the vampire who just got framed by her own servant,” said Jane.

  “I’m not her servant!” Doris said. “Stop calling me that. Both of you.” She waited until both Jane and Charlotte were quiet, then continued. “Charlotte arranged for Miriam to catch me,” she said. “I then begged her to let me live and made a bargain with her. I would help her find other vampires.”

  “But you had to agree to be defanged,” said Byron. “Now I see.”

  “At first we thought we would tell Miriam that her son’s girlfriend was a vampire,” Doris said. “Then Charlotte decided it would be more amusing if she found out by accident, so I told Miriam I knew of a vampire living here.”

  “That would be me,” said Byron. “Correct?”

  “Yes,” said Doris. “As it happened, it was very convenient for all of us. By having Miriam kill you, Charlotte would have her revenge on you for turning her. It would also put Miriam in contact with Jane.”

  “A little something for everyone,” Jane said. “It’s very nice, but there seem to be an awful lot of coincidences in this story.”

  “Please,” said Doris. “As if the two of you don’t have books filled with convenient coincidences. You can’t have an entertaining story without them.”

  “My novels are not entertainment,” Charlotte said. “They are literature.”

  “They’re tripe,” said Doris. “The only people who like them are miserable little girls who have never been kissed and likely never will be and the occasional boy who finds a copy of Jane Eyre in his sister’s bedroom and thinks there might be dirty bits in it.”

  Jane giggled.

  “Yours are only slightly better,” Doris told her. “Supposedly independent women trotting about the countryside after impossible men.”

  “But they are better,” Jane said. She looked at Charlotte and winked.

  “Not that this isn’t a brilliant plan,” said Byron. “And it is. But it seems like a lot of fuss to go through just for a spot of revenge.”

  “Not at all,” Doris said. “I really do love romance literature, and the festival was great fun. When this is all over with I plan to go right on as Beverly Shrop. Seeing Charlotte jailed and the two of you staked is just an added bonus.”

  “But why me?” asked Jane. “I’ve done nothing to you.”

  “Perhaps not,” Doris said. “But you’ve treated me rudely. Admit it—you thought I was just some silly woman trying to make money off your work, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” Jane admitted.

  “You wouldn’t give me the time of day,” Doris continued. “And yet I brought busloads of fans to see you. It’s very ungrateful of you. Besides, having you dead will explain why Miriam is dead. I’m sorry about that. Well, a little sorry.”

  “Is Miriam dead?” asked Jane. “I thought she was just knocked out.”

  “She is,” Doris said. “But she’ll be dead soon enough. Then I can lay claim to having destroyed one of the greatest vampire hunters of all time.”

  “About that,” said Jane. “How exactly did Miriam come to be a hunter?”

  As Doris started to answer, Ted sprang from his chair. Only then did Jane notice that while they had been talking Lilith had snuck in and chewed through the ropes tying his hands. Now she ran at Doris’s ankles, growling and biting them as Doris danced from foot to foot in an attempt at kicking her. Ted grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms to her sides.

  “Now what?” he shouted.

  “Knock her out!” Jane yelled.

  “Break her neck!” said Charlotte.

  “Lock her in the closet!” Byron suggested.

  Ted opted to follow Byron’s advice. With Lilith still clawing at Doris’s ankles, Ted dragged her to the hall closet, opened the door, and pushed her inside. He then placed the chair from which he’d escaped against the doorknob, making it impossible for Doris to open it. She pounded on it from the other side, cursing him and the dog.

  “Now untie us,” Jane said when Ted returned. “And keep away from Charlotte.”

  Ted worked on the ropes. “Is she really Charlotte Brontë?” he asked Jane as he undid the knots.

  “She is,” said Jane, rubbing her wrists where the rope had scraped them raw.

  “And are you really …”

  Jane nodded. “I am,” she said.

  Ted looked at Byron. “I suppose you’re not just an English professor, are you?”

  “I’ll give you a clue—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. He’s Lord Byron,” Charlotte said.

  “Did I say you could out me, Charlotte?” said Byron. “I don’t recall going around telling everyone who you are.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” Charlotte shot back. “Not after what you did to me and our child.”

  “I tried to save—”

  “Enough!” Jane barked. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do.” She looked at Miriam’s still figure. “No one is killing Walter’s mother,” she said. “Even if it would make things easier for some of us.” Turning to Charlotte, she said, “And although the idea of you spending eternity in jail is indeed amusing, you didn’t kill Jessica and I see no reason why you should pay for that crime.”

  “I should say not,” said Charlotte.

  “Right, then,” Jane said. “Let’s make a deal. We’ll let you go. In return, you must promise to bother us no more. Also, you will take Doris with you. You created her; you deal with her. Are those acceptable terms?”

  Charlotte chewed on her lip. Jane could see she was struggling with her answer. Finally she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “They’re acceptable.”

&nb
sp; “Untie her,” Jane told Byron.

  “What are you going to do with Doris?” Byron asked Charlotte as he loosened her bonds.

  “I have a few ideas,” Charlotte said darkly. “I don’t think she’ll be pleased about any of them.”

  She stood up. Facing Jane, she said, “I won’t thank you, as you’ve done nothing I couldn’t have done myself had I tried. However, I will say you’ve comported yourself admirably.”

  Jane nodded. “And I won’t say you’re an evil genius, but I will say you make a very fine moorhen.”

  “Bite me,” Charlotte said, swirling around and storming out. They heard the closet door open, then squeals of protest as Charlotte dragged a gibbering Doris down the hall. There was a slam as the front door opened and closed.

  “Now what to do with Mother Ellenberg,” said Byron.

  Jane looked down at Walter’s mother. Her chest rose and fell steadily, and the blood on her forehead had dried. “Leave her to me,” Jane said. “I think I know just what to do with her.”

  Chapter 29

  “Where am I?”

  Jane turned down the volume on the television. “You’re in my guest room,” she told Miriam. “We’re watching Shrek.”

  Miriam looked around. She put her hand to her forehead and winced. “What have you done to me?”

  “It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what your friend Beverly did. Although her name isn’t really Beverly and she murdered Jessica Abernathy. But I have a feeling Our Gloomy Friend has taken care of her.”

  “Who’s Our Gloomy Friend?” asked Miriam.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jane told her. “What matters is that I saved your life.”

  Miriam snorted. “Unlikely,” she said. “Your kind thinks of no one but themselves.”

  “And what might my kind be?” Jane asked her.

  “Vampires,” said Miriam. She spat the word out as if it were a piece of spoiled fruit. “Bloodsuckers.”

  “And just how many of us have you actually known?”

  “Enough to know what vile creatures you are,” said Miriam.

  “At least you didn’t try to tell me that some of your best friends are vampires and that you only kill the bad ones,” said Jane. “That’s a point in your favor. If you’re going to be racist, you might as well go all the way.”

  “I’m not racist!” Miriam said.

  “Oh?” said Jane. “You want to kill me just because I’m a vampire. What would you call that?”

  “Being sensible,” Miriam said.

  “You know, I could have just left you on the floor in Walter’s living room,” said Jane. “Doris wanted to kill you. So did Charlotte. But we told them no.”

  “Doris?” said Miriam. “Who’s Doris?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jane said. “That’s Beverly’s real name. Anyway, the point is, you’re not dead, and that’s because of me. So the way I see it, you owe me.”

  “Owe you?” said Miriam. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “I think you do,” Jane said. “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to tell Walter that you tried to kill me, and you’re not going to tell Walter that I’m a vampire.”

  “And why should I do that?”

  “Because I love your son and he loves me,” Jane said. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “My son couldn’t love a vampire,” said Miriam.

  “Well, he does,” Jane told her. “And you’re just going to have to accept it. Times are changing, Miriam. This isn’t the eighteenth century. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Miriam said nothing. She just lay back against the pillows and looked at the television set. Jane had paused the movie just as Shrek was getting ready to kiss Fiona, whose true form had been revealed to be that of an ogre.

  “This is a good part,” Miriam said. “Turn it on.”

  Jane hit the play button and the film resumed. She and Miriam watched for the next ten minutes without speaking. Then the credits came on and Jane turned the DVD player off.

  “Maybe you’re not so bad,” said Miriam. “But I have a condition.”

  “What condition?” Jane asked, afraid of what was coming next.

  “You have to give me a grandbaby,” said Miriam.

  “A grandbaby?” Jane said.

  “I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl,” Miriam said. “As long as it’s healthy. Can you have babies?”

  Jane scratched her head. “I really don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never tried.”

  “No baby, no deal,” said Miriam. “As far as I’m concerned, until there’s a baby you’re fair game. But give me a grandchild and we’ll see what we can do. We have to put a time limit on it, though. I’m not getting any younger. Let’s say a year.”

  “A year,” Jane repeated.

  “A year,” said Miriam, nodding. “If within a year you get pregnant and it looks like things are going fine, I won’t say anything to Walter. If not …” She made a motion as if driving a stake through Jane’s heart.

  “A baby,” Jane said, as if sampling the word to see how it tasted.

  “And it has to be Jewish,” said Miriam. “So you’re going to have to convert.”

  “Well, I was taking the class anyway,” Jane said.

  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Miriam said, ignoring her. “I’m telling a vampire that I won’t kill her if she marries my son and gives me a grandchild. Next I’ll be buying a ham for Passover.”

  “Why should I trust you?” Jane asked her.

  “Why should you trust me?” said Miriam. “The vampire is asking me why she should trust me? What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jane said. “I think it’s a reasonable question given the circumstances.”

  “Don’t talk back to your mother-in-law,” Miriam said. “Show some respect for your elders.”

  “Technically, I’m the oldest one around here,” said Jane.

  “Again with the talking back,” Miriam said. She pointed her finger at Jane. “Don’t make me stake you, because you know I will,” she said.

  “All right,” Jane said, holding up her hands. “I give. I give. We have a deal.”

  “All right, then,” said Miriam. “Now get me something to eat. I’m starving. I don’t imagine you can make a Reuben, can you?”

  “It’s three in the morning,” Jane told her. “And Walter is probably very worried about you.”

  Miriam waved her hand. “Please. Walter thinks I go to bed at nine o’clock. How do you think I got out of the house? As long as I’m back before eight he’ll never know I was gone.”

  Jane smiled to herself as she stood up. “I’ll go make that sandwich,” she said. “Yell if you need anything.”

  “A gin and tonic would do wonders for this headache,” Miriam called as Jane went downstairs. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all,” Jane called back.

  In the kitchen Byron was standing by the sink, the broken part of his fang in his hand. “Do you think I can get it fixed?” he asked, holding the broken bit to the jagged stump in his mouth.

  “Maybe if we can find a good vampire dentist,” Jane said. “Or you could file it down.”

  “And be lopsided?” said Byron.

  “Why not?” Jane said. “It will match your limp.”

  “Not funny,” said Byron, putting the piece of fang in his pocket.

  “I’m just teasing,” Jane said as she opened the refrigerator and scouted around for the ingredients for Miriam’s sandwich.

  “How’s the killer?” Byron asked her.

  “Awake,” said Jane. “And she’s made me a most interesting proposition.”

  As she made Miriam’s sandwich she told Byron what the two of them had agreed to. “So, can I get pregnant?” she asked as she slathered mustard on the corned beef.

  “I really don’t know,” admitted Byron. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  “What if the baby is a vampire?”
Jane said. “Apart from the teething issue, what would it be like? We stop aging when we’re turned, so would it always be a newborn? Would it grow to a certain age and then stop?”

  “A vampire embryo,” said Byron. “What a hideous thought.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about all of this when you turned Charlotte,” Jane said. “You must have.”

  “I didn’t think about much, really,” admitted Byron. “I assumed it would all work itself out somehow. And you know what?”

  Jane turned to him. “What?” she said.

  Byron smiled. “It will.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when the baby turns into a bat and flies away,” Jane said. “Which reminds me. You promised to show me how to do that. I think I’ve proved myself worthy of knowing the secret now, don’t you?”

  “I do,” said Byron. “Unfortunately, it’s not possible.”

  “What do you mean?” Jane asked. “You mean you won’t tell me? After everything we’ve been through?”

  “I would tell you if I could,” said Byron. “I mean that we can’t turn into bats. I lied.”

  “Lied?” Jane said. “Why?”

  Byron shrugged. “You needed incentive,” he said. “I thought if I told you that you could turn into a bat you would be more interested in your studies.”

  Jane shook her head. “You insufferable man,” she said. She thrust the plate with the sandwich on it at Byron. “Just for that you get to take this up to her.”

  Byron held up his hands, refusing to take the plate. “I’m not going near her,” he said. “She scares me.”

  “She’s going to scare you even more when I tell her that you’re going to be her grandbaby’s godfather. Now go make nice.”

  Byron took the plate, gave Jane a wounded look, and stomped out. He was halfway up the stairs before Jane remembered the gin and tonic. Rather than call him back, she decided to make it herself.

  She was adding a twist of lemon when someone knocked on the door. Wondering who could be calling at such a late hour, she peered through the peephole, afraid that she might find the police or Charlotte standing there.

  “Walter?” she said when she saw him standing on the porch. “What on earth?” She opened the door.