“And, then, he passed away.”
“Impossible!” Jessica says, “but look, I really must go.” She takes the sweater over her arm and begins to walk away.
“Maybe we’ll see you at dinner?”
“Possibly,” Jessica says, “and tell Father I said hello,” she says, not believing his story of a vampire not being immortal or maybe, she thinks as she walks back to Drew at the car, death is not what he meant by ‘passed on’.
Strolling around Thaddeus, Drew and Jessica fall back in to the feelings they had for one another when they first met – but also like never before. Reminiscing becomes altogether new; yet, the surroundings seem ever more vintage, than simply two years ago -a step back in time.
“I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s rather like we’ve stepped into a time machine - thinking it would go only a few years back - we’ve accidentally slipped into another century, or something. Don’t you get that feeling?” Drew asks.
“It’s called nostalgia,” Jessica says, “a sentimental longing for the past.”
“I wouldn’t say I was longing for the past. Just a weird inkling,” he says, “that some things, around here, are much older than they appear.”
“Yes,” Jessica says, “I get that feeling a lot. Speaking of old friends,” she says, “I thought about calling Ickabod during tea. He loves tea, and it was so good of Ms. Lydia to share it with us.”
“They’d be a cute couple,” Drew says, “is that what you’re thinking? Probably best not to get involved, but certainly call him - and your Father, too - if you like. Let them know we’re settling in and have arrived just fine.”
“Yes, settling in. We are doing that, aren’t we?” she smiles. He puts his arm around her sweater which is hanging loose over her shoulders, fastened only at the neck, flying, sort of like a cape, in the breeze.
“Having a great time!” Drew says, and then Jessica, suddenly, looks like she has seen a ghost. Suddenly, all the paintings, cement busts, and bookplate illustrations of dear, old Thaddeus Preference appear to be walking along the central campus promenade, right next to Drew and Jessica. She gasps, “By Jimeny! it’s true!”
“What’s true?” asks Drew.
“Look at that man,” she decides to tell but not tell. (Aka: a white lie.) “Who does he look like?” Jessica asks. Drew says, “it’s rude to stare.”
“Just look, again, quickly,” Jessica says.
“I don’t know, but he does look familiar,” and then all at once, they both burst out the words, “Old Thaddeus!” And then Jessica’s worry about having to explain why she’d said ‘it’s true’ disappears because Drew exclaims, “It is true, isn’t it?! He looks just like all those illustrations on the inside of the library book covers of Thaddeus Preference. How odd,” he says.
“And, the painting in the Old Hall,” she giggles. They watch as he disappears among students, teachers, and people strolling as tourists this time of year, just like themselves.
“You know,” Jessica says, “I really must call Father when we get back. This is going to be such a fascinating trip. What do you think you would ask Thaddeus Preference, if you could actually talk with him?”
“O, now, that would be fun,” Drew says, “I’d have more than just one question, though. I’d ask what Navagational Design Science was like back in his day. I’d also ask why all the gargoyles about the campus, you know? Just seeing those statues at the Inn, and the history the Inn Keeper described, made me wonder, as we wander around, here, just what all those statues are about, anyway. What would you ask him?”
“Not the same things you would,” Jessica says, thinking how he’s one of the only vampires she knows about who started out as a mortal - until recently - and secretly she thinks she would ask him if he thought it was worth it - immortality, that is - or if life was better as a mortal. She wants to change Drew, over, but she doesn’t. She loves him, just the way he is.
She feels her stomach, pressing her hand against her sweater changing the subject, quite immediately.
“He’s kicked! Our bammypire’s first kick,” she exclaims with joy spreading across her face. She looks at Drew with a smile so sincere, he can’t resist touching her stomach where she indicates.
“Don’t pregnant women hate it when you do this - touch their stomach?”
“I’m not just any pregnant woman, you know, this child isn’t just my child. He’s going to be your child too.”
Drew’s expression grows serious and his voice lowers to almost a whisper, “Jessica, do you think this baby is going to be a mortal?”
“Like you?” she asks.
“Well, yes, like me,” he answers, “because, well?”
She interjects, “Because you wouldn’t know what to do if you were out-numbered, and he was a vampire, like me?”
Drew looks around nervously, “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it, here, people could overhear us,” he says, “and why are you so adamant this child is a boy?” he changes the subject and they begin to finish up their walk across campus, heading back to the Inn. Jessica explains she just knows, that’s all. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but she’s been more than just a little sure of her prediction, she tells him as they walk across the academic landscape dotted with ancient buildings dedicated to science, the arts, humanities, and books.
Jessica thinks it might just be prenatal moodiness, but she’s rather put off by Drew’s question about the baby, so she decides to head back to the bookstore, for a book and some souvenirs - on her own. She insists on a little time to herself and assures Drew she’ll be fine. They decide to meet for dinner at the Inn and share supper with the Inn Keeper, who has been so sweet and interesting to talk with upon their arrival. Drew cheers up at the sight of an old friend on a teaching fellowship and thinks he’ll enjoy the time to catch up while Jessica shops. Time alone is great for couples, unless one of the two is a vampire carrying a child, sustaining two vampire lives on a diet of sausages, blood pudding, and raw fish; and, while Drew and his friend talk about scientific breakthroughs and the updates in Dungeons and Dwarves, Jessica experiences her first vampire/prenatal craving on an innocent, just passing-by member of the bookstore’s staff! It’s ancient stakes and killing kits if she’s caught and held for questioning when the already thin book stacker wanders aimlessly toward a closet, instead of the employee back room. Jessica lunges, fangs out, ruthlessly feeding to nourish - no feelings at all, like a wolf or a night beast of the evil undead - not at all like a cultured vampire whose enchantment purposes aren’t just for lessening vampire quilt from binge feeds, but to quiet the soul of the mortal, alleviating pain and mortal suffering. Like a cruel witch, she reacts upon what she instinctively deems a necessity, with little to no self-control over the dark matter of her needs. Her shock, at seeing what she has done, leads her to flee the scene, leaving the vessel of vital fluids, less than half-drained, but wandering, pale and sickly, nonetheless.
Her concern is evident at her meet-up with Drew, and her worry dominates the evening rather conversation with the Inn Keeper and Drew’s last minute invitation - his old, college friend. After the get together, back in their room, Jessica tells Drew, “I think I might be having prenatal cravings.”
He laughs, “Should I go get you some ice cream? Pickles?” he asks. She doesn’t smile or even lighten up at these words, but instead throws herself onto the bed in a fret.
“No, Drew, not those cravings! Vampire cravings!!” she says. Drew, like all mortals, instinctively raises his hand to his neck and, this time, he looks at her in shock and in fear. She’s never really just come right out and mentioned a bloodthirst.
He gasps, “O, no! What will stop it? Anything?!! You know, besides -that!”
“I need to talk to Father,” Jessica looks perplexed, “maybe he’ll know what to do.”
“Yes,” Drew says, “we’ll call him. Surely your mother had cravings when she was carrying you,” he logically deducts.
“She was
mortal!” Jessica complains.
“O, no!” he says again, “well, we’ll call your Father, at once. I’ll get the Inn Keeper to ring him up, and then you can talk to him,” Drew says, wringing his hands, his eyes are as wide as a mortal who has stepped into the Underworld Castle’s bloodletting room, or found that a shadow moving in the distance is really a vampire’s black cape.
“Calm down, honey, try to be calm,” Jessica frets.
“I am as calm as I can be,” Drew tells her, and then opens the door, “I’ll be right back,” he says and almost runs out through the door, causing Jessica to feel like a bloodthirsty beast in the night, once again.
Chapter Fourteen
Curtailed: A Curbside
Fated Change
Peoneastlies arrives nearly as soon as the phone call from Drew is terminated. She brings blood oranges and tomato juice.
“I couldn’t really think of anything else,” she says, “but if you can, I’ll go out and find - whatever it is – and bring it back to you. This must be awful,” she tells Jessica. Drew is still at the Inn’s front desk, trying to reach Jessica’s Father. He’s spoken with Mattressa several times, but only mentions that he hopes she is doing okay, and asks how soon he can talk with Jessica’s Father. In matters, immortal, he doesn’t quite know what to say.
He hangs up thinking he might have cried, “Help!” but decides to think positive, instead. He musters the courage to go back into the room to help Jessica in any way he can; but, he has a foreboding hunch that this positive attitude just might coincide with some mortal’s famous, last words; and for some reason, he gets the feeling they may once have been recited at this very Inn. A chill runs down his spine, though he clenches his fists and lifts both shoulders in resolve that his prediction is nonsensical; he takes a deep breath, and marches back in toward the wife he loves, determined to find a ‘cure’ for her ‘cravings’. He gulps hard at the cold stare of both vampires, meeting his eyes as he enters the room. Jessica senses his fear, first, and hurries to assure him he’s not the nightly feast for the beings of darkness, collecting inside his vacation suite.
“Try not to worry, Drew,” she says.
“Yes, don’t get yourself upset,” Peoneastlies says, “it’s too early in the pregnancy for that.” Drew gulps, again, as sweat begins to form upon his brow.
“You really must relax,” Jessica tells him, “I’m almost more worried about you, now,” she says.
“How are you feeling?” he asks - his voice slightly higher than usual.
“Don’t answer that, unless it’s fine,” Peoneastlies suggests, smirking.
“Yes, please,” Drew encourages her, “do tell me if I should run for another town.”
Jessica laughs, “O, Drew! I wish I could tell you, but it just doesn’t work that way,” she teases.
“Yes, vampires never tell mortals when they should run, only ‘not to fear’, and how to’ let go’ of their worry.”
Drew suddenly bursts out, “O, ghasts! You two are wickedly funny - you think - but try being me, for once. It isn’t easy to march back in here with a glass of water and a biscuit, you know!”
“Speaking of food,” Jessica says, looking at the open doorway. Drew turns around, quick as a werewolf at night, with a look of fright like he just might see one in the doorway, too; but, it’s Ms. Lydia Headlong with a tray in her hands. The sounds of rustling teacups instantly calm him down.
“I hope this is not an interruption,” she says.
Uptight and anxious Drew jumps to clear off the tea table, “No! No, thank fright you’re here,” he says.
“Just a little herbal mix, not to bother the little one,” she says winking at Jessica, then she exclaims, “what’s the matter? Looks like Drew, here, has seen a ghost.” Both Jessica and Peoneastlies join in to recite, the last words ‘seen a ghost’. He laughs a little, though his teeth appear to be clenched, and all three of the ladies begin to giggle like schoolgirls. They talk up a storm and drink the brew brought to the room while Drew nervously munches on cookies - called biscuits in England - so relieved that Ms. Lydia has joined them in their room.
Everyone enjoys the company, telling stories about their years at Thaddeus, until all anxiousness has subsided in the room, and even Drew feels silly about having been worried. But, the inkling, once again arises, “Famous last words,” he almost hears himself think.
“What, Drew?” Jessica asks sweetly, “you look lost in thought. What were you thinking about?” Now his eyes appear cold as he looks across the room, the words lingering in his awareness, he decides to tell her, and see what she says.
“Famous last words,” he says, across the room, and at once, the room grows quiet. The eyes of Ms. Lydia move to Jessica who blinks twice, staring, not knowing what to say. Peoneastlies looks down and fiddles with her spoon.
“What did you say, dear?” Jessica asks.
“I said, famous last words.” He watches her like a hawk, a piercing stare across the room.
The women shift and Ms. Lydia says, “O, my.” Jessica smiles and turns her head a slight shift to the left.
“What does it mean, dear?’ she asks.
“You tell me,” Drew says.
“Drew, we have company, here. We don’t want to appear strange. Is this an argument?”
He almost laughs, “I just thought I’d say the words that were in my consciousness, and see what you thought about them. What do you think?” he asks. Now Jessica gulps. Peoneastlies says she must get going, and Ms. Lydia says she’d better get back to work. She tells Drew and Jessica that she’ll bring any message her Father sends to the room, but then motions her head toward the cup in Jessica’s hand - as though she’d already found her the cure - then says good-night.
As soon as the door shuts, Jessica begins. She talks about apparitions and mortals, vampires, and the idea about living life without the strict barriers of future and past.
“I like those barriers,” says Drew, finally, after listening quite a long time, astounded at the immense reaction he’s gotten from uttering three small words.
“You do?”
“Yes, I like those barriers very much. Future - for our daughter, or our son. Past - our parents, our college, our relationship - our promise,” he says.
“Our promise,” Jessica repeats, “is this about you thinking I’m - well we - are going to turn you into a vampire?!” she asks, and then starts to laugh.
“Well, yes,” he admits abruptly. “Every time I thought that was nonsense and began to relax, I’d nearly hear the words ‘famous last words’ in my head.” Jessica laughs again, then she stops, suddenly.
“Where are you?” she asks. She turns to the garden doorway and looks out.
“Excuse me,” she says, “I’ll only be a moment.” She walks out into the garden through the French doors and Drew watches as she appears to have a conversation with no one, among the flowers, the statues, and the setting sun in the garden courtyard of the Inn.
Peoneastlies stops Ms. Lydia on her way down the hall.
“You know,” she says, “I’d like to get the recipe for that herbal brew - whatever it was,” a sly smile stretches across her face.
Ms. Lydia whispers, “Alum,” and then she takes a little pinch from the air, “just a pinch!”
“Why on earth would alum get rid of her cravings?”
“It balances the body, and consequently, the soul. She’s settled down now and more in control.”
“Thanks,” Peoneastlies says, “but I think we’d both better stick around. I have a feeling this vacation of theirs isn’t over just yet.”
“I agree,” says Ms. Lydia, “and as far as that kind of business, it’s just been ages!”
“Eons!” jokes Peoneastlies.
“I’ve seen old Thaddeus - out in the courtyard, lately - milling about. And, at first, I wasn’t sure why; but then, I looked at Drew and I’m just guessing some might think his relationship won’t last - but we know, don’t we dear.”
“It will last and last!” adds Peoneastlies.
“I think so. Thaddeus Preference was turned, right here, from mortal to immortal - at this very Inn.”
“Ahh! Well, then it is to be, I imagine, that Drew becomes one of us? Is that what you’re predicting?”
“I am,” Ms. Lydia looks sad for a moment, but then she and Peoneastlies catch each other’s glance and their fangs nearly show at the sides of their smiles and their laughter sounds wicked until they bid each other farewell for the night.
Poor Mr. Preference, that must have been the same kind of laughter he’d heard the night he spent at Eternity Inn - the night to never forget. Left to wander his own campus in search of victims to keep him alive. Jessica is sympathizing with his concern and involvement, on Drew’s behalf, in the courtyard, while he watches the final act of what he never imagined would be taken so far from the three word start to his ‘play’. He’s not quite sure if Jessica is talking with her Father, who might somehow be hiding himself, or if she’s invented an imaginary friend to entertain this second half. Anyway, his mood is lightly amused and Jessica is feeling better, so the bammypire (baby+vampire) that grows inside the amniotic sac is, for now, content.
This month, the first fang buds appear, but there won’t be any ultrasounds, until probably the night of the actual birth, no cause to alert the medical community. Peoneastlies is a shoe-in for the midwife, and Ms. Lydia will be such a great help; which is just what Jessica’s Father decides to discuss with the couple upon his arrival. He suggests they just stay in England - find a little cottage, or a house near the Inn - until the baby arrives. His advice to Jessica is that she give in to natural callings - for the duration of her lending life to another being - and do what she must to keep her health at optimum level. He doesn’t stay long and is gone before the next night falls; but, Jessica and, oddly, Drew both feel better after his calm manner and distinct advice. And, so after he departs, the little town - or so he says he is going to do - to have a look around and do a little vacationing, himself, Jessica and Drew pack up the car and set out for the day to find a house - somewhat near the Inn.
The Nebulizer Potion and the Electric Compass (Vampire DeAngeliuson Book 3) Page 13