Silence followed. Jo waited, absorbing the smell of human blood. How sweet it was.
Finally, he stuttered, “S…S…Simpson. Henry Simpson.”
“And where can I find this Henry Simpson?” she said softly.
“Market Lane. Third house.”
Market Lane was near the old Backbird farm, only two miles from there. She could be at the man’s door in less than fifteen minutes. Satisfied, she took a half-step back and lowered the ax. Seeing an opportunity, Cleaver swung out a leg. Jo stumbled, then fell, the ax landing with a clatter a few feet away. He pulled a stake, long and vicious, from his pocket, hurled it at her with all his might. It sped through the air, quicker than a bullet, and landed in her arm. She didn’t even notice, as she threw herself on him and knocked him to the ground, her eyes kindling as the scent of blood pervaded her nostrils.
She had meant to leave him there, bleeding but alive, to hunt the next victim and the next victim until she finally held Dr. Bang’s life in her hands. But now she had the smell of blood in her nose, a smell too sweet to resist and she didn’t see why she should. She owed this man nothing, not her parents’ humility, not Beth’s goodness, not her own abstention. If anything, the debt ran the other way, and in exchange for her sister’s life, she would take his and feed her own soul on the vibrant red blood that, in sustaining him, sustained her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ALL ALONE
It was easy to swear eternal vengeance when drinking the blood of your enemy, and anger and ire were purified by sweet purpose. But when the desperate pleas of your foe were silent, the beloved victim gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep.
How could she track down a heartless killer when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all moonlight, and some all shadow. It was not fair, for she tried more than Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble, and hard work.
Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending her whole life chasing Dr. Bang down the same endless alley. “I can’t do it. I wasn’t meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if somebody doesn’t come and help me,” she said to herself, when her first efforts failed and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable.
But the inevitable wasn’t wholly inevitable, she told herself during those terrible days, when she lay in her coffin unsleeping and some part of her spirit held on to hope. The clue the kitten farmer had given her yielded no results, for there was no such human as Henry Simpson who existed in Concord or Massachusetts. She had been misled by a lie, and there was nothing she could do about it now. In her moment of weakness she had destroyed her only source of information. Oh, was there any more fitting retribution for her slip from grace than this! She could not admit to her parents that she had strayed from the humanitarian path, for she was too ashamed to have given her bosom enemy such rein as to devour a man.
If the folly extended only to the death of the villain, then she might have confessed all and sought absolution, but its ramifications reached far beyond that and showed a sinful lack of foresight in not considering for a moment that information obtained under duress might in fact be wrong information. She understood now why Mr. Dashwood so faithfully applied his truth-telling serum, for what vampire save herself was foolish enough to accept the word of a human? Humans promised honesty and delivered lies, their fluid mortal brains pulling last-minute facts from the air like rabbits from a magician’s hat. If only she had held on to her temper or called upon some of Beth’s innate sweetness, she would have handled the situation more astutely, perhaps successfully executing Professor Bhaer’s charm method to elicit the much-desired lead. But she had been reckless and incautious and now had nothing to act upon.
These thoughts tortured her as she went about Beth’s humble, wholesome duties and delights, plying the brooms and dishcloths that Beth had presided over. As she used them, Jo found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth’s orderly ways, and giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cozy, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she didn’t know it till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the hand…
“You thoughtful creeter, you’re determined we shan’t miss that dear lamb ef you can help it. We don’t say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for’t, see ef He don’t.”
As comfortable as a well-tended home was it could never be a substitute for well-executed retribution, and she felt rebuked by Beth’s housewifely spirit that seemed to linger around the little mop and the old brush, never thrown away. “I have to do something,” said Jo, knowing there were other Beths in the world who would need rescuing, for what villain would destroy a potion as powerful as the one that killed Beth after employing it so perfectly? A new chilly death was in the air and it made Jo feel cold just thinking about it.
So she returned to Gentleman Jackson’s salon and presented herself to the vampire gentleman himself early one evening in hopes of regaining her purpose. Although she no longer wholeheartedly subscribed to his methods, she profoundly believed in his mission and knew she had something to offer in return for all the help provided in the past and all the help he would provide in the future. As she spoke, she could hear the whisper of Beth’s angel wings and knew she was doing the right thing.
Gentleman Jackson listened to her proposal with quiet interest, confining himself to an uncritical nod when she confessed to eating an information source before confirming the integrity of the data. He knew each generation was the same and every member had to experience something for herself before learning the lessons of her elders. So be it, he thought, surprised again by the young vampire woman before him, who seemed to encapsulate all that one desired in a salon cadet save for her gender, which couldn’t be helped. He didn’t know how his instructors would take to her proposal, but when she demonstrated her skills for herself, skills he’d thought long lost to previous generations, like the Transylvanian language itself, he could not deny the necessity of giving it a try. Every year the slayers grew more pernicious, every year they invented new ways of killing them, as if fire, stake, and decapitation weren’t enough, and every year the salon took measure and adapted. This was merely another adaptation.
Jo taught her first class in transmogrification with her parents’ blessing, for they were happy to see her preparing lesson plans at her desk, scratching away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression. Her students weren’t as pleased to receive the lessons, for she was a slip of a girl who had never given instruction before and in the beginning she didn’t know how to go about it. She stood in the front by the blackboard reading her notes, which caused their attentions to wander and soon all sixteen cadets were engaged in a loud debate about the dubious benefits of toad blood. To regain their attention, she turned into a bat and flew high above them and even landed a small grayish-green missile on the head of the student who had started the conversation.
After that little demonstration, they were putty in her hands and she deftly taught them how to transform themselves into bats. Few of the other instructors believed she would be able to succeed in her endeavor and they stood in the doorway transfixed as Mr. Arnold Petrie shook a pair of black wings from his back and turned his feet into tiny claws. Then her teaching schedule doubled, as she added a second course for instructors, as it was deemed unseemly for students to have a skill that the teachers lacked. In exchange for the lessons, they pursued the cat breeder link, providing Jo with fresh leads she knew she didn’t deserve. But she was grateful for the
m and she followed them smartly, using all the resources at her disposal and keeping her temper firmly in check. She chased one name after another until finally she knew her villain to be the dastardly Dr. Bang. She’d assumed it was he all along but it was still a shock to have it confirmed, for to hear his name was to be instantly overcome with regret. If she had apprehended him in New York as she’d set out to do, then Beth would still be alive. It was futile, she knew, to brood over things she couldn’t change, but it was nearly impossible to let them go. So she struggled nightly with her regret and devoted herself fully to capturing the evil Dr. Bang, whom she knew she would apprehend this time, for she was older and wiser. In the interim, she taught her students and kept home and spent time with her family and remembered Beth.
Working at the salon kept Mr. Bhaer foremost in her mind, for every time she talked of the star-dappled sky, she thought of him, and when she stumbled across a bundle of old exercise books, she turned them over, and relived that pleasant time at kind Mrs. Kirke’s. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message written in the Professor’s hand, her lips began to tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the friendly words, as they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart.
“Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come.”
“Oh, if he only would! So kind, so good, so patient with me always, my dear old Fritz. I didn’t value him half enough when I had him, but now how I should love to see him, for everyone seems going away from me, and I’m all alone.”
And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag bag, and cried, as if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.
Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SURPRISES
Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth’s little red pillow, planning lessons, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad, for tomorrow was the six-month anniversary of Beth’s death and she was thinking how fast the time went and how little she seemed to have accomplished.
Jo must have fallen asleep, for suddenly Laurie’s ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial, lifelike ghost, leaning over her with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn’t like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad…
“She could not think it he,” and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully…
“Oh my Teddy! Oh my Teddy!”
“Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?”
“Glad! My blessed boy, words can’t express my gladness,” she said, her arms tightly around him, then pulling back to look at him, just look, for it had been such a long time, and she noticed the difference right away. It wasn’t merely in his complexion, which was now an unearthly white, and the fangs that hung like branches, but in his manner and bearing and the glow that seemed to blaze from within. In her joy for him she felt a speck of sadness for herself, for the innocent human boy was gone and in his place this worldly vampire.
She knew in that instant that Amy was back, too, for only she could have wrought such a huge change in her dear friend. Knowing as she did how Laurie had rushed to Nice to comfort Amy when news of Beth’s death reached them, she still never imagined that things had progressed so far so fast. But her mother had hoped for it, ever since Amy wrote to say she had refused a rich Englishman’s proposal of marriage. Marmee had felt sure then that something better than what Jo called the “mercenary spirit” had come over her youngest daughter, and a hint here and there in her letters made her suspect that love and Laurie would win the day.
And clearly they had.
Lucky Laurie, to have finally achieved his lifelong goal of becoming a vampire and to have found his soul mate along the way! Jo didn’t doubt for a moment that the two young lovers were perfectly suited.
“Where’s Amy?”
“Your mother has got her down at Meg’s. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches.”
“Your what?” cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him.
“Oh, the dickens! Now I’ve done it,” and he looked so guilty that Jo was down on him like a flash.
“You’ve gone and got married!”
“Yes, please, but I never will again,” and he went down upon his knees, with a penitent clasping of hands, and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph.
“Actually married?”
“Very much so, thank you.”
“Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next?” and Jo fell into her seat with a gasp. Married after mere weeks as a vampire, perhaps a few months at the most? It was unheard of. She couldn’t believe Amy had moved so quickly. Usually a year passed at least while the novice gained control of his new impulses and desires.
“A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation,” returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with satisfaction.
“What can you expect, when you take one’s breath away, creeping in like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it.”
“Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to barricade.”
Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said in a cordial tone, “The old pillow is up garret, and we don’t need it now. So, come and ’fess, Teddy.”
“How good it sounds to hear you say ‘Teddy’! No one ever calls me that but you,” and Laurie sat down with an air of great content.
“What does Amy call you?”
“My lord.”
“That’s like her. Well, you look it,” and Jo’s eye plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever.
The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless, a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of species. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity…
“Don’t I look like a married man and the head of a family?”
“Not a bit, and you never will. You’ve grown paler and fangier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever.”
“Now really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect,” began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely, for the first time ever he felt on equal footing with her.
“How can I, when the mere idea of you, vampired and settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can’t keep sober!” answered Jo, smiling all over her face, so infectiously that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion. The change wasn’t nearly as radical as Jo thought it would be.
“It’s no use your going out to get Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise.”
“Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened. I’m pining to know.”
“Well, I did it to please Amy,” began Laurie, with a twinkle that made Jo exclaim…
“Fib number one. Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if you can, sir.”
“Now she’s beginning to marm it. Isn’t it jolly to hear her?” said Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. “It’s all the same, you know, she and I being one. We did it
up proper, I assure you, none of this rackety business of Meg and John, doing it on the fly in a fit of anger. Oh, no, we planned it for days before we actually took the plunge. We did it at the American consul’s, in Paris, they have the loveliest garden and they planted me there under a rose bush. It was a quiet biting, of course, for even in our happiness we didn’t forget dear little Beth.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Only for a moment and Amy was very gentle with me and I knew what I was getting so I didn’t mind one bit. I can’t believe I’m finally one of you. There’s no keeping me out of anything, now, dear. I’m going to become a defender, too, and learn everything you know and help Grandfather run the business. I feel strong and invincible and can’t wait to get started.”
Jo was little surprised by his attitude, for immortality had always suited the good fellow, but granting it never suited her. She couldn’t say what about the act felt so repellent to her but there it was and it was no use denying it: You couldn’t give eternal life without taking something away and she couldn’t bear to take anything from anyone.
As if he guessed her thoughts Laurie held her hand, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before…
“Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we’ll put it by forever. I understand now what it means and why you couldn’t do it. You never had the heart for it, for it’s such an important thing, and of course Amy could do it. I think it worked out the way it was meant to be, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent, and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Will you believe it, and go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another?”
Little Vampire Women Page 21