Saturday: London
Jane drained the rest of the pint of cider and set it down. Byron, seated across from her at a table in the Tipsy Shrew, bit a pickled egg in half and offered Jane the smaller of the two pieces. She took it and popped it into her mouth.
“I haven’t had a pickled egg in ages,” she said. “I’d forgotten how dreadful they are.”
“Every twenty years or so I have one to remind myself,” said Byron.
Jane took a sip of his ale to wash away the bitter taste of the egg. “How do you suppose he’s handling it?”
Byron shrugged. “How would any man handle being told his father isn’t really his father and that, by the way, his real dad is a vampire?”
“And that’s just the beginning,” said Jane. “Then I have to tell him about myself. His entire world is being turned upside down.”
“Yes, well, perhaps if he’d been told sooner …” Byron said.
Jane wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you even start with that,” she said. “I still can’t believe that it never occurred to you that William might be Walter’s father.”
“Why would it?” Byron asked. “Fletcher is a very common name.”
“Still, it never crossed your mind? Not even in a ‘wouldn’t it be funny if’ kind of way?”
“No,” Byron said. “It really didn’t.”
“I’ll never understand men,” Jane said. “William Fletcher was your almost constant companion from the time you were sixteen. And apparently you’ve kept in touch ever since. Are you saying that not once did he mention to you that he seduced a vampire hunter who shared his last name?”
Byron looked uncomfortable. “He might have mentioned the seducing a vampire hunter part,” he admitted. “But that must have been at least forty years ago. I can hardly be expected to have remembered it.”
“I’m assuming you turned him,” Jane said.
“Surprisingly, no,” said Byron. “That was just a happy accident.”
“How did Miriam find him anyway?” Jane asked, signaling the waitress that she would like another pint.
Byron leaned forward. “Apparently after she married George Fletcher she became interested in researching the family tree. Our William was George’s sixteenth uncle thrice removed or some such thing. When Miriam couldn’t find a death certificate for him, or really any information on him at all, she became suspicious and did some more digging. This brought her to London, where she managed to track William down. Her plan was to stake him, but as you know he’s a man of considerable charms.”
“So I’ve heard,” Jane said.
“William managed to seduce her,” Byron continued. “And apparently it took, if you catch my meaning.”
The waitress arrived with Jane’s drink and took away the empty glass. Jane held the glass in her hand, feeling the coolness of the sides and thinking.
“I assume George never knew,” she said.
“I would think not,” said Byron. “That would certainly be awkward. Can you see Miriam sitting him down and saying, ‘Dear, the bad news is that I’ve had an affair. The good news is that he’s an ancestor. Oh, and by the way, the bairn has a good chance of being a vampire.’ ”
Jane almost choked on her cider.
“What?” Byron asked.
“The bairn,” Jane said. “I mean Walter. He’s not a vampire.”
“More’s the pity,” said Byron.
“You’re missing the point,” Jane said. “This proves that vampires and humans can … well, you know.”
“Make bairns?” Byron suggested.
“Precisely,” Jane said. “What’s more, it apparently doesn’t mean the child will turn out like us. And Miriam knew all along and didn’t say a word. That horrible old woman!”
“Now, now,” said Byron. “Can you blame her for being suspicious of our kind after what William did?”
Jane started to reply, but stopped. “I suppose not,” she said after a few moments. “Poor Walter,” she added. “What must he think?”
“You’ve told people about yourself before,” Byron said.
“Just Lucy,” Jane said. “And she’ll believe anything. I mean, she’s willing to believe anything. Walter’s different.”
“Is he?” asked Byron. “Maybe you just need to give him a chance.”
Jane shook her head. “It may be too late,” she said. “I’ve been lying to the poor man for years. His mother has been lying to him for years. He’ll probably never trust a woman for as long as he lives.”
“That will take him far,” Byron remarked. “And speaking of the devils, here are William and Miriam now.”
Walter’s parents came to the table and sat down, Miriam next to Jane and William next to Byron. Both of them looked exhausted.
“Well?” Byron said.
Miriam looked up. “It went fairly well until we got to the vampire part,” she said.
“We considered not telling him about that, but it would have been rather difficult to explain why his father is the same age he is,” William added. “Also, he was a wee bit curious about the fact that his mum was kidnapped by Charlotte Brontë.”
“He must think we’re all mad,” Jane said.
“I don’t think he knows what to think,” said Miriam. “He’s probably hoping it’s all a dream.”
“Where is the boy now?” Byron asked.
“Taking a walk,” said Miriam. “With Lilith. She seems to soothe him for some reason.”
“That’s because he can’t hear her talk,” Jane said. She hesitated before asking, “Does he know about me?”
William shook his head. “We thought it best to leave that to you,” he said.
“He thought it best,” Miriam said, cocking her head at William. “I was all for getting everything out in the open.”
“I guess I should go find him,” Jane said. “Do you have any idea where he went?”
“Kensington Gardens,” William answered. “He said he wanted to see the statue of Peter Pan.”
“It was his favorite book when he was a boy,” said Miriam.
Jane stood up. “Wish me luck,” she said.
It wasn’t difficult to find Walter. For one thing, he was letting Lilith walk on her own three legs, which meant they couldn’t walk terribly quickly. For another, he was exactly where William had said he would be, near the statue of Peter Pan. As Lilith sniffed around Walter stood looking at the figure of the little boy who never grew up.
“If you’re looking for Neverland, I believe it’s second star to the right and straight on to morning,” Jane said.
Walter turned around. “You know they added the word ‘star’ for the Disney film,” he said. “It’s not in the book.”
“I know,” Jane said. “I tried to get him to put it in, but he wouldn’t have it.”
Walter, apparently either not hearing her or not registering the meaning of her words, went back to looking at the statue.
“I used to pretend I was Peter,” he said. “My mother bought me a cap like his and I found a cardinal feather in the yard and stuck it in the band. I even had a little bell I carried around and rang whenever Tinker Bell was part of the game I was playing.”
“You had quite an imagination even then,” Jane remarked.
Walter looked over at her. “My mother told me a pretty unbelievable story today,” he said.
“Did she?” Jane said.
“She claims she’s a vampire hunter,” said Walter. “And William, he’s supposedly a vampire. Also, he’s my father.”
Jane tread carefully, unsure of how solid the ground on which she now walked was. “You do resemble him,” she said.
To her surprise, Walter laughed. “Oh, and Suzu was really Charlotte Brontë. I forgot that part.”
Jane waited for him to question her about her role in the drama that had unfolded in the pet cemetery, but he didn’t. She wondered if perhaps he’d forgotten. He seemed transfixed by the statue of Peter Pan.
“What would you say if your mother sat you down and told you that story?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Jane thought for a while before speaking.
“Did you read the Narnia books when you were small?” she asked Walter.
“Yes,” he answered. “I loved them. Why?”
“Do you remember in the first book when Lucy has told the others that she’s found Narnia inside the wardrobe? They don’t believe her, so they go to the old Professor and ask him what he thinks. He tells them that there are only three possible explanations for what she’s said—she’s telling lies, she’s mad, or she’s telling the truth.”
“I remember that,” Walter said. “And they decide that since they’ve never known her to tell lies, and she isn’t crazy, then she must be telling the truth.”
“Right,” said Jane. “Well, suppose we apply those same rules to what your mother told you today. Have you ever known your mother to lie?”
“Not until today. She never even tried to get me to believe in the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny or Santa Claus. She never let me believe in them. She always told me that I should know the difference between what was real and what was imaginary.”
“All right,” said Jane. “And although it pains me to say this, I don’t think she’s mad. Which leaves the possibility that she’s telling the truth.”
Walter shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. Jane, she wants me to believe that vampires are real.”
“How do you know they aren’t?”
“Everybody knows they aren’t,” said Walter.
“Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t?” she asked him. “Some of the most unbelievable things are real. Did you know there’s a type of sea slug that eats anemones and then uses their stinging cells for its own defense? If you ask me, that’s far weirder than the notion of vampires. And what about the platypus? It’s the Frankenstein’s monster of the animal world, as if somebody sewed together parts of a beaver, a crocodile, and a duck and then added some poison sacs for good measure.”
“If I didn’t know better, I might think you want me to believe in vampires.”
“I’m just saying it’s an option,” Jane replied.
“Let me ask you this,” Walter said. “What would you think if your mother told you that vampires were real?”
“I wish she had,” Jane said, snorting. “Then I wouldn’t be here right now. Not that I don’t want to be here,” she added. “I mean I wouldn’t be here the way I am, although even if she had told me about vampires I wouldn’t have known Byron was one, so it probably all would have turned out like this anyway.”
“Are you going to start making sense anytime soon?” Walter asked.
“Walter,” Jane said, looking him in the eyes, “your mother isn’t lying to you. She is a vampire hunter, and William is a vampire. I know this because I’m a vampire. So are a couple of other people you know, but I’ll let them tell you themselves. We’re really not supposed to out one another.”
Having said it, Jane now wondered why she had worried so much about it. The words had come out fairly easily, and despite her fears she already felt immensely better.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she said. “I know I should have. But now you know why I said no all those times you asked me out.”
Walter looked at her for long enough that some of her relief began to turn to worry. “I can’t believe you,” he said. “Here I am freaking out about the fact that my mother might very well be a raving lunatic, and you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Jane protested. “I’m telling you the truth.”
Walter laughed. “You’re a vampire?” he said.
Jane nodded. “Yes.”
“You drink blood?”
She cringed. “Only when I have to. And never from you. I want you to know that.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Walter. “Anything else I should know? Is Lucy a werewolf? Maybe old Sherman at the paper is really Satan in disguise?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Jane said.
“I’m being ridiculous? Are you listening to yourself? Have you heard anything you’ve said in the last five minutes?”
“This really isn’t going well.”
Jane looked down and saw Lilith looking up at her.
“Don’t you start,” she told the Chihuahua.
“Who are you talking to?” Walter asked. “The dog? Wait. Let me guess. She’s really an alien. From Mars or from Jupiter?”
“I told you it wasn’t going well,” Lilith said. “You should have quit while you were ahead.”
“I was never ahead,” said Jane.
“Would you please stop it?” Walter said. “You know, as odd as you can be sometimes, you’ve always been there for me. Now, when I need you the most, this is how you behave? I can’t believe you, Jane.”
He turned and started to walk away. Lilith trotted beside him, using her strange hop-skip-hop technique.
“Walter,” Jane called.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
Jane started to cry. “Walter,” she said. “Please come back.”
Walter whirled around. “You want me to believe that you’re a vampire?” he said. “Then bite me.”
Jane stared at him, unable to speak.
“Go on,” Walter said. He tilted his head, exposing his neck. “Go on, Jane. Bite me.”
Jane closed her eyes. No, no, no, no, no, she thought. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.
“Did you hear me, Jane?” Walter yelled. “I told you to bite me!”
Jane opened her eyes.
“I heard you,” she said, and her fangs clicked into place.