Jane spent the next day looking for Asher's coffin, putting garlic in his bed and avoiding being caught. Not your typical day at a house party.
She ran into Clair twice and even had a nice luncheon with her, which only increased her guilt. But no matter her friendship with Clair, her guestly duty or attraction to the vampire, Jane's destiny had been mapped out long before she was even born.
Besides, she owed the Prince of Death absolutely nothing. He was the unprincipled sovereign of darkness, and she was certainly no minion of his. He was a blood-guzzling creature of the night, and she got violently ill at the sight of blood. He slept in a coffin. She slept with five pillows. He bit people when he was hungry. She bit her nails when she was nervous. The only things they really had in common were their deep affections for Clair and their distaste for garlic.
No, she had no right to feel anything but revulsion for the devastatingly handsome earl. Jane knew that clearly. Asher had to be destroyed, and by her, with no mistakes.
Yet she also knew that perpetrating the damning deed would damage something inside her irrevocably.
Finally, dusty and exhausted as she was, Jane's knack for solving puzzles came through. She had searched everywhere else, leaving only the large cellar. It had to be right. And she'd made her discovery not a moment too soon, she thought, the late afternoon rays of the sun flitting through the thick glass windows of the cellar hallway; soon the earl would be rising for the night.
Ignoring her guilt and the ugly little gargoyle that decorated the archway of the room's large wooden door, Jane took out the large flask she'd hidden in her handbag and poured some holy water from it into a bucket. Carefully she placed the metal bucket above the partially open door, balancing it upon the perch. Jane reasoned that when Asher pushed on the door, it would spring open and cause the bucket to fall. The blessed water would then cascade down over the master vampire, melting him.
Regret flowed from her like a steady stream out to sea, and Jane fervently wished she weren't feeling so wishy-washy about this whole watered-down affair. She was really something of a watering pot.
Already she could feel the tears in her eyes, and she was only waiting for Asher to appear. She didn't want to view his demise, but it was only fitting. She herself should be the one to clean up the mess, not leave parts of a waterlogged vampire for Clair to deal with. Jane knew it was the least she could do after so grossly insulting her friend's hospitality.
Hearing a noise in the other room, Jane bit her lip. Her heart pounded furiously. She hated this! She felt like a wicked witch. In her mind she could hear him screaming, "I'm melting! I'm melting!"
Hearing the slight scratching noise again, Jane called out, "Stop!"
Scurrying into the adjacent room, she quickly scanned the floor and then the door. No saturated pieces of Lord Asher were disintegrating into a pool of holy water; there was only a small mouse sniffing at some spilled crumbs along the floor. Jane was so relieved, she began to giggle like a schoolgirl. Her laughter was slightly hysterical as she glanced up at the trap still precariously perched upon the doorsill. But no, Asher hadn't yet kicked the bucket.
Happiness filled her being. Jane felt as light as air. She hadn't betrayed either Asher or Clair.
A noise from behind startled Jane, causing her to spin and back up. An orange-furred tomcat had sprung into the room. Unfortunately, the slight bump Jane gave the door was enough to send the holy water tumbling down, bucket and all, drenching her.
So, with a look of pure disbelief on her face, Jane stood in the doorway sopping wet, an empty bucket at her feet and a slight bump on the top of her head where the bucket had struck.
"Curses. Foiled again," she muttered.
If she didn't know better, Jane would swear that she had been cursed, for all the bad luck that she'd had in trying to get rid of the earl. Or maybe it was good luck. Maybe Asher had a guardian angel at his side—if vampires could have guardian angels. Could they? She rubbed her aching head. Another thing to puzzle out. When would she ever find time to answer all the questions she'd stored away for a rainy day?
Picking up the empty bucket, Jane quickly made her way to the servants' stairs in the back of the house. She wanted no one to see her looking like a drowned cat. But just as she reached the landing, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her.
"Oh no! Please let it be anybody but him," Jane muttered in disbelief. She turned slowly, for she was sure she recognized the booted step. Humiliated, she saw the one vampire she did not wish to see. He was handsome, dry, and most assuredly had some pact with the Devil. How else could he look so good and remain so safe?
Asher stifled a smile, his lips twitching only slightly as he took in the very bedraggled Jane and her bucket. She must have been fishing and fallen into the pond.
"Why, Miss Jane, what calamity has befallen you now? You appear to be all wet."
"Your powers of observation are truly remarkable," Jane snapped. Once again, the earl had caught her at her worst. She lifted her chin and ground her teeth. "And I grow excessively tired of know-it-all males."
Then, gathering what little dignity she had left, she picked up her waterlogged skirts and carried them proudly up the steps, tiny drops of water following in her wake—along with Asher's chortles.