Saturday: London

WALTER OPENED HIS EYES, SAT UP AND GROANED.

“What happened?” he asked.

Jane, who was sitting on the side of the bed, handed him a glass of water and two aspirin. “Take these,” she said.

Walter swallowed the pills and handed back the glass. “I feel as if someone hit me in the head with a line drive,” he said, rubbing his temples.

“It’s the aftereffects from being bitten,” said Jane. “They’ll wear off in a couple of hours.”

“What bit me?” Walter asked. “It wasn’t Lilith, was it? I know she can be a little snippy, but—”

“It wasn’t Lilith,” said Jane. “It was me.”

“You?” Walter said. “Why would you bite me?”

“You’ll remember soon enough,” said Jane. “I didn’t glamor you, so eventually it will all come back. Probably in bits and pieces.”

Walter shut his eyes and groaned. His fingers went to his neck, where the two small puncture wounds caused by Jane’s bite had already healed. “It hurts,” he said.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Jane. “But you wanted proof.”

“Proof of what?” Walter asked, leaning back against the pillows.

“Try to remember,” Jane told him. “Just relax your thoughts.”

Walter took a deep breath, then another. He kept his eyes closed, but Jane could see that he was concentrating. Beneath the lids his eyes moved back and forth. After a minute or two his eyes flew open and he stared at Jane.

“You’re a vampire!” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” Jane said.

“Everything my mother told me is true,” Walter said, looking confused and hurt and angry all at the same time. “My father—”

“Is a vampire too,” said Jane. “And your mother is a hunter. Not the best pairing imaginable, but these things happen.”

Walter tried to get up but wobbled and lay back down. Jane moved closer, but Walter recoiled from her. She felt her heart break a little bit as she saw him move away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t the way I wanted you to find out.”

Walter laughed bitterly. “As if there’s a good way to find out?” he said.

“No,” said Jane. “I suppose there isn’t.”

“Who else knows?” Walter asked her.

“Lucy,” Jane said. “Ned and Ted at the shop. Brian.”

“So I’m the last one to find out,” said Walter.

“Not the last one,” Jane said. “Ben doesn’t know.”

“Ben has known you less than a year,” said Walter. “I’ve known you for ten. And Ben hasn’t been living with you for the past nine months and isn’t your fiancé. So excuse me if that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Jane set the glass on the nightstand. “I really don’t know what to say,” she told Walter.

“Am I one of you now?” he asked.

Jane shook her head. “No. I didn’t take very much. Just enough to make you believe.”

Walter grunted. “I suppose I should be thankful for that,” he said.

“This probably isn’t the best time to mention this,” Jane said. “But you are half vampire.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Walter said. “Do you know how ridiculous this all sounds?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” said Jane. “I know it took me a long time to accept it after I was changed.”

“And when did that happen?” Walter asked.

Jane wondered if she should lie, then decided against it. There’s been too much lying already, she thought. He might as well know everything.

“Eighteen sixteen,” she said. “And there’s something else you might as well know. My real name isn’t Jane Fairfax, it’s Jane Austen.”

Walter stared at her.

“I know it isn’t terribly original,” Jane said. “At first I considered Sophronia Kindleysides, but it seemed a bit much. Besides, I was already used to Jane, so changing just the surname was easiest.”

“I suppose you’re the Jane Austen,” Walter said.

Jane nodded. “I’m afraid I am.”

“No wonder my mother doesn’t like you,” said Walter. “She hates your books.”

“Yes,” Jane said. “She’s made that clear on several occasions.”

“She thinks your characters are boring,” Walter continued.

“I believe I’ve heard her say as much,” Jane said, keeping an even tone.

“She also says there are far too many coincidences in your plots and—”

“I know,” Jane said. “And she’s one to talk. Too many coincidences! What about her plot? A vampire hunter marries a man who just happens to have a vampire in the family? She gets pregnant by that vampire and forty years later her child falls in love with another vampire? Oh, and the father of that child just happens to be the best friend of another vampire who lives in the same town? There are far more coincidences in that story than in any of mine.”

“William’s best friend is Brian,” Walter said, catching up with her. “Are you saying Brian is a—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, yes, he’s a vampire. And he happens to be Lord Byron. I know I said we aren’t supposed to out one another, but I think as far as this is concerned he owes me. After all, he’s the one who turned—”

“Brian?” Walter interrupted. “Brian turned you. But I thought he was—”

“He is,” said Jane. “Well, he mostly is. Back then he was a little less discriminating.”

“And my father?” Walter asked. “Who is he really?”

“Oh, he’s just William,” said Jane. “Well, not just William. He’s pretty extraordinary in his own right. Did you know Byron selected him to be his companion after seeing him working in the fields? He was extraordinarily good-looking. It’s no wonder Byron fell in love with—”

“La la la la la,” Walter wailed, putting his hands over his ears.

“Sorry,” Jane said. “I suppose thinking about that would be a trifle unsettling.”

“What?” said Walter. “You mean the fact that apparently both my fiancée and my father slept with the same man? Yes, I think ‘unsettling’ is a good way to describe it.”

“To be fair, he is Lord Byron,” Jane said. “I don’t know many people who haven’t slept with him at one time or another.”

Walter held up his hands and Jane stopped. She wasn’t doing a very good job of making things better. They sat in silence for a time as Jane waited for Walter to say something. But he didn’t. He just looked out the window. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“So how does this work?” he said. “Do I have to become a vampire?”

“No,” Jane answered. “You don’t.”

“But I’m guessing that you don’t get any older,” said Walter. “I mean, your body doesn’t. You stay the same, right?”

Jane nodded. “That’s right.”

“I see,” Walter said.

Jane knew that he was thinking about what it would mean for her to stay the same while he grew old and eventually died. “I thought there was a chance that I might be able to become mortal again,” she said. “I was going to try it.”

Walter looked over at her. “But you decided not to?”

“It turned out to be a legend,” Jane said. “An unfortunate bit of irony there, I suppose.”

“Is that what Suzu was talking about in the cemetery?” Walter asked. “That iron spike?”

“It’s called Crispin’s Needle,” Jane said. She didn’t correct him regarding Suzu’s identity, hoping that perhaps he hadn’t heard or didn’t remember. “But it’s a fake. We made it to fool her.”

“To save my mother,” said Walter.

“Yes,” Jane said. “To save Miriam.”

“Thank you for that,” Walter said.

“Well, she is my mother-in-law,” Jane reminded him. Then she remembered that they were yet to be married. “Will be my mother-in-law,” she said. “Might be my mother-in-law.”

Walter said nothing. Jane, unable to stand the uncertainty, finally asked, “Where does this leave us?”

Walter didn’t look at her. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Do you still love me?” asked Jane.

“Yes,” Walter answered. “I do.”

“It’s the vampire thing, isn’t it?” said Jane.

“Strangely enough, no,” Walter replied. “It’s that you didn’t think you could tell me the truth. And you were going to marry me without telling me.”

“I was hoping I could find a solution,” Jane said. “That way you would never have had to know.”

Walter took her hand. “But don’t you see how that’s even worse?” he said. “We should know everything about each other—the good and the bad. If there’s something about yourself you feel you have to hide away from me, that’s always going to be between us. There’s always going to be that one hidden room you won’t let me into. And you’ll be so worried that someday I might accidentally open the door to that room that you’ll never be able to fully be yourself. You’ll always be on guard. And the worst part is that the person you’ll be afraid of is the one who loves you the most.”

Jane felt tears forming in her eyes. “But you know now,” she said. “I don’t have to keep that door closed anymore.”

Walter squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t open the door on your own,” he said. “It was forced open.”

Jane sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Ben can still marry us,” she said. “Tomorrow. We can start fresh. No more secrets.”

Walter looked into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.

Jane began to cry. “Please, Walter,” she said. “Don’t say no. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Walter took her in his arms and held her tightly. “I love you more than anything in the world,” he whispered. “But I don’t know.”

They stayed that way for a long time, Walter just holding Jane while she wept. Eventually he let go and she wiped her eyes.

“I’m going to go now,” Jane said. “I’m going to go away and give you time to think. Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock I’ll be standing in the White Tower, waiting for you. If you still want to marry me, you meet me there.”

“And if I don’t come?” asked Walter.

Jane forced a smile. “La la la la la,” she said, putting her hands over her ears. She took them away again and kissed Walter lightly on the lips. Then she stood up and without another word left the room.

Byron found her a few hours later, sitting in the American Bar listening to the piano player and drinking gin and tonics. She’d had three, and was working on her fourth.

“Lucy has been looking all over for you,” Byron said as he sat down at her table. “She’s worried.”

“You told her what happened?” Jane asked.

“An abbreviated version of the story,” Byron said. “Dare I ask how things went with our dear Walter?”

Jane took a long sip from her glass. “I told him that I’ll be waiting for him in the Tower tomorrow morning at nine,” she said.

“How typically passive-aggressive of you,” said Byron.

Jane glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for you,” she warned.

“Don’t worry,” Byron said. “I haven’t come to torment you. I came to give you a wedding present.”

He laid a long, thin black velvet box on the table. Jane looked at it. “Is it a necklace?” she asked hopefully.

“Open it,” Byron said.

Jane picked up the box, which was surprisingly heavy, and opened it. Inside, nestled in a narrow trench pressed into the velvet, was a piece of metal about nine inches long. One end came to a very fine point, while the other was rounded.

“It’s Crispin’s Needle,” Byron informed her before she could ask.

Jane, confused, set the box down. “The Needle is a myth,” she said. “You told me as much yourself.”

“Yes, well, I lied,” said Byron. “It very much exists, and there it is. Happy returns of the day and all that.”

“I don’t understand,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

“Do you remember when I told you about Ambrose?” Byron asked.

“The vampire who turned you,” Jane said. “Of course.”

“He gave it to me,” said Byron. “It was given to him by Crispin himself. He wanted me to use it. Even though he turned me, he thought the greatest gift he could give me was to restore my humanity. He begged me to do it. But I didn’t want to be human.”

Jane reached out her hand and held it over the Needle.

“You can touch it,” Byron said. “It won’t harm you. It only works if you drive it into your heart.”

Jane touched her finger to the nail. It was cool to the touch.

“Is it really made from the nails used to crucify Christ?” she asked.

“Who knows?” said Byron. “You know what happens with these things—someone makes up a story and then someone else adds something to it, and before long you’ve got a hammer that was forged from the tongue of a frost dragon.”

Jane ran her finger down the length of the Needle. She let her fingertip rest against the point, pressing down until she could feel the Needle just begin to pierce her flesh. She pulled her hand away.

“You’ve had this all along,” she said. “And you’ve never told me about it. Why?”

Byron looked at her, and Jane was surprised to see sadness in his eyes. “Can’t you guess?” he asked. “I was afraid you would want to use it.”

Jane couldn’t speak. She understood exactly what Byron meant. Hadn’t she been doing the same thing by hiding from Walter the fact that, should he choose it, she could grant him eternal life? Wasn’t this the same reason why she hadn’t offered to turn her sister Cassie, or anyone else from her family? I was afraid they would say yes, she told herself.

“Are you going to use it?” Byron asked her.

Jane still couldn’t speak. She simply shook her head and shrugged.

“Tell you what,” said Byron. “I’ll be at the Tower tomorrow at nine as well. We’ll see then.” He bent down and kissed Jane on the cheek. “Either way, I’ll always love you,” he said.

He started to walk away, then returned. “I almost forgot,” he said. “I got something for Sarah.” He reached into his pocket and placed on the table a small toy replica of one of the Daleks from the Doctor Who television show.

“I’ve been introducing her to the Doctor,” he said. He then adopted the peculiar high-pitched voice of the Daleks. “Exterminate!” he said, using their famous line.

Jane laughed. “She’s going to love it,” she said.

Byron left. Jane sat very still, looking at the Needle and thinking. When she could think no more she closed the box and picked up the Dalek. This one was aluminum in color, with a single eye that lit up with a blue bulb. When she pressed a button on the bottom, the toy spoke just as Byron had. “Exterminate!” it said.

She pressed the button again. This time she heard a noise resembling radio static. Then a voice came from the Dalek.

“I told you the Needle was real.”

It was the voice from the elevator.

“Yes, but you might have been a bit more helpful as to where it was,” Jane said.

“Sorry about that,” said the voice. “I can’t be expected to know everything. But you’ve got it now, that’s the important thing. So, are you going to use it?”

Jane, feeling very self-conscious about holding a conversation with a toy Dalek, looked around before replying. “I don’t know,” she said.

The voice sighed. “It’s what you wanted,” it said.

“I thought I did,” Jane said. “Now I don’t know. And by the way, who are you?”

“Haven’t you guessed?” asked the voice. “I’m Apollonia.”

“The saint?” Jane said. “So you do exist.”

“Of course I do. Didn’t you see the windows?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “But you know how it is. Tongue from a frost dragon and all that. If you don’t mind my asking, are you in heaven?”

“There’s no more time for questions,” Apollonia said. “I just wanted to know if you’d decided to use the Needle. If you don’t want it, you really ought to give it to someone who does, you know.”

“That’s very saintlike of you,” Jane remarked.

“I do try,” said Apollonia. “Look, I have to go now. Do try to make up your mind soon, will you?”

“I will,” Jane told her. “And you take care of yourself. Give my regards to God. Or whomever.”

The Dalek was silent. Jane held it in her hand for another few minutes, in case Apollonia had anything else to say. When it seemed she didn’t, Jane slipped the Dalek into her pocket and picked up the case containing the Needle. Then she left the bar and went in search of Lucy.

It never hurts to get a second opinion, she told herself.