Little Vampire Women (13 page)

That was adding insult to injury. It was altogether too much, and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo leaped into the air and landed on Mr. Brooke’s chest, propelling him to the floor, where he lay stunned for the merest moment before grabbing a small side table and smashing it over Jo’s head. The table split with a resounding crack and wood shards rained on the carpet as Jo’s fist connected with Mr. Brooke’s chin. His head dropped but his back arched, and with a mighty heave, he rolled over, pressing Jo into the carpet with a gleeful chuckle.

“Filthy vamp,” he muttered.

Jo raised her knee and applied forceful pressure on the part of a man that Gentleman Jackson described as “most vulnerable to injury” and heard his pained wail. She kicked him twice, then flipped him over, her arm against his throat, slowly depleting his weak human body of more air.

When the fight began, Meg vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by
exclaiming tragically as she burst into the room, “Oh, do somebody go down quick! Jo is acting dreadfully!”

Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed, hastened down to the parlor, where they found Jo slowly choking the life out of Meg’s suitor. Mr. March immediately ordered his daughter to cease and desist, and although Jo was far too angry to respond the first time, she quit her occupation without delay when he threatened to leave her outside for one full hour in the bright midday sun.

Meg arrived in the room, followed by the other two girls.

Marmee helped a wheezing John to his feet and led him to the couch while Jo looked on with burning eyes. His assurance of health was sought and attained before anyone turned to her to inquire after her well-being. She tapped her toe impatiently as Meg tore off a piece of her skirt and dabbed at his bleeding lip and her father offered him a cigarillo.

When John was comfortably situated, her mother turned to her, her voice bathed in disappointment, for she had been so proud of Jo for controlling her bosom enemy and now this shocking display of unrestraint. “Jo, you may now explain to us how came you to attack John, a visitor in this house, and a dear and wonderful friend to all of us.”

“As I’ve mentioned several times before, though you refuse to listen to me, Mr. Brooke is a vicious vampire
slayer responsible for Father’s and Beth’s illness. I didn’t have evidence before but now I have proof taken from his own room,” she announced.

With a shake of her head, Marmee said, “Jo, I realize you are determined to pursue a career as a defender, but that doesn’t excuse you from basic propriety. It is not suitable for a young lady to enter a gentleman’s rooms unaccompanied, nor is it proper for her to rifle among his things.”

Jo impatiently accepted her mother’s criticism. Marmee was the best and goodest creature in the whole world, which was sometimes, only at the rarest times, of course, a little difficult to live with. “It was not my intention to rifle but to find evidence that would save all our lives. And I did,” she explained, producing from her pocket a slip of paper which she passed to her mother for examination. “The recipe for the chilly death. I found it in a small case in his closet hidden under a false floorboard. I also discovered some of the formula itself but I destroyed it immediately, lest it do further harm.”

While Marmee read the ingredients, Brooke laughed viciously. “You’ve stopped me. Oh, you have. I’m your prisoner now. But you’ll never stop us all. I am one among many and we are legion, and we won’t rest until we’ve wiped all you filthy demons, you grotesque abominations, you monstrous insults to God, from the face of the—”

His speech cut off suddenly as Meg dove for his throat, her fangs driving into his flesh as if trying to tear out his very soul. Intent on his rant, Brooke hadn’t seen it coming, nor had any of the occupants in the room. Father took a step forward, to chastise or comfort, Jo did not know, but before he could do anything, Marmee squeezed his arm and shook her head. Their kind, wonderful, oh-so-very-good mother understood her daughter’s intent before the girl herself even understood it, and she had no desire for her husband to interfere with the natural order of things.

Jo’s heart cheered in joy at the slaying of their enemy, the man who had wrought so much damage and caused so much grief. But then her joy turned to misery as Meg cut open her vein and pressed Brooke’s lips to her arm. “No!” cried Jo, rushing forward, but she, like her father, was intercepted by the gentle Mrs. March, who patted her daughter’s arm and promised softly that everything would be all right. Meg was acting in a way most natural to a young girl in love who discovered her lover was not all he seemed. Of a certainty, she felt betrayed and was driven in part by a desire to punish him for his treachery by making him the thing he hated most. But a larger part of her simply wanted to keep him beside her for always. Marmee knew neither motivation was a bad thing. Many a satisfying union had begun with one spouse resenting the other for a premature death and
unasked-for rebirth. She herself had borne a grudge against Mr. March for two whole days before she acknowledged that her new condition was wholly superior to her old one.

But her mother’s confident assurances did little to calm Jo down. She saw the fear in Brooke’s eyes as he, like so many weak humans before him, drank the blood of a vampire to survive. His terror was palpable, for clearly he had long ago resigned himself to a violent death at the hand of a vengeful vampire but had never come to terms with the possibility of change, of being turned into one of them: a filthy demon, a grotesque abomination, an insult to God.

Hannah came in to see what all the commotion was about and tsked disapprovingly at the damage done to the little room. The sound seemed to wake Meg from a stupor and she looked up at her parents, then down at her fiancé, then up at her parents again. For a moment, she seemed confused by her own actions, as if they were done by someone else, but then she smiled, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth, and said, “I know we were meant to wait three years, but this simply felt right.”

Marmee quietly asked the girls to leave and with great reluctance they allowed themselves to be led out by Hannah. Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that evening, but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Meg astonished her parents by
the eloquence and spirit with which she defended her impulsive actions, pleaded her suit, told her plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as she wanted it. Mr. Brooke was unconscious and therefore unable to make his opinion of the situation known, but it was assumed that his sentiments had undergone a sweeping change with his own transformation into a demon and that he would be delighted to be accepted into one of Concord’s oldest vampire families, that he would happily comply with their strict humanitarian diet, and that he would eagerly supply the names of his coconspirators.

The tea bell rang before she had finished describing the paradise which her fiancé would supply her, but the Marches left off their discussion to go into supper. Before they did, Marmee suggested they bury John in the back garden, where the transformation would be completed and where the whole family would gather the next night to greet him when he emerged from his grave, hungry and slightly discombobulated from the alteration.

After Mr. March dug a shallow grave and Meg tossed her beloved in, they went in for their meal, Meg looking so happy that Jo hadn’t the heart to be angry or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by Meg’s dignity, Beth beamed at her from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed their daughter with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident
Aunt March was right in calling them as “unworldly as a pair of babies.” No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there.

“You can’t say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?” said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a sketch she was planning to make.

“No, I’m sure I can’t. How much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago,” answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream lifted far above such common things as supper.

“The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun,” said Mrs. March. “In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events. This has been such a one, but it ends well, after all.”

“Hope the next will end better,” muttered Jo, who found it galling to call a slayer brother. Perhaps if he hadn’t so recently tried to kill Beth and her father, she could be calm about it, but he had, so she was not and she spent the entire meal brooding about the unhappy event.

The front door banged to admit Laurie, who came prancing in, overflowing with good spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for “Mrs. John Brooke,” and evidently laboring under the delusion that the
whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management.

“I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does, for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it’s done though the sky falls,” said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations, only noticing then his tutor’s absence and drawing the logical conclusion that he had once again missed out on all the fun. “Is the old fellow in the backyard, then?”

Jo confirmed with a nod.

“You don’t look festive, ma’am, what’s the matter?” asked Laurie, following Jo into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence.

“I don’t approve of the match, but I’ve made up my mind to bear it, and shall not say a word against it,” said Jo solemnly. “You can’t know how hard it is for me to welcome a slayer into the family. Just a few hours ago he wanted us all dead and now we’re supposed to dance at his wedding,” she continued with a little quiver in her voice.

“What’s this? A slayer?” asked Laurie.

Jo realized then that her friend had not taken her concerns any more seriously than her family, though she had repeatedly aired them to him. Calmly, she related the series of events that had led to that evening’s impromptu siring. Laurie was aghast and apologetic for bringing such a creature into their midst, for
he would never have hired, let alone befriended, someone with such archaic views on demonry. “I was positive you had it wrong. He seemed like an enlightened gus like me.”

Of course she didn’t hold Laurie responsible in any way. How could she blame him for his doubt when she had been unable to convince her entire family? Her only concern had been for the safety of her family and, by extension, Mr. Laurence. But now, through her poor handling of the affair, her sister had changed John years before she was ready.

“It can never be the same again. I’ve lost my dearest friend,” sighed Jo.

“You’ve got me, anyhow. I’m not good for much, I know, but I’ll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life. Upon my word I will!” and Laurie meant what he said.

“I know you will, and I’m ever so much obliged. You are always a great comfort to me, Teddy,” returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands.

“Well, now, don’t be dismal, there’s a good fellow. It’s all right you see. Meg is happy, Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately, Grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg in her own little house. We’ll have capital times after she is gone, for I shall be through college before long, and then we’ll go abroad on some nice trip or other. Wouldn’t that console you?”

“I rather think it would, but there’s no knowing
what may happen in three years,” said Jo thoughtfully.

“That’s true. Don’t you wish you could take a look forward and see where we shall all be then? I do,” returned Laurie.

“I think not, for I might see something sad, and everyone looks so happy now, I don’t believe they could be much improved.” And Jo’s eyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect was a pleasant one.

Father and Mother sat together, quietly reliving the first chapter of the romance which for them began some 130 years ago. Amy was drawing the lovers, the present half of whom sat apart in a beautiful world of her own, the light of which touched her face with a grace the little artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead him along the peaceful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave quiet look which best became her, and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both.

So the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises again, depends upon the reception given the first act of the domestic drama called
Little Vampire Women.

I
n order that we may start afresh and go to Meg’s wedding with free minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossip about the Marches. And here let me premise that if any of the elders think there is too much “lovering” in the story, as I fear they may (I’m not afraid the young folks will make that objection), I can only say with Mrs. March, “What can you expect when I have four gay girls in the house, and a dashing young neighbor over the way?”

The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely at home, busy with his books and the small parish which found in him a minister by nature as by grace, a quiet, studious vampire, rich in the wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which calls
all humankind “brother,” the piety that blossoms into character, making it august and lovely.

These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integrity which shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted to him many admirable vampires, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees, and as naturally he gave them the honey into which two hundred fifty years of hard experience had distilled no bitter drop. His good book was the holy bible, the exact one human ministers preached out of daily, and his lessons were the same: do unto others, love thy neighbor. His “humanitarian” philosophy of treating all people with respect was, just as John Brooke and his cohorts had feared, starting to spread and grow beyond the small “cult of humanity” community where it was founded.

To outsiders the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy, anxious vampire women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father.

The girls gave their hearts into their mother’s keeping, their souls into their father’s, and to both parents, who lived and labored so faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth and bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses life and outlives death.

Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, and no more
grayer, as when we saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg’s affairs that the hospitals and homes still full of wounded “boys” and soldiers’ widows, decidedly miss the motherly missionary’s visits.

John Brooke did his duty manfully, rising to the demands of his new life with all the enthusiasm his young fiancée could hope for. A fighter by nature, he eagerly traded one cause for another, happily adopting the vampire struggle as his own. His loyalty to Meg developed with equal swiftness, for he was profoundly grateful to her for bestowing on him invincibility and immortality. Though he’d found her insipid and gullible in life, in death he found her delightful and blissfully fell in with her plans for their future.

The adjustment wasn’t without its challenges, for Brooke dearly loved the taste of human blood as well as the acquisition of it. But through Meg’s patient instruction, for he was the student now, he learned to control his impulses and even gained an appreciation for deer’s blood, which had some of the tang of the human variety. His progress during those three years was everything his prospective in-laws could be proud of and they happily cheered him on when he refused Mr. Laurence’s more generous offers, and accepted the place of bookkeeper, feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly earned salary than by running any risks with borrowed money. They were also proud of the way he named all his coconspirators
in the plot to kill the Marches, and he abjectly apologized to Beth for causing her a moment’s unease with the chilly death. He’d only targeted her for execution because she had so skillfully and so smoothly deflected the stake aimed at her sister’s heart by Fred Vaughn, an observation that further enflamed Jo’s resentment, for she hated to think of any sister being worthy of execution save herself.

Meg had spent the time in working as well as instructing her beloved in his new life, growing womanly in character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier than ever, for love is a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes, and felt some disappointment at the humble way in which the new life must begin. Sallie Gardiner had just gotten married, and Meg couldn’t help contrasting her fine house and carriage, many gifts, and splendid outfit with her own, and secretly wishing she could have the same. But somehow envy and discontent soon vanished when she thought of all the patient love and labor John had put into becoming the perfect vampire for her, and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie’s splendor and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom.

Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took such a fancy to Amy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessons from one of the best teachers
going, and for the sake of this advantage, Amy would have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her evenings to duty, her overnights to pleasure, and prospered finely. Jo meantime devoted herself to her training at the salon, where she was in her third year as a cadet. Graduation loomed and with it the prospect of a job with a firm or agency devoted to the defense of vampires. With John’s help, Gentleman Jackson caught all but one of his former plotters. The villain who had escaped, a fierce slayer who went by the nom de guerre Dr. Bang, had long since disappeared from the county.

Beth remained delicate long after the fever was a thing of the past. Not an invalid exactly, but never again the pale-faced, healthy creature she had been, yet always hopeful, happy, and serene, and busy with the quiet duties she loved, everyone’s friend, and an angel in the house, long before those who loved her most had learned to know it.

Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather, was now getting through it in the easiest possible manner to please himself. A universal favorite, thanks to money, manners, much talent, and the kindest heart that ever got its owner into scrapes by trying to get other people out of them, he stood in great danger of being spoiled, and probably would have been, like many another promising boy, if he had not possessed a talisman against evil in the memory of the kind old man who was bound up in his success,
the motherly friend who watched over him as if he were her son, and last, but not least by any means, the knowledge that four innocent vampire girls loved, admired, and believed in him with all their hearts.

Being only “a glorious human boy,” of course he frolicked and flirted, grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions ordained, hazed and was hazed, talked slang, and more than once came perilously near suspension and expulsion. But as high spirits and the love of fun were the causes of these pranks, he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irresistible power of persuasion which he possessed in perfection. In fact, he rather prided himself on his narrow escapes, and liked to thrill the girls with graphic accounts of his triumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified professors, and vanquished enemies. The “men of my class” were heroes in the eyes of the girls, who never wearied of the exploits of “our fellows,” and were frequently allowed to bask in the smiles of these great creatures, when Laurie brought them home with him.

Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belle among them, for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the gift of fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbed in her private and particular John to care for any other lords of creation, and Beth too shy to do more than peep at them and wonder how Amy
dared to order them about so, but Jo felt quite in her own element, and found it very difficult to refrain from imitating the gentlemanly attitudes, phrases, and feats, which seemed more natural to her than the decorums prescribed for young ladies. They all liked Jo immensely, but never fell in love with her, though very few escaped without paying the tribute of a sentimental sigh or two at Amy’s shrine. And speaking of sentiment brings us very naturally to the “Dovecote.”

That was the name of the little brown house Mr. Brooke had prepared for Meg’s first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it was highly appropriate to the gentle lovers who “went on together like a pair of turtledoves, with first a bill and then a coo.” It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn about as big as a pocket handkerchief in the front. The house was furnished lovingly by Mrs. March and the girls, who went on many solemn shopping excursions to stock the house with all the amenities required by a new bride.

The linen closet was particularly well-stored, for Aunt March, having said she would have nothing further to do with Meg if she married “that book,”
³¹
was rather in a quandary when the former tutor became a valuable resource in the fight against slayers. She never broke her word, and was much exercised in her
mind how to get round it, and at last devised a plan whereby she could satisfy herself. A dear family friend was ordered to buy, have made, and marked a generous supply of house and table linen, and send it as her present, all of which was faithfully done, but the secret leaked out, and was greatly enjoyed by the family, for Aunt March tried to look utterly unconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but the old-fashioned pearls long promised to the first bride.

And now Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves and exulting over the goodly array and the house was complete and ready for the bride and groom to return home replete after their wedding tomorrow.