Little Vampire Women (17 page)

“Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not think that good young girls should see such stories, which turn these Dashwooders into heroes. You should be protected from such sordid filth.”

“All may not be bad, you know. Groups like the Dashwood Dozen serve a purpose. Someone must rid
society of slayers or we are all at risk,” said Jo, scratching gathers so energetically that a row of little slits followed her pin.

“Visky sellers satisfy a need for liquid, but I think you and I know that’s not the vay to quench a thirst. Slayers must be captured, yes, but not using these scientifical methods which erode our natural abilities. A vampire who relies on a serum of truth loses the ability to glamour and control minds. Ve are not meant to vear masks to filter out garlic. Ve haf the natural ability, but vhy learn and study if you can buy an instrument at the store? The old vays are dying and vith it our identity. The new ones see these stories about the Dashwooders and their ilk and think this is vhat it means to be vampire. They don’t learn to develop their powers. Ve are holy creatures. Humans are damned. If ve continue to become more like humans, ve vill be damned, too.”

Mr. Bhaer spoke warmly, and walked to the fire, crumpling the paper in his hands. Jo sat still, looking as if the fire had come to her, for her mortification remained long after the cocked hat had turned to smoke and gone harmlessly up the chimney.

Jo had never encountered a vampire who felt as he did, for the reliance on potions, instruments, and scientifical investigation was hailed by many, if not all, of her acquaintances as a breakthrough in slayer hunting. Employing the very tools on slayers that slayers used on them was seen as a way of leveling the
playing field. The old method of relying on instinct and honing natural abilities had been deemed a failure by Bloody Wobblestone, and she had believed it. But now she had to reconsider her beliefs, for she respected the Professor’s intellect far too much to dismiss his words. They stayed with her during her lesson and, after another unsuccessful raid on Bang’s supposed hideout, she asked the Professor to elaborate on his philosophy so that she herself might come to share it.

He did not look surprised by her request, which proved to her that he knew everything, even though she had spoken none of it. “Ve are vampires,” he said, echoing his words from the earlier evening but with a new emphasis and pride. “Ve can do many things which these humans cannot and that is how ve catch our enemies. Not by the vials and potions. Dashwood and his dozen vant glory, not justice.” He launched then into such a fantastic account of the ways vampires had evolved through millennia to survive among humans, charmorization
³⁹
and transmogrification among them, that Jo felt as though she was listening to a tale from one of Madame de La Fayette’s books.

“Can you really change into a bat?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said solemnly.

“Can you do it here? Right now?” Her enthusiasm was such that she charged forward with her request, never once considering the propriety of it, and it was only when he looked slightly abashed that she realized it might seem to him as if she considered the great wonder a mere parlor trick. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…” she stuttered.

The kindly gentleman smiled, revealing those beautiful fangs, shook his head gently, and disappeared into thin air, reappearing a moment later as a furry, winged creature a few inches above her head. And it looked as if to be grinning at her!

Proper or not, Jo clapped her hands, for it seemed like the most glorious thing she’d ever seen. “How marvelous,” she shouted, for she knew nothing of a bat’s ability to hear and its ears were so small.

A second later, Mr. Bhaer was back before her, somber black suit and all. “This is how ve are to track our enemies, not on the back of a stupid horse or, vorse, being pulled by one. Ve have spent so many years living openly among humans that ve think ve are human. Before, vhen ve had to hide, ve knew vhat ve vere.”

He spoke so gravely, Jo felt silly to be excited, and she turned down the full boil of her enthusiasm to a soft simmer so that she could listen and learn as much as she could.

The Professor was an eager instructor, grateful for
a pupil who sincerely understood and appreciated the old ways. As Bhaer shared his knowledge, she shared the true purpose of her visit and confessed everything about her association with the Dashwood Dozen, Gentleman Jackson, and Mr. Wobblestone. Her kind friend could find no real fault with her behavior, for Jo was still young yet and had not the breadth of experience that a man of his centuries might. No one among her acquaintance esteemed the old ways as he did, but none, he suspected, had been around long enough to know them well.

“Don’t vorry,” he said, patting her soft hand. “Ve vill capture this villain who did such harm to your sister.”

Jo believed him, and in the days and weeks that followed, she saw how his old-fashioned way of tracking slayers was vastly superior to the so-called modern scientifical method. Mr. Bhaer had no need for potions, for he could charm humans into telling him the truth and many whom he questioned about Bang simply volunteered the information he required. Likewise, he could hear, see, and smell things happening a great distance farther away than Jo had ever imagined. Garlic was no deterrent to him, for he could filter out specific layers of smell, among them allium, to identify the particular odor he was in search of.

His abilities held Jo in awe, for it seemed to her that he could do anything, but when she would lie quietly in her coffin on the edge of sleep at day, she would admit
that his abilities didn’t amaze her at all. These talents were no greater or lesser than his other vast talents such as kindness and intellect and good humor. She paid attention, studied hard, and made fair progress in the acquisition of skills, none of which she mastered but all of which she aspired to, and at sunrise on the day she was to leave, for every piece of evidence indicated Bang had departed New York for parts north, she tried one last time to turn herself into a bat, following his instructions carefully to close out her surroundings and see nothing but star-dappled velvet sky.

The result was its own sensation, for the very head that imagined the dark blue night changed into a bat but the rest of her remained bipedal and earthbound.

“Half bat, half girl, wholly adorable,” Mr. Bhaer said, with his big hearty laugh. But his mood soon turned serious, for he sat silently pulling his beard a long while. His hair stuck straight up all over his head, for he always rumpled it wildly when disturbed in mind.

She was going early, so she bade him good-bye before he went to sleep, saying warmly, “Now, Sir, you won’t forget to come and see us, if you ever travel our way, will you? I’ll never forgive you if you do, for I want them all to know my friend.”

“Do you? Shall I come?” he asked, looking down at her with an eager expression which she did not see.

“Yes, come next month. Laurie graduates then, and
you’d enjoy commencement as something new.”

“That is your best friend, of whom you speak?” he said in an altered tone.

“Yes, my human boy Teddy. I’m very proud of him and should like you to see him.”

Jo looked up then, quite unconscious of anything but her own pleasure in the prospect of showing them to one another. Something in Mr. Bhaer’s face suddenly recalled the fact that she might find Laurie more than a “best friend,” and simply because she particularly wished not to look as if anything was the matter, she began to become awkward, and the more she tried to relax, the more uncomfortable she grew. Fortunately Mrs. Kirke called out to her from the stairs above, so she managed to distract herself for an instant, hoping the Professor did not notice. But he did, and his face changed again from that momentary anxiety to its usual expression, as he said cordially…

“I fear I shall not make the time for that, but I vish the friend much success, and you all happiness. God bless you!” And with that, he shook hands warmly and went away.

But after everyone went to sleep, he sat long before his fire with the tired look on his face and the “heimweh,” or homesickness, lying heavy at his heart. Once, when he remembered Jo as she sat with the little child in her lap and that new softness in her face, he leaned his head on his hands a minute, and then
roamed about the room, as if in search of something that he could not find.

“It is not for me, I must not hope it now,” he said to himself, with a sigh that was almost a groan. Then, as if reproaching him self for the longing that he could not repress, he went and kissed Tina’s tousled head as she played in the parlor, took down his seldom-used meerschaum, and opened his Plato.

He did his best and did it manfully, but I don’t think he found that a rampant girl, a pipe, or even the divine Plato, were very satisfactory substitutes for wife and child at home.

Early as it was, he was at the station that twilight to see Jo off, and thanks to him, she began her solitary journey with the pleasant memory of a familiar face smiling its farewell, a bunch of violets to keep her company, and best of all, the happy thought, “Well, my sojourn’s over, and I haven’t captured Bang, but I’ve made a friend worth having and I’ll try to keep him all my life.”

W
hatever his motive might have been, Laurie studied to some purpose that year, for he graduated with honor, and gave the Latin oration with the grace of a Phillips
⁴⁰
and the eloquence of a Demosthenes,
⁴¹
so his friends said. None of the Marches could attend the ceremony, since it occurred during the bright of the day on a swath of exposed grass in the middle of a commons, but he repeated his speech for them later that evening in
the front garden. They were all there, his grandfather—oh, so proud—Mr. and Mrs. March, John and Meg and Jo and Beth, and all exulted over him with the sincere admiration which boys make light of at the time, but fail to win from the world by any after-triumphs.

They had supper in his honor, a grand feast of roasted duck and seared lobster and crispy salmon in vegetable broth piled so high that the table dipped from the weight. It was far too much for one person to eat, let alone a giddy young graduate who had so many things he wanted to talk about. But he did his best out of consideration for the others and tried to eat everything they passed, despite his full belly. In the end, he could finish only a quarter of the generous repast, and enough leftovers remained to feed half of Concord. His friends, he realized wryly, had been vampires for so long, they were completely incapable of gauging a human boy’s appetite.

“You’ll come and meet me later, Jo?” Laurie asked, as the family left together at the end of the evening.

“I’ll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and march before you, playing ‘Hail the conquering hero comes’ on a Jew’s harp.”

Laurie thanked her with a look that made her think in a sudden panic, “Oh, deary me! I know he’ll say something, and then what shall I do?”

Morning meditation and evening work somewhat allayed her fears, and having decided that she wouldn’t
be vain enough to think people were going to propose when she had given them every reason to know what her answer would be, she set forth at the appointed time, hoping Teddy wouldn’t do anything to make her hurt his poor feelings. A call at Meg’s still further fortified her for the tête-à-tête, but when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance, she had a strong desire to turn about and run away.

“Where’s the jew’s-harp, Jo?” cried Laurie, as soon as he was within speaking distance.

“I forgot it.” And Jo took heart again, for that salutation could not be called lover-like.

She always used to take his arm on these occasions, now she did not, and he made no complaint, which was a bad sign, but talked on rapidly about all sorts of faraway subjects, till they turned from the road into the little path that led homeward through the grove. Then he walked more slowly, suddenly lost his fine flow of language, and now and then a dreadful pause occurred. To rescue the conversation from one of the wells of silence into which it kept falling, Jo said hastily, “Now you must have a good long holiday!”

“I intend to.”

Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly to find him looking down at her with an expression that assured her the dreaded moment had come, and made her put out her hand with an imploring, “No, Teddy. Please don’t!”

“I will, and you must hear me. It’s no use, Jo, we’ve got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us,” he answered, getting flushed and excited all at once.

“Say what you like then. I’ll listen,” said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience.

Laurie was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to “have it out,” if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuosity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady…

“I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you, Jo, couldn’t help it, you’ve been so good to me. I’ve tried to show it, but you wouldn’t let me. Now I’m going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can’t go on so any longer.”

“I wanted to save you this. I thought you’d understand…” began Jo, finding it a great deal harder than she expected.

“I know you did, but girls are so queer you never know what they mean. They say no when they mean yes, and drive a man out of his wits just for the fun of it,” returned Laurie, entrenching himself behind an undeniable fact.

“I don’t. I never wanted to make you care for me so.”

“I worked hard to please you, and I gave up everything you didn’t like, and waited and never complained when Beth turned my grandfather and Meg turned John, for I hoped you’d love me and change me, though being
human I know I’m not half good enough…” Here there was a choke that couldn’t be controlled, so he decapitated buttercups while he cleared his “confounded throat.”

“You, you are, you’re a great deal too good for me. I love your humanity, it makes you so wonderful and special and I can’t for a moment contemplate the thought of taking it away. I don’t know why it feels so wrong but it does and I can’t change the feeling.”

“Really, truly, Jo?”

He stopped short, and caught both her hands as he put his question with a look that she did not soon forget.

“Really, truly, dear.”

They were in the grove now, close by the stile, and when the last words fell reluctantly from Jo’s lips, Laurie dropped her hands and turned as if to go on, but for once in his life the fence was too much for him. So he just laid his head down on the mossy post, and stood so still that Jo was frightened.

“Oh, Teddy, I’m sorry, so desperately sorry, I could stake myself. I wish you wouldn’t take it so hard, I can’t help it. You know it’s impossible for a vampire to transform someone who they don’t want to transform,” cried Jo inelegantly but remorsefully, as she softly patted his shoulder, remembering the time when he had comforted her so long ago.

“They do sometimes,” said a muffled voice from the post.

“I don’t believe it’s the right sort of transformation,
and I’d rather not try it,” was the decided answer.

“You’ll get over this after a while, and find some lovely accomplished human girl, who will adore you, and make a fine mistress for your fine house. I shouldn’t. I’m homely and awkward and odd and old, and you’d be ashamed of me, and we should quarrel—we can’t help it even now, you see—and I shouldn’t like elegant society and you would, and you’d hate my slayer hunting, and I couldn’t get on without it, and you’d resent me for changing you because you couldn’t go in the sun anymore and you’d miss the warmth of it on your face, I know you would because after all these years, I still miss it, we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn’t done it, and everything would be horrid.”

“I’ll tell you what’s horrible, being the only human among your own acquaintance. To have to eat long boring meals by yourself and go to sleep when everyone’s having fun and be weaker than your elderly grandfather, who can pick you up bodily and toss you across the conservatory as if you were lighter than a feather. It’s not fair!” with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words.

“I know it seems bad now but you’ll see that I’m right, by-and-by, and thank me for it…” she began solemnly.

“I’ll be hanged if I do!” and Laurie bounced up off the grass, burning with indignation at the very idea.

“Yes, you will!” persisted Jo. “And I don’t believe I shall ever turn anyone. I’m happy as I am, and love
my liberty too well to be in a hurry to give it up for any mortal man.”

“I know better!” broke in Laurie. “You think so now, but there’ll come a time when you will care for somebody, and you’ll love him tremendously, and live and die for him and you won’t be able to stand that he’s not eternal like you. I know you will, it’s your way, and I shall have to stand by and see it,” and the despairing lover cast his hat upon the ground with a gesture that would have seemed comical, if his face had not been so tragic.

“You’re wrong. I won’t ever make someone a vampire. No human will ever make me love him in spite of myself,” cried Jo, losing patience with poor Teddy. “I’ve done my best, but you won’t be reasonable, and it’s selfish of you to keep teasing for what I can’t do. I shall always be fond of you, very fond indeed, as a friend, but I’ll never turn you, and the sooner you believe it the better for both of us—so now!”

That speech was like gunpowder. Laurie looked at her a minute as if he did not quite know what to do with himself, then turned sharply away, saying in a desperate sort of tone, “You’ll be sorry some day, Jo.”

“Oh, where are you going?” she cried, for his face frightened her.

“To the devil!” was the consoling answer.

For a minute Jo’s heart stood still, as he swung himself down the bank toward the river, but it takes much folly, sin, or misery to send a young man to a violent
death, and Laurie was not one of the weak sort who are conquered by a single failure. He had no thought of a melodramatic plunge, but some blind instinct led him to fling hat and coat into his boat, and row away with all his might, making better time up the river than he had done in any race. Jo unclasped her hands as she watched the poor fellow trying to outstrip the trouble which he carried in his heart.

He didn’t manage to outstrip it but after consultation with his grandfather, who had business in London that needed attending to by a human, he took it with him to Europe.

Being an energetic immortal, Mr. Laurence arranged all the details within a week, and before the blighted being recovered spirit enough to rebel, they were off. During the time necessary for preparation, Laurie bore himself as young gentlemen usually do in such cases. He was moody, irritable, and pensive by turns, lost his appetite, neglected his dress and devoted much time to playing tempestuously on his piano, avoided Jo, but consoled himself by staring at her from his window, with a tragic face that haunted her dreams by day and oppressed her with a heavy sense of guilt by night. Unlike some sufferers, he never spoke of his unrequited passion, and would allow no one, not even Mrs. March, to attempt consolation or offer sympathy. On some accounts, this was a relief to his friends, but the nights before his departure were very uncomfortable, and everyone rejoiced that the
“poor, dear fellow was going away to forget his trouble, and come home happy.” Of course, he smiled darkly at their delusion, but passed it by with the sad superiority of one who knew that his fidelity like his love and desire to be vampire was unalterable.

When the parting came he affected high spirits, to conceal certain inconvenient emotions which seemed inclined to assert themselves. This gaiety did not impose upon anybody, but they tried to look as if it did for his sake, and he got on very well till Mrs. March kissed him, with a whisper full of motherly solicitude. Then feeling that he was going very fast, he hastily embraced them all round, not forgetting the afflicted Hannah, and ran downstairs as if for his life. Jo followed a minute after to wave her hand to him if he looked round. He did look round, came back, put his arms about her as she stood on the step above him, and looked up at her with a face that made his short appeal eloquent and pathetic.

“Oh, Jo, can’t you?”

“Teddy, dear, I wish I could!”

That was all, except a little pause. Then Laurie straightened himself up, said, “It’s all right, never mind,” and went away without another word. Ah, but it wasn’t all right, and Jo did mind, for while the curly head lay on her arm a minute after her hard answer, she felt as if she had stabbed her dearest friend, and when he left her without a look behind him, she knew that the human boy Laurie never would come again.