Little Vampire Women (4 page)

“You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?” he asked, his tone suspicious. Everyone knew vampires weren’t charitable, so he thought the girl must have an ulterior motive.

“Yes, sir, he seems a little lonely, and young folks would do him good perhaps. We are only girls, but we should be glad to help if we could,” said Jo eagerly. “I train my sisters daily in the skills of slayer hunting. Laurie could join us.”

Suspecting a trap, the old man raised his stake.

“I could, sir,” Laurie said, speaking for the first time since his grandfather appeared. “They could teach me how to defend myself against vampire slayers.”

That the human lad had nothing to fear from vampire slayers was an obvious point his grandfather couldn’t help but make. Then he added, “And who will teach you how to defend yourself against the vampires?”

Jo laughed. “Us? We’re not a threat to anyone!”

Laurie laughed, too, and the change in his grandson did not escape the old gentleman. There was color,
light, and life in the boy’s face now, vivacity in his manner, and genuine merriment in his laugh.

“She’s right, the lad is lonely,” thought Mr. Laurence, but he wasn’t sure that allowing him into the company of four deadly creatures was the best solution. He liked Jo, for her odd, blunt ways suited him, but she was a vampire and therefore unworthy of trust.

Laurie knew how implacable his grandfather was in his prejudices and said sorely, “It’s just as well. The training would take me away from my study of piano. I plan to be a musician, just like my mother, you know.”

“Oh, how marvelous!” cried Jo, clapping her hands. “You will play grand concerts before hundreds and hundreds of people and travel all over the world and see so many—”

“That will do, that will do, young lady,” Mr. Laurence said. “Too many sugarplums are not good for him. His music isn’t bad, but I hope he will do as well in more important things.”

“He doesn’t like to hear me play,” explained Laurie.

“Then you should let him train with us, sir,” Jo said. “We have only a very, very old piano that nobody can get much music out of save my sister Beth, who loves playing.”

Mr. Laurence considered the argument. Self-defense was a manly pursuit, even when practiced by vampire girls, and the study of it would leave Laurie less time for inconsequentials like music.

Aware that he wavered, Jo said, “Honestly, sir, we’re good folks. My mother helps the poor and my father is fighting the war because he considers it his duty.”

The latter hardly recommended the March family to the old man, who thought that the carnage of war was a sideboard buffet with endless appetizing treats for a creature of the night. Nevertheless, he relented and agreed to let Laurie come amongst them for the purposes of strength training and calisthenics.

Delighted, Jo made her good-byes and rushed home to tell her sisters about their new recruit.

T
o appease Mr. Laurence’s concerns, the girls held their training sessions in the large house under the watchful gaze of the old man, who quickly saw that the only one committed to the training itself was Jo, for her sisters laughed and chatted throughout the entire event. All were delighted with the new venue except timid Beth, who thought Laurie’s grandfather was as fierce as the lions who protected the Palace Beautiful
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in their game of Vilgrim’s Progress.

Mr. Laurence, although not a lion, did growl when he was displeased, a circumstance that occurred less
and less as he spent more and more time in the girls’ company. He even unwound enough to pay a call on Mrs. March, whose generosity with the Hummels touched his heart.

The new friendship flourished like grass in spring. Everyone liked Laurie, and he privately informed his tutor Mr. Brooke that “the Marches were regularly splendid girls.” With the delightful enthusiasm of vampire youth, they took the solitary boy into their midst and made much of him, and he found something very charming in the innocent companionship of these simple-hearted undead girls. Never having known mother or sisters, he was quick to feel the influences they brought about him, and their busy, lively ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he led. He was tired of books, and found vampires so interesting now that Mr. Brooke was obliged to make very unsatisfactory reports, for Laurie was always playing truant and running over to the Marches’.

“Never mind, let him take a holiday, and make it up afterward,” said the old man, whose stance on vampires had undergone a sweeping change. “The good lady next door says he is studying too hard and needs young society, amusement, and exercise. I suspect she is right, and that I’ve been coddling the fellow as if I’d been his grandmother. Let him do what he likes, as long as he is happy. He can’t get into mischief in that little nest over there.”

What good times they had, to be sure. Meg could walk in the conservatory whenever she liked and revel in bouquets, Jo browsed over the new library voraciously, and convulsed the old gentleman with her criticisms, Amy copied pictures and enjoyed beauty to her heart’s content, and Laurie played “lord of the manor” in the most delightful style.

But Beth, though yearning for the grand piano, could not pluck up courage to go to the “Mansion of Bliss,” as Meg called it, and so missed out on everything, including the training sessions. She went once with Jo, but the old gentleman, not being aware of her infirmity, stared at her so hard from under his heavy eyebrows, and said “Hey!” so loud, that he frightened her so much her “feet chattered on the floor,” she told her mother, and she ran away, declaring she would never go there anymore, not even for the dear piano. No persuasions or enticements could overcome her fear, till, the fact coming to Mr. Laurence’s ear in some mysterious way, he set about mending matters. During one of his brief calls, he artfully led the conversation to music, and talked away about great singers whom he had seen, fine organs he had heard, and told such charming anecdotes that Beth found it impossible to stay in her distant corner, but crept nearer and nearer, as if fascinated. At the back of his chair she stopped and stood listening, with her great eyes wide open and her cheeks pale with excitement of this unusual
performance. Taking no more notice of her than if she had been a fly, Mr. Laurence talked on about Laurie’s lessons and teachers. And presently, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said to Mrs. March…

“The boy neglects his music now, and I’m glad of it. But the piano suffers for want of use. Wouldn’t some of your girls like to run over, and practice on it now and then, just to keep it in tune, you know, ma’am?”

Beth took a step forward, and pressed her hands tightly together to keep from clapping them, for this was an irresistible temptation, and the thought of practicing on that splendid instrument would have quite taken her breath away if she had any. Before Mrs. March could reply, Mr. Laurence went on with an odd little nod and smile…

“They needn’t see or speak to anyone, but run in at any time. For I’m shut up in my study at the other end of the house, Laurie goes to bed early, and the servants leave at nine o’clock.”

Here he rose, as if going, and Beth made up her mind to speak, for that last arrangement left nothing to be desired. “Please, tell the young ladies what I say, and if they don’t care to come, why, never mind.” Here a little hand slipped into his, and Beth looked up at him with a face full of gratitude, as she said, in her earnest yet timid way…

“Oh, sir, they do care, very very much!”

“Are you the musical girl?” he asked, without any
startling “Hey!” as he looked down at her very kindly.

“I’m Beth. I love it dearly, and I’ll come, if you are quite sure nobody will hear me, and be disturbed,” she added, fearing to be rude, and trembling at her own boldness as she spoke.

“Not a soul, my dear. So come and drum away as much as you like, and I shall be obliged to you.”

“How kind you are, sir!”

Beth, not frightened now, gave the hand a grateful squeeze because she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her. The old gentleman softly stroked the hair off her forehead, and, stooping down, he kissed her, saying, in a tone few people ever heard…

“I had a little girl once, with eyes like these and the same unearthly pale complexion. God bless you, my dear! Good day, madam.” And away he went, in a great hurry.

The next evening, Beth, after two or three retreats, fairly got in at the side door, and made her way as noiselessly as any mouse to the drawing room where her idol stood. Quite by accident, of course, some pretty, easy music lay on the piano, and with trembling fingers and frequent stops to listen and look about, Beth at last touched the great instrument, and straightaway forgot her fear, herself, and everything else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, for it was like the voice of a beloved friend.

After that, the little brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every night, and the great drawing room
was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr. Laurence opened his study door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked. She never saw Laurie mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away. She never suspected that the exercise books and new songs which she found in the rack were put there for her especial benefit, and when he talked to her about music at home, she only thought how kind he was to tell things that helped her so much.

“Mother, I’m going to work Mr. Laurence a blackout hood,”
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she said, referring to the heavy garment that provided protection to those vampires who would look outside the window on a sunny day. It was typically made of wool and had narrow eye slits that afforded only a limited view of the world. “He is so kind to me, I must thank him, and I don’t know any other way.”

“That will please him very much, and be a nice way of thanking him,” replied Mrs. March, who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth’s requests because she so seldom asked anything for herself. “But be sure to remove some of the fabric that covers the face so that Mr. Laurence can breathe.”

After many serious discussions with Meg and Jo,
the pattern was chosen, the materials bought, and the hood begun. A cluster of grave pansies on a deeper purple ground was pronounced very appropriate and pretty, and Beth worked away early and late. When it was finished, she wrote a short, simple note, and with Laurie’s help, got it smuggled onto the study table one morning before the old gentleman was up.

When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All night passed and a part of the next before any acknowledgment arrived, and she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend. At midnight of the second day, she went out to do an errand, and give poor Joanna, her armless, legless, headless doll, her daily exercise. As she came up the street, on her return, she saw three, yes, four heads popping in and out of the parlor windows, and the moment they saw her, several hands were waved, and several joyful voices screamed…

“Here’s a letter from the old gentleman! Come quick, and read it!”

Beth hurried on in a flutter of suspense. At the door her sisters seized and bore her to the parlor in a triumphal procession, all pointing and all saying at once, “Look there! Look there!” Beth did look, and her already white skin somehow turned impossibly whiter with delight and surprise, for there stood a little cabinet piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed like a sign board to “Miss Elizabeth March.”

“For me?” gasped Beth, holding on to Jo and feeling as if she should tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether.

“Yes, all for you, my precious! Isn’t it splendid of him? Don’t you think he’s the dearest old man in the world? Here’s the key in the letter,” cried Jo, hugging her sister and offering the note.

“You read it! I can’t, I feel so queer! Oh, it is too lovely!” and Beth hid her face in Jo’s apron, quite upset by her present.

Jo opened the paper and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were…

“Try it, honey. Let’s hear the sound of the baby pianny,” said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.

So Beth tried it, and everyone pronounced it the
most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order. Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals.

“You’ll have to go and thank him,” said Jo, by way of a joke, for the idea of the child’s really going never entered her head.

“Yes, I mean to. I guess I’ll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.” And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences’ door.

“Well, I wish I may die if it ain’t the queerest thing I ever see! The pianny has turned her head! She’d never have gone in her right mind,” cried Hannah, staring after her, while the girls were rendered quite speechless by the miracle.

They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterward. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think, and when a gruff voice called out, “come in!” she did go in, right up to Mr. Laurence, who looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a small quaver in her voice, “I came to thank you, sir, for…” But she didn’t finish, for he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck and kissed him.

It was the closest Beth had been to a human since
her own transformation so many years before, and she couldn’t get over the warmth of his flesh, the lovely smell of his blood, sweet like metal, as it throbbed through his veins so loudly she could hear it. Gently, she pressed her nose to his neck, feeling his heart so strongly it was as if her own still beat, and slowly, so slowly she hardly knew she was doing it, opened her mouth and wrenched her fangs into his skin so that his blood gushed through her lips and over her tongue and down her throat like a river of life. Yes, it was life she was giving him, eternal life, born of an impulse so wholesome and pure she might as well have been an infant burying her head in her mother’s bosom.

The kindly old gentleman was hers now, for always.

Beth ceased to fear him from that moment on and sat there talking to him as cozily as if she’d known him all her life, for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride. Mr. Laurence, who had drunk Beth’s blood when she offered it to him, was too weak and disoriented to follow the conversation. Realizing her dear friend needed immediate planting in the garden so the transformation could be complete, Beth led him gently outside, found a shovel, and began to dig.

When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction, Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, and Meg exclaimed, with up-lifted hands, “Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end.”