by Marta Acosta
I had been misinterpreting so many things and I didn’t know if I was misinterpreting his intentions. “No, thank you, no.” I moved to one side. “I know you and Mrs. Radcliffe were probably enjoying an evening alone.”
“You seemed very upset.” He came close again. “We should get to know each other better, Jane.”
I put my key in the lock and turned it so I wasn’t facing him anymore. “We can talk another time. I overreacted because where I come from, you have to always be wary.”
“Hellsdale. We rescued Claire from that.”
My hand was on the doorknob, and I looked back. “Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Radcliffe.”
“Toby.” Then he stared into the trees as they whispered in the breeze. “Mrs. Radcliffe and I want you to come to the house Sunday afternoon. A Council Director, our representative on our governing organization, will be interviewing you.”
“I thought everything was approved.”
“It is, but Lucky’s a special young man, so special circumstances apply. Eventually my son will take over my seat on the Council’s education committee, as well as the responsibility of Birch Grove Academy.”
“But I thought the headmistress was in charge.”
“Only of the school’s administration. I’m president of the Board of Trustees. Officially, Birch Grove is a nonprofit corporation. In reality, I own it.” Mr. Radcliffe’s gaze lingered on my neck. “Sunday at three then.”
“I’ll be there. Good night.”
To my relief, Mr. Radcliffe put his hands in his pockets and walked back toward his house.
When I got inside, I was so shaken up that I didn’t notice for several minutes that the red light of my answering machine was blinking. I punched the button and could barely hear Lucky’s voice because he was speaking quietly with lots of background noise. “Sorry I didn’t say hi, but we gotta keep a low profile. Until it’s official. Night.”
The fact that he’d left a message was as soothing as the way he licked my wounds, and I played the message over and over again while I pressed the collar of the sweatshirt to my nose and breathed in the comforting green scent. Everything would be better when Lucky and I were official.
She spoke: a soft soothing voice, a voice that carried a spell with it, and affected us both strangely, particularly the rector. I wished to test as far as possible, without endangering our lives, the Vampire’s power.
F. G. Loring, “The Tomb of Sarah” (1900)
Chapter 29
On Sunday, when I went to the Radcliffes’, I saw a gleaming black Mercedes parked in the driveway.
My headmistress answered the door. “Come on in, Jane. The Director is talking to Lucian in Mr. Radcliffe’s study. Let’s wait in the family room.”
As we passed the living room, I noticed vases of fresh flowers on the polished tables and a fire burning in the fireplace.
Mrs. Radcliffe said, “You look like a different girl than you did the other night, Jane. Quite the young lady.”
“Hattie told me that I should wear LBDs to Family meetings. I’m sorry, but I left Jack’s sweatshirt—Mr. Radcliffe loaned it to me—at the cottage. I can go back and get it.”
“He’s got a drawer full of them, and he won’t miss it. Or maybe I won’t miss it. Jacob’s practicing with his band today.” She nervously played with a long strand of pearls. “It will only be a little wait.”
“Mrs. Radcliffe, what made you decide to teach Night Terrors?”
She looked pleased. “I started reading supernatural mythology when I was young. I was trying to find out why people hated and feared us so much. The more I read, the more I understood that literature reflects zeitgeist, which means the cultural climate of an age. I became fascinated with the progression of supernatural literature in conjunction with social and political movements, and that’s how my course developed.”
“What does current supernatural fiction tell you about our, uhm…”
“Zeitgeist.” She spelled it out. “I’ll tell you when I prepare my class for next year.”
“In other words, you haven’t figured it out yet.”
Mrs. Radcliffe laughed, something she didn’t do often. “You are an astute young woman, Jane. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
“Have your kind always existed?”
“We’ve traced our people to villages on the Black Sea. When the traders on the Silk Road intermarried with the villagers, our genetic anomaly appeared in their children. Our kind migrated from those villages north and west. Our largest populations were in Eastern Europe.” She paused. “Most of us were wiped out by genocidal campaigns instigated by those who wanted to take our lands and wealth, but you won’t find that in the history books.”
“That’s what I told Hattie about history! It’s inherently biased because it’s always written by those who win the battles.”
“That may be true, Jane, but we can still glean facts by analyzing a range of source material.” Then we heard voices and movement at the front of the house, and Mrs. Radcliffe’s hand went to her necklace again. “It’s time. Be yourself, Jane, and you’ll be fine.”
She led me into the living room. I’d expected Lucky to be there, but there was only Mr. Radcliffe and another man, a man who made Tobias Radcliffe seem worn and shabby.
The visitor had deep brown curly hair, hooded brown eyes, strong features, and wore a flawless black suit and snowy-white shirt. Almost six feet and broad-chested, he emanated power even as he stood casually with a glass of red wine.
“This is Jane Williams,” Mrs. Radcliffe said, but she didn’t introduce him to me.
“Hello, Jane.” The man’s disarming smile made me feel that we had just shared a private joke. “Hyacinth and Tobias, I’d like to talk to Jane alone.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Radcliffe blushed prettily, and I wondered what she’d been like when she was my age.
When they left, the man waved to a tray of wine and soda on a side table. “Would you like something to drink, Jane?”
“No, thank you, sir. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“I’m Ian Ducharme. I represent this region on the Council. Not that Hyacinth leaves much for us to do. She likes to control every detail of her school and the town operates quite smoothly.” His voice was low and persuasive and, although his English was perfect, he seemed foreign. “Shall we sit?”
He waited until I sat on the sofa and then sat near me, making the hair on the back of my neck rise.
“Jane, you’re too young to fully comprehend what a lifetime commitment is. No doubt, the Radcliffes have idealized the relationship in courting you, but Companions sometimes come to regret their decision. They rarely regret the generous compensation.” He smiled cynically. “We buy loyalty, Jane. Most people are quite eager to sell it.”
I studied him. “You remind me of Jack Radcliffe. He likes to say things to unnerve me. There’s a physical resemblance, too.”
“So I’m of a type?” he said wryly. “Now I must meet Jack to discover whether you’ve given me a compliment or not.”
“It wasn’t meant one way or the other.”
“Why not? Don’t you wish to cultivate my favor? I have influence in the world, you know, and I’m quite wealthy. Women find me extremely handsome.”
His sexuality was as compelling as a riptide, and I wondered what it would be like to feel those white teeth biting into my throat. I glanced away. “For most people, being rich and powerful are synonymous with being handsome.”
“That’s been to my benefit, Jane. The very people who find me so attractive might decide they are quite mistaken should I ever lose my fortune.”
I liked him because he treated me like an equal. “I think you’d get over it.”
He had a rich, low laugh. “Now it’s my turn to tell you what I think about you. I think Hyacinth may have miscalculated. The best Companions are those who are happiest when they’re serving others. I think you do what is required to survive,
but I doubt that subservience is your nature. Will you be loyal for a price?”
“Loyalty that can be bought isn’t loyalty. I’ve already promised Lucky that I’ll be his Companion. I keep my promises.”
“Will you keep your promise for an eternity?”
“I won’t live forever. I’ll keep it for my lifetime.”
“That will have to suffice,” he said. “Hyacinth has reviewed your academic records, interviewed your teachers and social workers, and come to the conclusion that you are an ideal candidate for her son. However, when I look into your eyes, I see something other than the simple girl you appear to be.”
“I thought Companions were selected because we’ve all survived unfortunate situations. I’m not special.”
I didn’t know why he seemed so amused, and he said, “It’s a mystery to me why extraordinary young women insist that they’re normal.” He finished his wine and set down the glass. “I’m rarely contacted in these petty domestic affairs, but the Radcliffes have ambitions for their son and requested my approval.”
“Mr. Radcliffe told me that Lucky will be on the Council’s education committee and inherit Birch Grove.”
“At the very least. The Radcliffes and their Greenwood branch have been petitioning for a new district to be formed and, with it, a new Council Director seat.”
“So Lucky could replace you?”
“I’m irreplaceable, Jane, but he might be a colleague.” Mr. Ducharme leaned toward me. “What would you like me to tell Hyacinth and Tobias?”
“What I want you to say doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Not in the least, but I wondered if you would try to plead your case.” He stood and so I stood, too. “Jane, a word of warning—this branch of the Family does not take betrayal lightly. I do not take betrayal lightly.” He locked eyes with me and I felt the prickly rush of fear. “You may go now.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Ducharme.”
“Until we meet again, Jane Williams.”
Mrs. Radcliffe asked me to wait in the family room. I nervously scraped off my nail polish and expected to be told to leave the school. When she returned, she was beaming. “Mr. Ducharme was absolutely satisfied that you’ll be an excellent Companion, Jane! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised, and I hadn’t gotten over my surprise an hour later, when Hattie arrived.
“Jane, I heard you passed with flying colors. Congrats!” She gave me a hug. “We’re going to run through your part of the ceremony. Only a week more! Can you believe it?”
“It’s happening awfully fast. Is Lucky coming?”
Mrs. Radcliffe said, “He only has two lines and he already knows them. Jane, I have something for you.” She handed me a small bag that had been on a side table. “A laptop is coming, but you should be able to log on to Birch Grove’s computers with your name and student ID number.”
I opened the bag to find a new phone and accessories. “Thank you!”
“It doesn’t have all the new bells and whistles, but I believe it’s more than adequate for your needs. Your teachers and school numbers have already been entered. Nine-one-one gives you a hotline to our emergency services,” Mrs. Radcliffe said. “Please respect our Birch Grove regulations about texting and phoning and, Jane, please don’t contact your old friends.”
She’d paid for the phone, so I nodded, because I could buy my own phone without restrictions later and wouldn’t ever need to use the burner. Then Hattie and I walked down to the amphitheater.
“So what did you think of Ian Ducharme?”
“I liked him even though I get the feeling he’s really dangerous. It’s probably just my imagination.”
“You should trust your instincts more. No one will talk about everything he actually does for the Council, but his nickname is the Dark Lord. The few times I’ve talked to him, I wanted to beg him to ravish me and he’s not even my type!”
“Your type? But I thought he resembled Jack a bit.”
“Oh, I meant that I like guys our age, not older guys.”
The marble benches of the amphitheater almost glowed in the dusky light. Hattie pointed to one side. “The local Family members and friends will be standing here when you enter from over there. You walk around the outer circle and then to the center, where an officiate will be waiting. The Council will send someone who knows the ceremonies. You stand in front of him while he says the mumbo-jumbo, which translates into how much we cherish the Companions and the importance of family and duty.”
“How do I know it really means that?”
“Because all of our ceremonies are about family and duty, but you can ask Mrs. Radcliffe to let you read the Family’s ceremonies binder for the exact translation.”
Hattie taught me the strange words I’d have to say and rehearsed them with me. I struggled through a sentence several times. “This language is all consonants and no vowels.”
“Nobody can pronounce it except the officiates, and they’re probably guessing,” Hattie told me. “All you have to do is approximate the words, and the adults will be happy. Once you say your lines and Lucky says his lines, there’s a tiny jab on your forefinger, enough to get a few drops of blood for symbolism. The officiate will give you a drink of this awful liquor made with herbs from one of the old recipes. You and Lucky each have to take a drink. Mrs. Radcliffe will make sure it’s watered down and sweetened so you don’t automatically spit it out.”
“When I saw the harvest ceremony, everyone was wearing robes.”
“You’ll get one, and a pretty white dress to wear underneath for the party afterward.” She smiled. “I picked it out myself when you were trying on clothes at the mall. The seamstress in town will hem them to the right length so you don’t trip.”
“That’s good, because wearing a toga at Latin Skit Night was harder than I thought it would be. MV would say that it’s my tragic fate to wear crazy robes and speak in dead languages.”
Mary Violet might have been wrong about me having a good sense of humor, because Hattie barely smiled. “Anyway, the whole thing only takes fifteen minutes and then Lucky will be able to suck your blood happily ever after.”
“Hattie, are you absolutely sure this is okay with you?”
She pressed her lips together before saying, “I think Lucky’s not ready to have a Companion, but since he’s decided to go through with this now, I’m glad it’s with you because you’ll keep him grounded.”
“I’m going to try, but it’s not going to be easy.”
“Because he’s such a prince, I know.” She made a face and we laughed. “Jane, I’ve never told anyone else this, but…”
“Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” Her face lit up. “My plan is to be the first female Council Director. Except for Ian Ducharme, they’re ancient sexist geezers with outdated attitudes. They want us to stay hidden forever and stay the way we are. I have so many ideas on how to improve our lives, from political alliances to gene therapy for us and for Normals.”
“That sounds amazing! But Mr. Ducharme said that the Radcliffes want Lucky to be a director of a new division.”
“He told you that? It’s true, but that may not be what Lucky wants. He’s not interested in being a policy wonk, and I love all that stuff.”
“I don’t even know what a policy wonk is, but you can count on me to help any way I can.”
“A policy wonk is someone who works out details and strategy to get things done. It will be great to have you on my side.” She held her fist toward me. “Grrl power!”
“Grrl power!” I bumped fists with her and thought about the satisfied way Mr. Radcliffe had told me that he owned Birch Grove.
“I want you to lead such a life as will make the world respect you. I want you to have a clean name and a fair record. I want you to get rid of the dreadful people you associate with. Don’t shrug your shoulders like that. Don’t be so indifferent. You have a wonderful influence. Let it be f
or good, not for evil.”
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890)
Chapter 30
The week before the Sunday ceremony was the longest in my life and I remember each day distinctly.
On Monday, I went to Mary Violet’s and, since the sun was out, we studied on the lawn. My friend had raised her skirt and taken off her shoes and socks. “I need to get tan. These are the last rays of the year. I will never give in to the pasty aesthetic like Hattie, although she’s the prettiest pasty girl I know. Pasty sounds ugly. She’s the prettiest pallid girl I know.”
“MV, do you ever go to Hattie’s house?”
“I used to go sometimes, but I don’t even want to anymore since Mrs. Tyler is a terrible horrible heinous snob and she said something mean about Mom’s paintings.” Mary Violet’s blue eyes clouded in hurt. “No one’s allowed to say how appalling they are, except us, and that’s because we know they’re actually marvelous. I think Hattie doesn’t get along with her parents.”
“Hattie’s not snobby at all, though. She’s so smart and thoughtful.”
“She is, as Mrs. Radcliffe says, an exceptional girl.” Mary Violet became more serious than I’d ever seen her. “You’ve been spending so much time with her. I think you like her better than you like me. Constance has all her other friends, and I thought you sort of got me, because I think I sort of get you. I know I’m too silly…” Her voice trailed off.
“MV, you’re fabulously silly. I’m spending time with Hattie because Mrs. Radcliffe wants her to make sure I’m doing okay here.” I wished I could have told MV more and then I decided to share something else. “I was lonely a lot in my life and I don’t feel that way here. Please don’t give up trying to funnify me. You’re improving my vocabulary.”
“I noticed!” Mary Violet leaned against me, her golden curls tickling my face. “You can share my family, but you have to agree to share the shame of the paintings.”
“I love your mom’s paintings.”
