Little Vampire Women

by Louisa May Alcott

  “Nothing. It’s dull as tombs up here.”

  “Don’t you read?”

  “Not much. They won’t let me.”

  “Can’t somebody read to you?”

  “Grandpa does sometimes, but my books don’t interest him, and I hate to ask Brooke, my tutor, all the time.”

  “Have someone come and see you then.”

  “There isn’t anyone I’d like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head is weak.”

  “Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you? Girls are quiet and like to play nurse.”

  “Don’t know any.”

  “You know us,” began Jo, then laughed and stopped.

  “But you’re not girls, you’re vampires,” cried Laurie.

  “I’m not quiet and nice either, but I’ll come, if Mother will let me. I’ll go ask her. Shut the window, like a good boy, and wait till I come.”

  With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, wondering what they would all say to her. Marmee did not protest the visit, for she firmly believed that the only way to improve vampire-human relations was to increase vampire-human interaction, and, after fortifying her daughter against any unbecoming urges with a tall glass of pig’s blood, sent her to the neighbor’s house with her blessing.

  Laurie was in a flutter of excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready, for as Mrs. March said, he was “a little gentleman,” and did honor to the coming guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh collar, and trying to tidy up the room, which in spite of half a dozen servants, was anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, then a decided voice, asking for “Mr. Laurie,” and a surprised-looking servant came running up to announce the vampire.

  “All right, show her up, it’s Miss Jo,” said Laurie, going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared with a covered dish in one hand and three kittens in the other.

  “Here I am, bag and baggage,” she said briskly. “Mother sent her love, and was glad if I could do anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring some of her blanc mange,13 and Beth thought cats would be comforting. I knew you’d laugh at them because you don’t suck the blood out of living animals or even dead ones, but I couldn’t refuse, she was so anxious to do something.”

  It so happened that Beth’s funny loan was just the thing, for in laughing over the fact that, no, he did not suck the blood out of living animals or even dead ones, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew sociable at once.

  “That looks too pretty to eat,” he said, smiling with pleasure, his manners unfailingly polite, as Jo uncovered the dish, and showed the blanc mange, surrounded by a garland of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy’s pet geranium.

  “It isn’t anything. Meg has no idea how to cook so she just put something white in a saucer. I don’t know what it is but I’m sure it’s inedible. What a cozy room this is!”

  “How kind you are! Yes, please take the big chair and let me do something to amuse my company.”

  “No, I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?” and Jo looked toward some books nearby.

  “Thank you! I’ve read all those, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather talk,” answered Laurie.

  “Not a bit. I’ll talk all night if you’ll only set me going. Beth says I never know when to stop.”

  “Is Beth the one who stays at home a good deal and sometimes goes out with a little basket?” asked Laurie with interest.

  “Yes, that’s Beth. She’s my girl, and a regular good one she is, too.”

  “The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe?”

  “How did you find that out?”

  Laurie colored up, but answered frankly, “Why, you see I often hear you calling to one another, and when I’m alone up here, I can’t help looking over at your house, you always seem to be having such good times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to put down the curtain. And when the lamps are lighted, it’s like looking at a picture to see you all around the table with your mother, taking turns draining every last little drop of blood out of a beaver or other small mammal. I haven’t got any mother, you know.” And Laurie poked the fire to hide a little twitching of the lips that he could not control.

  The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo’s heart. She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head. Laurie was sick and lonely, and feeling how rich she was in home and happiness, she gladly tried to share it with him. Her face was very friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said…

  “We’ll never draw that curtain anymore, and I give you leave to look as much as you like. I just wish, though, instead of peeping, you’d come over and see us. Mother is so splendid, she’d do you heaps of good, and Beth would sing to you if I begged her to, and Amy would dance. Meg and I would make you laugh over our hunts, and we’d have jolly times. Wouldn’t your grandpa let you?”

  “He’s very kind, though he does not look so, and he lets me do what I like, pretty much, only he’s afraid of vampires,” began Laurie.

  “We are not only vampires, we are neighbors, too, and he needn’t think we’d eat you. We are strict humanitarians!”

  “You see, Grandpa lives among his books, and doesn’t mind much what happens outside, so he doesn’t know there are good vampires like your family out there.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Do you like your school?” asked the boy, changing the subject, after a little pause, during which he stared at the fire and Jo looked about her, well pleased.

  “Don’t go to school, I’m a vampire defender—well, right now I’m in training. I protect my great-aunt from imagined assassins, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too,” answered Jo.

  Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question, but remembering just in time that it wasn’t manners to make too many inquiries into vampires’ affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable.

  Jo liked his good breeding, and didn’t mind having a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him a lively description of the paranoid old lady, her aunt’s parrot that talked Spanish, and the study where she reveled.

  Laurie enjoyed that immensely, so she told him about the prim old gentleman vampire who came once to woo Aunt March. In the middle of his fine speech, Poll tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, so the suitor bit the head off the bird in retribution. But the parrot was itself of a special avian vampire species, so its head grew immediately back to insult the gentleman anew. The boy was so amused, he lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and a maid popped her head in to make sure the young master wasn’t being consumed by his guest.

  “Oh! That does me no end of good. Tell on, please,” he said, taking his face out of the sofa cushion, red and shining with merriment.

  Much elated with her success, Jo did “tell on,” all about her famous defender uncle, her plans to follow in his footsteps, and her fond wish to someday invent a clever instrument that would improve the method by which one caught slayers—though what that was, she couldn’t imagine. Then they got to talking about books, and to Jo’s delight, she found that Laurie loved adventure tales as well as she did and had read more than herself.

  “I wish I could be a vampire so I could go on grand hunts, too,” he said.

  “Oh, you don’t have to be a vampire to go on hunts. Anyone can do it.”

  “But you have special powers,” pointed out Laurie.

  Jo shrugged. “Not really. I know people go on about our special vampire strength and senses, but it’s a lot of work to develop those things and nobody bothers anymore. Now we use clever instruments like the one I’m going to invent. The new method employs the many modern advances of science and is far superior to the old method of relying on natural skill and instinct. All you need is a daily regimen of calisthenics and barbell lifting to be strong. I’d be happy to train you myself.”

  “But you can see in the dark and hear
and smell things from far away.”

  Jo admitted that these were advantages of her race but insisted that devoted study could go a long way to compensate for their lack.

  Laurie’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Really?”

  “Absolutely! It’s simply a matter of hard work.”

  “My grandfather would never agree. Couldn’t you just turn me into a vampire? That way, I don’t need his permission.”

  “I couldn’t possibly,” said Jo earnestly, not sure if he was teasing but also not caring, for she hated the thought of turning any mortal man. She knew all vampires did it eventually, for that was how they mated, but she couldn’t bear the thought of doing it herself. Although there were many reasons to sire that didn’t include finding a lifemate, such as friendship, whimsy, fondness, or spite, the act always created some kind of connection and Jo loved her independence too well to be tied to anybody on such a deep and abiding level. She knew her sisters would do it one day, though perhaps not Beth, who was far too shy. But that was a long way off—a decade, at least—so she wouldn’t have to think about it for ages. “But I’ll talk to your grandfather.”

  “You aren’t afraid of him?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” returned Jo, with a toss of the head.

  “I don’t believe you are!” exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much admiration and desiring the vampire state even more for the courage it seemed to confer.

  Laurie led her to the library to wait for his grandfather. It was lined with books, and there were pictures and statues, and distracting little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and Sleepy Hollow chairs, and queer tables, and bronzes, and best of all, a great open fireplace with quaint tiles all round it.

  “What richness!” sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velour chair and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. “Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world,” she added impressively.

  “A fellow can’t live on books,” said Laurie, shaking his head as he perched on a table opposite.

  She stood before a fine portrait of the old gentleman and said decidedly, “I’m sure now that I shouldn’t be afraid of him, for he’s got kind eyes, though his mouth is grim, and he looks as if he had a tremendous will of his own.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said a gruff voice behind her, and there, to her great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence with a wooden stake raised high in his hand.

  For a minute a wild desire to run away possessed her, but that was cowardly, and the girls would laugh at her, so she resolved to stay and get out of the scrape as she could. She hated the thought of hurting her new friend’s elderly relative but she would gladly knock him down with a scissor kick if necessary to her survival.

  The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman said abruptly, after the dreadful pause, “So you’re not afraid of me, hey?”

  “Not much, sir,” she said with a glance to the stake.

  Mr. Laurence took a threatening step forward. “What have you been doing to this boy of mine, hey?” was the next question, sharply put.

  “Only trying to be neighborly, sir.” And Jo told how her visit came about.

  “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.

  Chapter Six

  BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL

  To 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 Beautiful14 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…