Jane Slayre Read Free Page B

woke again to darkness. How I wished it could be the sun!
    Somehow, I found strength to return to my stool. I shook with fear, or perhaps rage. John Reed's vicious attacks, his tyranny, occupied my mind. What if he struck again? How could he be stopped? I felt my head, my hair sticky with dried blood, and my neck, still sore at the wound, the handkerchief Bessie bound me with damp but not soaked. I thought of Eliza, headstrong and selfish but still respected, asking for a taste of me, her mother's admonishment delivered to protect Eliza from my common taint rather than to save me from harm. I was glad Georgiana hadn't asked. She, with her spoiled temper, was universally indulged and might have been allowed a sample, just small enough to satisfy without putting her in danger of contamination.
    Georgiana's beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. John no one thwarted, much less punished; though he tortured servants, snacked between meals on the little peachicks and barn cats, stripped the hothouse vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the conservatory. He liked to call his mother "old girl," too. He bluntly disregarded her wishes, often tore and spoiled her silk attire, ridiculed her appearance for the dark shadows under her eyes that were similar to his own; and he was still "her own darling." I dared commit no fault. I strove to fulfill every duty. And I was termed naughty and tiresome, too cheerful, and sneaking, from dusk to midnight, and from midnight to dawn.
    "Unjust!" said my reason. Why should I suffer their accusations
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    and live with John Reed's bullying and without the sun? Could I run away? Where would I go? How would I find food? Might it be worth it to take the chance even if death was my reward? I would die free of the Reeds, at least, and with a bright sun shining to warm my limbs as I passed.
    How cold I was without a fire. I began to shake with chills, or was it weakness? I couldn't run away when it was a struggle to remain sitting upright, let alone attempt to stand or walk. Yet my mind reeled.
    Gateshead Hall sheltered a family of vampyres, an undead maid, some two dozen mortal servants who were paid well for their silence and their service, and me. Where did I fit in? I was like nobody there.
    Eventually darkness began to make way for day. The clouded night grew lighter with the dawn. I heard the rain begin to stop, and the howling wind give way to tranquil breezes. I grew colder still, but my heart warmed. My courage rose. The Reeds would soon be off to bed, and I might be forgotten and get a glimpse of sunlight. I might see the day break, bright and beautiful, over the valley beyond the fields surrounding the house. My cheer returned.
    What delirium had led me to think such thoughts as I had? I was aware that I never wished to be like the Reeds, and nothing could have induced me to drink another being's blood, most especially John Reed's. If he came to me now and gave me the choice that my uncle's attackers had reportedly given him, to drink or die, I would indeed choose death and not be sorry for it. But to give up without a fight? To admit defeat at John Reed's hands? Never. I did not have it in me to concede. Running away and dying of want would as much be giving John Reed his triumph as if I drank of his blood after he began to drain me of mine.
    I would live to see the sun. There, it came up over the field, just peeking out from a cloud. I drew closer to the window and squinted through the pane only to fall from the ottoman again. On the floor, I let the light wash over me, warming me and growing brighter as
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    it rose. Or was it all a dream? I closed my eyes, I thought for just a second, but when I opened them again, the light was gone. As I sat squinting through the darkness towards the dimly gleaming windowpanes, I began to recall Bessie's nighttime tales of dead men