The Shadow Girl of Birch Grove (30 page)

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Hattie said. “Why would Bebe leave and then

come back to harass you?”

“What if she didn’t leave on her own?” I said. “Maybe she was asked to

leave. Lucky said she had an edge. Maybe she’s angry that she’s been replaced

and trying to scare me off.”

Hattie shook her head. “It’s impossible. The Family knows who comes in

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and out of Greenwood and they’re too careful to let anything like that happen.

I’m sure they know exactly where Bebe is now, and they’ve made it worth her

while to keep quiet.”

“Well, it was a theory,” I said.

“It’s probably someone like Sage,” she said, “hassling you secretly because

she’d get expelled if she was caught.”

“Hattie, I’ve been wondering if being a companion is so great, why did

Mrs. Mason commit suicide?”

“Poor Claire.” Hattie’s eyes glistened and she blinked. “None of the adults

will talk about it so all I can tell you is what I’ve guessed. The Masons never had

kids and when she finally started getting a belly, we all got excited. Then she

miscarried and her whole personality changed. She had major mood swings,

laughing one minute and crying over nothing the next.”

Hattie took a sip of her cranberry juice. “Mr. Mason was going to take her

on a vacation so she could rest and recover. The night they were supposed to

leave, she jumped off the roof.”

“Poor woman, poor Mr. Mason!”

“I think she had post-partum depression. Everyone felt horrible because

they didn’t get real help for her.”

“Isn’t it strange that Mr. Mason stays at Birch Grove?”

“It’s his home. The Family will always take care of him and, who knows,

he might meet someone else eventually.”

“I liked him from the start,” I said. “Is it only the men who have

companions?”

“Only the men. Girls have to learn how to control ourselves and act like

ladies, even when we want to rip someone’s throat out and drain their bodies.”

She saw my expression and added, “I’m kidding. Supposedly, the guys can be

dangerous because they’re impulsive
and
strong.”

“Why do you say ’supposedly?’”

“How can I know for sure? We women have to take their word for it, but

what if the men only say that they need companions, when they really
want

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them?”

“Hattie, what’s tasting blood feel like to you? Is it sexual?”

She hesitated. “Animal blood is just really pleasurable, like good wine, I

guess. But human blood is more like a drug, and it can be very erotic. Or maybe

it just depends on
whose
blood you’re drinking,” she said. “That’s one of the

reasons I find the companion relationships so confusing. Everyone else seems

happy with things the way they are.”

“Hattie, you have your family and
The
Family. I have no one. This offer…

how could I refuse it when I’d want to help Lucky anyway?”

She reached out to touch my hand. “I didn’t mean to judge. I’d do the

same thing if I was in your situation.”

By the time that we were done shopping, I had several new tops, pants,

skirts, dresses, and shoes. Hattie led me to the accessories section of a store

where the handbags were in stunning displays under pinpoint lights. “Mrs.

Monroe doesn’t like Trendy Status Accessories, but if you want something, we

can get it.”

“Won’t people wonder why a scholarship girl has a TSA?” I asked. “Not to

mention the new clothes.”

“We’ll say a donor gifted the clothes to you. The trick is to find TSAs that

aren’t obviously TSAs.” Together we picked out a tote, handbag, and clutch that

didn’t have noticeable labeling. The shocking totals gave me my first real

concept of how my life would be different from now on.

On the way back, Hattie stopped in Greenwood. “I need the jeweler to fix

something,” she said as she parked in front of a small shop.

While she showed the jeweler the broken clasp on a necklace, I stood near

the door, glancing at the spotless glass cabinets filled with jewelry, watches, and

gold pens.

Hattie called me to the counter and said, “Jane, come try these on.”

The jeweler was bringing out a blue velvet tray that displayed sparkling

rings.

“Hattie…” I was used to neighborhoods where stores posted signs saying

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One student at a time!

“It’s okay to look,” Hattie told me. She held out an emerald ring for me.

“Try it on.”

I slipped it on my finger and it slipped sideways. “It’s too big.”

“You have delicate hands,” the jeweler said. “This might fit better.” He

took my hand and slid on a sapphire and diamond ring. He wiggled it and said,

“How does that feel?”

I held my hand up and studied the way the gems caught and refracted the

light. “Perfect. Thank you,” I said as I took it off and handed it back to him.

Hattie was playing with an ornate topaz and diamond ring. “This is the sort

of big, shiny thing Mary Violet would love.” She flipped her hands and said, “So

tragic that everyone isn’t as glamorous as me!” and I laughed at her imitation.

Hattie moved along the counter to a display of penknives. “Maybe Lucky

will get you one,” she said.

“He offered.” Now I knew why she had one.

When we got back to campus, Hattie helped carry my shopping bags to the

cottage. “You seem very calm about all this,” she said. “I’d be tripping if

someone told me there were werewolves and they’d like me to be a werewolf’s

BFF.”

“Can I ask you something, Hattie?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know why Jack doesn’t want me to be around Lucky?”

She paused before speaking. “Bebe had a long time to get to know us, and I

thought we really knew her, too. She was so motivated by the money and the

Family’s power that I never thought she’d bail.” Hattie shrugged. “You’re

different. I think that worries Jack.”

“The way he talks to me is so confusing. I thought he might not like me.”

“The only thing you’ve got to worry about is if
Lucky
likes you,” she said.

“I’ve got to go and hit the books.”

“Thanks, Hattie, for everything. For being so nice from the start.”

She smiled. “Jane, it’s easy being nice to you. See you tomorrow.”

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“Bye.”

After she left, I took my new clothes out of the shopping bags, and selected

the least useful ones. I set them on one side of the closet and put the shopping

receipt in my wallet.

I had a place to live, clothes and cash, a position and security for life, and a

relationship with a gorgeous guy. So why did I suddenly feel so empty and worn

out?

I remembered that I hadn’t slept last night. I showered and went to bed.

ON SUNDAY MORNING,
I stayed in bed fantasizing about going to

college with Lucky. We’d have heavy, unmarked textbooks, desks with new

laptops, wonderful classes… It would be fun to live in a dorm, but we might have

to live off-campus for privacy.

The phone startled me out of my reverie. Mrs. Monroe asked if I’d come

up early. “We’d like you and Lucky to meet with a counselor about your

responsibilities and about the initiation ceremony. We’ll have lunch together

after.”

She made it sound so normal. I spent too long trying on my new clothes,

wanting to look right, and finally decided on a plain navy skirt and a white blouse

because I thought Mrs. Monroe would approve.

When I arrived at the house, she smiled and said, “You look like a young

lady now. You’ll be meeting in my husband’s study so you’ll be free to talk,” she

said.

She showed me to a dark room with a big dark wood desk in the middle of

the room and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on all four walls. Lucky was slouched

in an armchair, his legs sprawled out, and an older woman sat at the desk.

She had a chic, short haircut that showed off a small, angular face. Rimless

glasses were propped on her button nose. She wore a soft yellow sweater, a floral

print skirt, and a dramatic necklace of turquoise and amber stones.

“Nina, this is Jane Williams,” Mrs. Monroe said. “Jane, this is Nina

Rector.”

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“Hello, Jane. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”

“Hello, ma’am.”

Mrs. Monroe said, “Nina, I’ll be in the family room if you need anything.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

“Have a seat, Jane,” Ms. Rector said and I sat next to Lucky.

“Hey,” he said to me.

“Hi.”

“Congratulations, Jane! I know how very exciting this is for you. My

parents died when I was young, drugs, and I was living on the streets before The

Family rescued me,” Mrs. Rector said. “I became a Companion when I was about

your age. It was the best thing I ever did.”

She was so polished and well-spoken that it was hard for me to imagine her

on the streets and alone.

“Let’s start with an overview,” she said and then went over the things that

Mrs. Monroe had told me. “I tell you these things because I’ve been assured that

you comprehend our need for confidentiality.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Excellent! Now let’s go over safety precautions. I cannot stress the

importance of being careful in your interactions. Jane, Lucien’s blood could be

fatal if it contaminated your blood-system.”

“I had no idea,” I said, stunned. I turned toward Lucky. He yawned and

stared at his shoes. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was being careful,” he said. “The very last thing I want to do is infect

you. I told you – I want you healthy.”

Ms. Rector nodded. “It’s an unfortunate problem. If you have an open cut

on your skin or your mouth, touching his blood or even ingesting it – and don’t

object because I’ve seen everything – could be deadly. Don’t take that chance.”

“What happens if he’s hurt, or in an accident?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I help

him?”

“Lucien, would you please demonstrate to Jane?”

“Sure,” Lucky said. He pulled out his penknife and, before I could stop

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him, he scratched the back of his hand with the blade. The cut turned red with

blood and then, as we watched, the skin mended itself. Lucky licked off the blood

to reveal unmarked skin.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Ms. Rector said. “Jane, members of the Family heal

easily from minor injuries, so don’t worry about them. If Lucien’s badly injured,

you’ve got to contact us immediately so that our medical teams get to him before

anyone else. Never,
ever
rely on any other medical assistance.”

She reached down and lifted a dark brown leather satchel onto the desk.

“Let’s move on,” she said. She took out surgical gloves, antiseptic spray, rubbing

alcohol, bandages, a scalpel, a hypodermic needle, disinfectant wipes, a length of

rubber tubing, and small glass cylinders. “Here are some popular tools for safe

and healthy blood-letting. Come take a look.”

Lucky was instantly alert. He went to the desk, his lips parted with the

same expression he’d had when he saw my cut finger..

I went to the desk and picked up a cylinder with a needle at one end.

Ms. Rector said, “That’s a venepucture vacuum system, a very good way of

taking a sample. Of course, some partners prefer a more
intimate
transfer, which

is acceptable since the condition isn’t contagious through saliva.”

There was something perverse about the matter-of-fact way she mentioned

it:
intimate
transfer.

Ms. Rector said, “You need to talk about scarring. Some partners enjoying

seeing evidence of their relationship, and others want to minimize scarring. Have

you talked about it?”

“We’ll figure it out later,” Lucky said, but I knew the marks on my skin

turned him on.

“I don’t want scars.”

Lucky glared at me, and Ms. Rector said, “That’s a wise decision. Over the

course of many years, scar tissue builds up and interferes with blood draws.”

She showed us the different ways to take blood and said, “Jane, while we

don’t condone under-age alcohol consumption, we make an exception for use as

pain-management during more
intimate
withdrawals. A glass of wine can help

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you relax and enjoy the experience. There are also topical anesthetics. Obviously

they interfere with your partner’s pleasure. Or you may relish the
intensity
of a

withdrawal without any dulling substances.” She smiled suggestively.

“It doesn’t hurt too much,” I said.

“Hurt doesn’t have to be bad, dear. It’s all how you choose to interpret the

sensation. But we can discuss that another time,” she said. “There is one area of

concern. Lucien, you may be aware that some Family members have been using

custom-made dental devices – fangs --for blood-letting.”

“I know,” he said. “They’re kind of cool.”