Chapter 11: Dungeons & Dracula

Seeking feedback on my work-in-process cozy fantasy novel, Jack and the Beanstalk Cafe.

Gillian

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“Jack, are you sure you’re ok with this?”

Gillian stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching Jack pack his leather satchel with all his research papers and a change of clothes. Her own packed rucksack was slung over her shoulder.

“A train ride to Bath? Yeah, Gill. I am.”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “It’s Gillian, and you know I mean breaking into the castle.”

Their plan was simple.

In the sense that it was more like guidelines than an actual plan. Their train would bring them into Bath at a quarter to nine, where they’d catch a cab to the castle. From there they would– well, this is where their plan fell apart. Unless you count sneak in and find something that looks important as a plan.

“I already broke the researchers’ most sacred oath when I stole library books. What’s a little trespassing?” Jack laughed.

Gillian rolled her eyes again and left Jack to finish his packing.

Downstairs, she found Philomena in the kitchen, preparing bowls of rising bread dough for overnight proofing.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Philomena asked, dusting her hands off on her small apron. “It’s dawn in eleven hours, you know.”

“That’s why we’re bringing overnight bags. We’ll find an inn before sunrise,” Gillian promised, her fingers looped into the straps of her rucksack. After staying out all night breaking into the castle, she was sure she could convince Jack to spend the day sleeping before getting a train back to London.

As she pushed through the back door and into the cafe’s dining room, she found Jack and Alban standing by the door, whispering. Even with Gillian’s preternatural senses, she couldn’t hear their conversation.

Jack glanced up at Gillian and hit Alban lightly in the arm, shooting him a furtive look.

Gillian raised her eyebrows. “Everything ok?” she asked as she walked toward the pair.

Alban turned toward Gillian, while shoving a hand behind his back. Gillian saw a flash of paper before it was gone and his hand appeared again, empty.

“Gillian! All ready for your adventure?” Alban asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah…” she said, narrowing her eyes at Alban. “What’ve you got there, Al?”

“Actually, Gill,” Jack said in a rush. “We, uh, better hurry or we’ll miss the train.” He grabbed his leather satchel off the floor and held the door open for Gillian.

She walked past Alban, continuing to stare at him with a questioning look, but Alban only returned a pleasant, suspiciously innocent smile.

“Bye kids, have fun!” Alban gave a wink as he shut the door behind Jack.

As they stepped out into the evening, Gillian took a deep breath of fresh, cool air. She was getting used to Jack’s human scent, but having him in her small flat for days was making her thirst in a way she wasn’t used to.

The walk and tube ride to the train station was spent in mostly silence as Gillian’s thoughts drifted to the upcoming two hour journey. She should be worried about spending the time in a metal canister full of humans packed in like a tin of sardines. But she was mostly thinking of sitting next to Jack. They’d been together for days now, but there was always a distraction– researching, hunting runes, even eating. The idea of sitting side by side with nothing to do was making her heart rate increase more than it should have for the brisk walk.

By the time they reached Paddington Station, sweat slicked her palms as she thought of different conversation topics that might fill their time. What’s your favorite color? What are your hobbies?

Those were normal human things to ask, right?

Jack led them to their train and to a pair of seats at the back of one of the economy cars. The train was modern; fluorescent lights running down the aisle highlighted all the different shades of gray with a harsh glow.

He stowed both of their bags on the overhead rack, while Gillian settled into her seat by the window. She took a few steadying breaths and convinced herself that everything was going to be alright. But alas, the deep inhales only served to bring a barrage of enticing human scents.

This is fine. Everything is fine.

Jack sat in the aisle seat next to her and gave her a smile. It fell almost immediately when he caught her eye.

“Hey, is everything ok?” he asked, concern lining his eyes.

Gillian forced her face to rearrange itself into a pleasant smile– although if she were being honest with herself, it felt more like a grimace. An assessment confirmed by Jack’s unyielding look of worry.

“I’m fine. Just haven’t been away from the cafe in a long time,” she said somewhat truthfully.

“You really love your job, don’t you?” Jack smiled.

“Well,” she started.

Well, what Gillian? Well, I’m actually forced to be there because of a three hundred year sentence for crimes I most definitely committed?

She settled for a more palatable truth. “It’s become a home to me. Phi– that’s the cook– Philomena, actually. She took me in and has been a really good friend to me. And, of course, it wouldn’t be the same without Al.” She let out a breathy laugh. She could feel her heartbeats slow as she settled into the familiar topic.

“Phi? Al? How come you give everyone else a nickname but I can’t call you Gill?”

Gillian glanced out the window, although she could only see reflections as the train sped through the dark London night. She hadn’t really thought about it. She’d just never had a friend close enough to give her a pet name.

She turned back to him. “Why do you care? You barely even know me.”

“Maybe not. But I’m trying to fix that. How come you never tell me about yourself?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” As long as you don’t count the fact that she was a blood sucking monster working in a cafe full of magical creatures.

“Oh, come on,” Jack said with a quiet laugh. “Everyone has a story. Tell me about your childhood. Parents? Siblings?”

Gillian’s eyes widened.

Tell me about your childhood? This is considered small talk?

“Uh…” She tried to think of something that a normal human would say.

“That bad, huh?” Jack winced. “You know what? Let’s go for it. We’re getting deep. What is your worst childhood memory?”

She blinked at him and swallowed, the knot in her throat preventing her from answering.

“Ok, ok,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll go first but then you have to share something, too. Deal?”

Jack waited for Gillian to nod before continuing. “So, my parents died when I was seven. Car crash. No, no it’s fine,” he said, raising a hand to silence Gillian when she opened her mouth. “It was a long time ago, and I had wonderful foster parents– the Jacksons.”

“Hold on. Your name is Jack Jackson?”

Jack laughed. “No, I kept my birth parents’ name. I’m Jack Kyteler.”

There was that name again. Something flitted in the back of Gillian’s mind but was gone before she could grasp a firm hold.

“Anyway,” Jack continued. “Aside from my parents dying– which yeah, that was hard– my worst memory was the first day at my new school after I came to live with the Jacksons when I was eight. I didn’t have any relatives, so the Irish Foster Care Association had to find a placement and it took some time. I started in the middle of the school year, and the kids– Well, the kids were kids. Thoughtless and a little cruel. They practically interrogated me about what happened to my parents, why I was with the Jacksons, why no one loved me. You know, the usual.” Jack huffed out a small laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” Gillian said softly and reached out a hand to grasp Jack’s where it lay on his lap. There was only a light tingle where their skin touched, and she looked at their hands for a moment before raising her gaze to meet Jack’s.

He had such a deep sorrow in the depths of his eyes that she wanted to–

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a large jolt of power from his skin. The lights in the train flickered and the whole car rattled like a wind storm was trying to push it off the tracks.

Then, as quickly as it started, it all stopped, and everything returned to normal. The other riders looked around and a low murmur filled the train as the passengers checked in with their neighbors, asking what happened.

Gillian pulled her hand away as Jack also looked around the train for answers. He didn’t meet her eye but she could see him clenching his fist where it still lay in his lap.

Something isn’t right here. The problem was that Gillian had no idea what it could be.

***

Gillian and Jack spent the remainder of the ride in silence and their train arrived at Bath Spa Railway Station on schedule. Jack arranged for a cab to drop them off at a church that was a fifteen minute walk from the Hungerford Castle. No sense in having any witnesses to their trespassing. Gillian noted that he made normal small talk with the cabbie on the drive – no deep childhood trauma questions, this time.

The small church was situated on a dark, narrow lane. Only the waning gibbous moon to light their path past the lush countryside.

“So,” Jack started as the pair set off on foot to the castle. “You never told me your worst childhood memory.”

“Do we really have to do this now?”

“Would you rather talk about what happened on the train? What happens every time our skin touches? You feel it too, right?” Jack gave her a sideways glance as they walked along the paved road.

“So, my worst childhood memory,” Gillian began and Jack let out a loud, bellowing laugh.

“Shh!” Gillian admonished as her mind raced for a way to frame her actual worst childhood memory in a way Jack would understand. “When I was a child, my father would lock me in… my bedroom when I refused to eat… my vegetables. He put the plate of vegetables in my room with me until it was gone. No matter how long it took.”

Jack’s laugh this time was a deep, rich timbre that Gillian felt in her bones. But he quickly stifled it when he saw the look on her face.

Memories assaulted her, despite her efforts to force them down.

The ‘bedroom’ was actually a dungeon, and the ‘vegetables’… Well, those were humans.

Gillian was turned into a vampire when she was a small child, and she somehow held on to those brief human memories. Despite the thirst, despite the cravings, she refused to drink human blood.

Her father, however, disapproved of her diet.

To ‘cure the affliction,’ she was forced to spend months locked in his dungeon with human after human until she eventually relented. She tried hard. So, so hard not to give in. But thirst and the will to live is a powerful thing.

Gillian trembled, a shudder that had nothing to do with the chill night air.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Jack said softly. He slowly reached an arm around her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze as they continued up the roadway. “Childhood stuff is hard. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

Gillian felt something warm falling on her cheeks as she leaned into Jack’s side.

***

There were still seven hours until sunrise when they arrived at the large stone archway announcing their arrival at the Hungerford Castle. A temporary wooden sign placed in the middle of the path declared the castle closed for repairs and to come back again the following spring. Jack and Gillian skirted past the sign and into the castle grounds, a crow perched on the arch cawing ominously.

“Where should we start?” Jack asked.

“Maybe we should begin with the open spaces. We might get lucky and not have to break into the buildings.”

The castle itself was mostly ruins– squares of short stone walls bracketed by crumbling round towers. The pair passed the intact chapel and adjoining house, their steps on the damp gravel pathway the only sound as they set off toward the castle footprint.

“Let’s split up. You start with the east tower, and I’ll start with the west. We’ll meet in the middle,” Jack suggested.

Gillian walked east, along the perimeter of the castle grounds, searching for any sign of a rune or any other clue that might lead them to answers. The large round tower set into the corner of the estate reminded her of her father’s castle and her shoulders gave a small shudder. Once inside the crumbling structure, she searched the walls as far up as she could see, where the roofless round edges framed the bright moon.

“I didn’t find anything,” Jack said when they met again in the middle of the grounds.

“Me neither. I guess we really do have to trespass,” she said, her chest tightening at the thought. The last time Gillian had committed any crimes, she was caught and sentenced by the Count.

They approached the chapel, a stone structure with a sharply pitched roof and large, stained glass panels lining the walls. As they crept around the building checking for a way to enter, Jack nudged Gillian’s arm and pointed up the wall. She followed his gaze to a small window high on the northern side of the chapel that was propped open on its hinges.

Jack kneeled down in the damp grass and clasped his hands together in front of him. Gillian looked down at him.

“You’re joking, right?” she hissed.

“Comeon, I’ll give you a leg up.”

“I’m not crawling through that.” She crossed her arms.

Jack raised one eyebrow and Gillian huffed.

“Fine.” She pulled off her rucksack and stepped gingerly onto his clasped hands. She wedged her fingers on a narrow ledge of stone in the wall and hoisted herself up.

“Good girl,” Jack whispered.

Heat rushed through Gillian’s whole body at his words. She focused on finding a hand hold as Jack helped push her up and closer to the window.

Gillian squeezed her upper body through the window and rested on the edge as she examined the room. It appeared to be some type of tomb that opened up into the larger chapel area. Coffins with stone effigies lined the room and Gillian was careful not to step on the one below the window as she lowered herself down.

Creeping around to the front of the building, Gillian kept her eyes and ears open to any sign that her entrance had alerted anyone, but the only sound was the steady beating of her heart.

She carefully unlocked the door and opened it to find Jack waiting on the other side with a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Gill, that was awesome! You’re like catwoman,” he said, still smiling.

She rolled her eyes and turned back into the chapel, a smile playing on her lips. The boy was ridiculous.

Moonlight streamed through the windows, leaving squares of white light on the ground, the corners of the chapel still shrouded in darkness.

As they walked through the room, carefully examining the stone walls, the silence was broken by a sudden soft sliding sound, like a boot dragging across marble. Gillian held out her arm to stop Jack, holding her finger to her lips when he shot her a questioning glance.

The sound came again, closer now. Jack suddenly pushed her against the wall, into the shadows. His body was flush with hers as they held their breath and listened. Jack’s head was turned away from her, toward where the sound had come and Gillian stared at the pulse in his throat.

Gillian’s own heart thumped loudly in her chest and she counted the beats as they waited to be caught for trespassing.

One, two, three, four, five–

No other sounds came from the room, and Gillian was suddenly aware of Jack’s hands on her shoulders, his thumbs on her collarbones. She let out a soft breath.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten–

The room remained silent and Jack turned her head toward her. They were pressed so closely, his lips brushed her forehead as he turned. He pulled back a hand’s width.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen–

Jack was looking into her eyes now.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen–

His right hand slid up her shoulder, his warm fingers running under her hair to grasp the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her ear lobe. Her breath caught in her throat.

Eighteen, nineteen–

Jack’s other hand rose and he touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently lifting her face toward his.

Twenty–

He leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers. His left hand dropped from her chin and trailed down her arm.

Twenty one–

His face was so close to hers now. She could feel his warm breath on her lips. Her lips parted as she let out her own small gasp.

Twenty two–

She felt her hand rise and it landed lightly on his rib cage. His heart beat once, twice. She tilted her head a fraction, her lips brushed his—

A rasping, angry voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Get your filthy hands off my grandson.”

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Chapter 1

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Chapter 10

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Chapter 12