Chapter 17: Lies

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

Gillian

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Gillian laughed. The way Philomena had been acting, she was expecting some dramatic reveal about Jack’s protection spell. What did Alice’s friend have to do with anything?

But Philomena didn’t return her smile.

“Gillian. Honey. You are that child. Your real name is Gealán.”

Gillian laughed again, but it was quieter. Less convincing.

“No, it’s not,” she scoffed. “I’ve always been Gillian.”

Alban spoke up, his eyes crinkled with concern.“You haven’t always been a Von Karnstein, though. Do you remember your human last name?”

That gave Gillian pause. She hadn’t thought about her human childhood in a very long time. Images flashed through her mind. Rolling green hills, a woman’s lilting laughter, a baby with copper hair and freckles, a group of pale men with black eyes surrounding her. Gillian shivered.

Turned vampires never remembered their human life. For some reason, Gillian had— but the memory was spotty at best. She remembered her human feelings more than anything else.

“I— I don’t remember,” she finally said. Raising her gaze to Alban’s somber face. “But I don’t understand. Even if I am this girl, what does that have to do with Jack? He wasn’t even alive back then.”

“When I created the protection spell, it was for three humans. My guess is that part of the spell backfired when you were turned. Some of the protection worked on you— that must be why you still have your humanity. And, of course, I designed the charm so that all those under it could recognize each other. That’s why you saw through Jack’s spell and could tell he was human when I couldn’t.”

Despite how uncertain Gillian felt about her past, it was a relief to hear logical explanations for everything that had been happening to her. A part of her had been ignoring these warning signs while she convinced herself that working with Jack was the right thing to do. If what Philomena was saying was true, she didn’t have to feel guilty about that anymore.

“So, because I had the spell, too, I can break it?” Gillian asked.

“Yes and no. It would take someone under the spell to recognize it. But I think your siphoning happened because the spell was transformed when you were turned. It was never designed for a vampire and I think it changed to manifest who a vampire is at their core.” Philomena winced and amended with, “a normal vampire.”

“Oh.” That was all she could think to say. It had been her fault Jack was left unprotected.

Jack broke the awkward silence asking,“what about the wards?” She had to give him credit for following along. He probably didn’t understand half of what was going on.

“Ah, yes. The wards,” Philomena said with a sigh. “Jack, you created quite the fuss when you waltzed in here last week. What you experienced outside just now is what was supposed to happen all along. This is only a theory, but I think my magic in the wards recognized my magic in your blood, and let you in. When the protection spell broke on the train, it took all of my magic with it.”

“But,” Jack said, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. “I thought you said the cafe is for magical folk. Aren’t I magical now?”

“You’re a quick learner, son,” Alban chimed in. “Humans with magic just need to do a quick spell to enter the Beanstalk. You haven’t learned to harness your magic yet but I can teach you. Plenty of time for that.”

“Actually,” Gillian interrupted. “We need Jack to learn rather quickly. I think he’s the only one who can activate the runes and take down the Vampire King.”

She hated calling him by that moniker, but she wasn’t sure Jack would be ready to learn his greatest enemy was her dad.

A quick glance at the blood draining from Jack’s face confirmed that. “Sorry, what is a Vampire King?”

Philomena gave Jack an abbreviated version of the history between Alice and the vampires, and Gillian could see his jaw clenching, the color never returning to his face. She couldn’t blame him. Her father was awful.

“That’s terrible, but what can I do about it? You just said I don’t even know enough magic to get into a cafe. What can I do to someone that powerful?”

“The runes are the only way to stop him,” Gillian said. “And I think I figured out how they work.”

She quickly explained to Philomena and Alban about what she’d learned about the three points of the runes: one for tracking, one for killing, and one for mortality.

Pulling out the pages from Jack’s satchel, Gillian showed them what she suspected.

“I think that if you were to activate just the north runes, you’d be able to track down the Vampire King’s bloodline.”

She could feel Philomena’s eyes on her, obviously aware that Gillian herself was part of the population. But she continued on without acknowledging it.

“Activating just the east runes will kill the vampires. Do you see how the triangles can layer together, though? If you put them together, I think you can both track and kill at the same time.”

“That’s brilliant,” Philomena murmured. “Alice was always ten steps ahead.”

“Exactly. And the third set of runes is for mortality. You can do the same thing, and use it to turn just one vampire mortal. Or combine it with the tracker to turn them all.”

“Very interesting. And I suppose that last line we learned from the runes is how to break the original curse,” Alban mused. “Three points together the incantation does break,” he recited.

“Yeah, that’s what I think, too. Pulling the three runes together will break the spell and the Vampire King can return to full power. No wonder Alice spent her life protecting the last piece. And now she’s lost…” Gillian trailed off and looked up at Philomena.

“We cannot let that happen,” Philomena said, her small fists clenched in her lap. “With Alice in the vampire lair, we are losing time every second.”

“You’ve always said we needed a powerful sorcerer to reactivate the runes,” Gillian said. “But I think what we needed all along was a Kyteler.”

***

Curled up in one of the arm chairs in a dark corner of the cafe, Gillian sipped on her chamomile tea and watched across the room where Philomena and Alban taught Jack about his magic. She didn’t know the first thing about harnessing magic, so she just stared after them, ruminating over everything she’d learned.

Occasionally, Jack glanced over to her and she attempted to give him a reassuring smile, but his returned expressions were unreadable. He seemed to be taking in all this new information about himself and the world fairly well. But there was a haunted shadow in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. And it seemed to only appear when he looked at her.

Gillian herself was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that she wasn’t Gillian at all, but Gealán. The names didn’t even sound similar, she thought, as she turned the syllables over in her head. Gal-ohn, jih-lee-uhn, gal-ohn, jih-lee-uhn. She repeated them until the sounds blended together into incoherent consonants and vowels banging around in her skull.

She had complicated feelings about her father, but it had never occurred to her that he would lie about her name of all things. She thought hard, back to her first days as a vampire. She remembered standing in her village, surrounded by smoldering cottages and lingering screams. She had been confused and scared, but then the Count had smiled and kneeled down to ask her if she was hungry. She had been hungry, and he’d given her a cup of the most delicious thing she’d ever had and scooped her up in his arms. She’d felt safe and content as he brushed the hair off her face and told her, “Hush, Gillian. You’re with your papa now.”

She didn’t agree with most of what he did, but she’d never been able to reconcile her vision of the kind man who’d rescued her with that of the Vampire King. He had rescued her. Hadn’t he?

Shaking her head, she decided her exhaustion was getting the better of her and it was past time she got some sleep. Unfolding herself from the cushioned chair, she gathered the empty tea cups and crossed the room to bid the trio goodnight.

“I’m heading up to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”

“I’ll help you with those,” Jack said as he stepped forward to take two of the cups from her hands.

His warm fingers brushed hers in the process and she noticed the lack of tingle for the first time. It made her heart ache a little at the thought that all her touches had put Jack in danger. Bad things always happened to the people who got close to her and she would never forgive herself for this.

Gillian could feel her cheeks warm and she gave Jack a small nod before turning toward the kitchen.

“So,” Jack started tentatively. “Should I call you Gealán now?”

Gillian let out a soft laugh.

“Please don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea that I’m not who I thought I was.”

“I get the feeling,” Jack muttered, as he held the kitchen door open for her.

Gillian studied his face as she passed. There were dark circles under his eyes and a weariness in his expression that went deeper than a lack of sleep. She reminded herself that he didn’t have any family– anyone to share this new information with to confirm the story, or just commiserate. He would never be able to tell his father about their true lineage. This wasn’t something easy to go through alone and Gillian felt a wave of sadness for him.

She set the teacups in the wide, shallow sink and Jack followed suit, reaching to turn on the tap.

“Wait, is this a magic sink? Do I snap my fingers and they’re clean?” he asked with a humorless laugh.

Gillian turned the tap back off and turned to face Jack, leaning against the edge of the sink and crossing her arms.

“Honestly? Yes. Philomena can do that. I don’t have any magic but I can move very, very fast,” she said, gauging his expression. When his lips didn’t so much as twitch, she tried again. “I’ve thought about getting a job as a housekeeper. Imagine having Superman mop your floors.”

She moved her shoulders back and forth, miming mopping at super speed. It was an odd thing to accomplish when it was actually slower than she could move herself. She was certain she looked ridiculous and the smile that cracked over Jack’s sullen face confirmed that. It was the first time she’d seen that silly dimple in what felt like ages.

“There he is,” she said, smiling wider.

“So, if I’m doing my calculations correctly,” Jack said, the ghost of a grin still on his lips. “You’re what? Like, seven hundred years old?”

Her smile faltered. “Yeah, something like that.” She cleared her throat. “Is that weird?”

He shrugged. “All of this is weird. At least you don’t look like Alice.” He chuckled. “Wait. You don’t look like Alice, right? This isn’t some… magic mask?” His eyes searched her face and he gave a small shudder.

Gillian laughed. A real, loud, sparkling laugh that shook her shoulders and momentarily wiped away her fatigue.

“No,” she said, finally. “This is the real me. There isn’t an exact conversion but the running theory is that every one hundred years is the equivalent to about five human years of growth.”

Jack gave her a wry look. “So, in dog years, I’d be seven hundred, too?”

Gillian laughed again. She hadn’t laughed like this since before Bath.

“Something like that,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Should we get you to bed, Gill?” Jack asked, his amusement replaced with concern.

Gillian’s heart stuttered at his words and all she could do was nod in agreement. Following him back out to the dining room, they found Alban and Philomena still chatting.

“We’re heading to bed,” Gillian informed them. “Should we continue Jack’s lessons in the morning?”

Philomena opened her mouth to answer, but before she could get a word out, the front door of the cafe crashed open with a bang– the shattered lock sliding across the floor and landing at Gillian’s feet.

She traced its path with her eyes and found herself staring at a man with billowing, deep red robes and slicked back, icy blond hair. A feral grin stretched across his pale face, canines glinting.

“Hello, dear.”

Gillian gasped. Dad.

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