Chapter 19: Haunted Cannoli

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

Start from the beginning: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 18

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Jack

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Jack reached for his glasses, but they weren’t in their usual spot. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. He wasn’t in his usual spot, either. Not in his flat in Oxford, and not even on Gillian’s couch.

The room was an explosion of color. A well-worn patchwork quilt of all different shades of greens and blues draped over him and the soft, warm bed beneath. Small bits of dark blue wall peeked through behind a myriad of mismatched paintings, decorative plates, and other artifacts from all over the world. Jack almost felt dizzy by all the different pieces he wanted to examine more closely.

But then, he remembered suddenly that he’d spent the night in Philomena’s flat, and the events from the day before came rushing back to him.

So much had happened– he’d found out he was a warlock, met a sassy gnome, and was practically attacked by an evil vampire. But what stood out most was the look on Gillian’s face when he’d said goodnight.

Hurt and betrayal and heartache– she’d barely attempted to conceal her expressions. And he hadn’t even said what he was thinking. Jack barely even knew what he was thinking himself. But she must have sensed his feelings.

He sat up straighter. Wait. Can she read my thoughts? Jack vaguely remembered that the vampire from that popular teen movie could read minds. And it would explain a lot. But no, he decided. They’d had too many misunderstandings for that to be the case.

Looking around the room again, he spotted his spectacles on the bedside table. He put them on and took a deep breath. Jack apparently had the power to get rid of that monster, the Vampire King. He certainly didn’t have time to think about his feelings.

***

By the time he made it downstairs, the cafe was already open for business and Alban greeted him in the back hallway. They’d settled in to his old desk while Philomena and Gillian helped customers in the front.

“I still don’t see why we can’t go out there,” Jack complained again. “Now that I know the real reason I wasn’t allowed in the front of the cafe, it shouldn’t matter.”

Alban chuckled. “In due time, son. We can’t risk the Count sending one of his spies to see what we’re up to.”

He made a good point, of course. But Jack was eager to see the different types of creatures that existed in the world. He was itching to learn as much as he could. The only relief was that Gillian was kept busy and he could put off their inevitable conversation. He knew it was cowardly, but he still hadn’t had time to process his feelings about what had happened.

He and Alban had been working all morning to find a way for Jack to harness his magic. It was a bit like yoga, which an old girlfriend had dragged Jack to a few times. Control your breath, enhance your focus, feel the energy in your veins. Yeah, that last part was where Jack was struggling. He’d almost felt it once, but then Gillian came pushing through the hallway door carrying an empty pastry tray and broke his concentration.

He glanced up at her and quickly closed his eyes again, pretending to be focused on his breathwork while he waited for her to disappear behind the kitchen door.

Alban laughed softly beside him. “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

Jack opened one eyelid and peered at Alban. “About what?”

“She hasn’t had many friends in her life, you know,” he said, ignoring the question. “I can see you mean a great deal to her.”

Jack found that hard to believe. She was funny and smart and thoughtful and kind. It seemed unlikely she’d be at a loss of close friendships. But then he reminded himself of what Philomena had said to the vampire the night before.

Lowering his voice, Jack leaned closer to the old elf. “Is it true she’s here on a prison sentence?”

“Best you ask her yourself,” Alban replied as Gillian made her way back into the hallway, tray now laden with an assortment of delicious smelling pastries.

“Would you like a snack?” she asked with a bright smile. Too bright— it looked forced. “Phi made her famous Earl Gray flavored macarons.”

She started to reach for one of the speckled treats but Jack simply waved her away. “No, thanks,” he said, quickly averting his eyes “We need to get back to work.”

He heard Gillian sigh, but she left without another word.

Alban shook his head but returned to his instruction.

***

A few hours of practice and several cups of tea later, Jack had managed a simple light spell. The feeling of holding the small ball of heatless light in the palm of his hand was incredible, but he was only able to sustain it for a few seconds.

After half an hour of trying to ignore his rumbling stomach, Alban finally convinced Jack to take a break for lunch and they made their way to the front of the cafe.

Excited to see what kind of creatures were on the other side of the swinging door, Jack pushed through it cautiously, peering into the dining room while his heart thudded in his chest.

“No one’s going to eat you,” Alban said suddenly from behind Jack, causing him to jolt.

Before he could reply, Gillian appeared on the other side of the door, a wry smile on her face. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Al.”

Jack blanched and backed away, as Gillian pushed past him toward the kitchen, rolling her eyes.

“Come on, son,” Alban laughed, while ushering Jack into the cafe. “Let’s see what Philly has cooked up today.”

Jack was severely disappointed to find the dining room empty of patrons. The lunch rush was apparently over and the cafe was quiet. He followed Alban to the counter, where Philomena was busy organizing pastries in the glass cabinet.

“Ah, hello Jack,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a kind smile. “Did I sense a bit of spellwork going on back there?”

Jack returned the smile with a genuine one of his own. He couldn’t believe how normal it felt to be conversing with a tiny gnome, but he was right at home with her.

“A bit of spellwork, yeah,” he said. Closing his eyes, he held out the palm of his hand and took a deep breath. He focused on the energy in his body and pushed it with his mind toward his hand while whispering the spell Alban had taught him.

“Stella fulget,” he chanted and cracked an eye open to see if it worked. A very small glowing ball sat in his hand for a fraction of a second before he lost his grasp on the energy and it winked out.

Philomena smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time. Instead, a flash of worry crossed her face before she schooled her features.

“That’s good work, Jack,” she said, before her eyes darted over to Alban.

Jack sighed. He knew they were relying on him to take down the vampires, but he needed more time to learn. Time Alice didn’t have.

“He’s getting there,” Alban said proudly, interrupting Jack’s spiraling thoughts. “But more importantly, what’s for lunch, Phils?”

Philomena rolled her eyes but snapped her fingers. Jack’s brows rose as a bowl of farro and arugula topped with grilled mushrooms and crispy falafel appeared before them, the aroma of garlicky hummus and pickled red onions delighting his senses.

Alban pulled up two chairs to the counter and the pair sat down to eat while Philomena continued her work on the pastry display.

Jack was happy for the opportunity to talk with the gnome. There had been something on his mind since the night before.

“So,” he said tentatively between bites of tender falafel. “You knew Alice– my, uh, great grandmother?”

Philomena’s smile returned. “She was one of my dearest friends, once upon a time. You’ll like her, I think.”

“Right. So, she said something to me right before the, uh, vampire took her,” Jack said awkwardly. He still felt a little insane talking about mythological beings so factually. But then, he was starting to think of a gnome and an elf as good friends. So, perhaps he was a bit crazy, afterall.

“Ah, yes,” Philomena said, guessing Jack’s thoughts. “Gillian told me Alice wanted you to know your legacy. Is that what you wanted to ask about?”

Jack nodded, grateful he didn’t have to voice his question.

Philomena nodded back and continued, “it’s true. You come from a long line of vampire hunters. Alice was one of the best.”

“But, why didn’t she just kill the Vampire King? Why this complicated curse that left him alive?”

Philomena raised her eyebrows. “You know, Gillian asked me that same thing not too long ago. She was just as annoyed that Alice hadn’t finished the job.”

Jack’s eyes widened, as his mind swirled around the possibilities. “But,” he said slowly. “That would mean Gillian would be dead, too.”

“It does,” Philomena said simply.

She was watching Jack’s face carefully, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Vampires were bad. Everyone knew that. Not a single well-respected folktale held the undead in a positive light.

When Jack didn’t reply, the gnome sighed and went back to work on her pastries. Just when Jack thought the conversation was over, she spoke again.

“Alice held the belief that all living creatures– vampires included– were not inherently good or bad. That everyone should have the opportunity to choose between doing what is right and what is easy.” She paused and turned to Jack. “That’s why she created the curse instead of killing the vampires outright. And that is, sadly, something that Gillian does not agree with. She’s seen too much in her long life to believe that vampires can be anything but what they are.”

Jack met Philomena’s gaze for a moment and then looked away, his thoughts churning. If a vampire agreed that all vampires should be killed, wasn’t that proof enough? Alice said his destiny was to ruin the vampires, but she had the opportunity and didn’t do it. She’d spent hundreds of years in hiding, protecting the curse instead of just using it to kill the vampire who stole her life from her. What did it mean?

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Alban reaching into the pastry display case.

“You don’t mind, do you, Philly?” the elf said as he pulled a croissant out for himself.

Philomena glared at Alban but then turned to Jack with a smile. “You’re more than welcome to help yourself. Just don’t let this old man take more than one.”

Jack grinned. He did love Philomena’s pastries. He started to reach for the nearest dessert, a sugar dusted cannoli with a sprinkling of pistachios, when Philomena slapped his hand away.

“Not that one,” she said, eyes wide. “It’s haunted.”

Jack laughed, but neither Philomena nor Alban joined in.

Alban leaned in close and said quietly. “It was cursed the moment Harry touched it. Something ancient and dark, carried with him from the sea. The cannoli made its way here from Sicily with a note held by a possessed moth. You don’t eat the haunted cannoli, it said. You negotiate with it.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 20