Chapter 5: Muffin Emergency

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

Start from the beginning: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Where we left off: We discover Gillian is a vampire, and her father is Count Vlad von Karnstein, AKA the evil Vampire King. The cave drawings Jack found are actually old runes used to curse the Count. Philomena convinces Gillian that Jack isn’t an ordinary human and is sure to be up to no good. They rush out of the kitchen to confront him.

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Gillian

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The hallway was empty. All of Jack’s research was cleared off the table, and Jack himself was nowhere to be seen.

Something ached beneath Gillian’s ribcage as her last shred of hope vanished. Jack’s arrival at the cafe definitely wasn’t innocent.

Gillian rushed out the door that led to the front of the cafe, hoping to find Jack. He wasn’t there.

Instead, there was only one patron– an ancient elf. He sat nibbling on a croissant at a table by the window. She was certain he could hear the pounding of her heart as her mind raced.

She ran through her conversation with Jack, trying to understand what he could have possibly wanted from her. It was obvious he was some kind of researcher– no one could fake that kind of enthusiasm. And it’s not like she helped him with anything. Jack had done most of the talking. In fact, Gillian hadn’t even introduced herself. Of course, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who she was, as the only vampire working at the Beanstalk Cafe.

“Hi there, Gillian,” Alban the Wise called out. “Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to the pastry cabinet?”

“No, of course not, Al. We’ll add it to your tab.” Gillian waved a dismissive hand, her heart was still racing but she didn’t know what to do next. “Any chance you saw someone leave in the last few minutes?” Maybe Philomena could catch up to Jack.

Alban gave a grunt of confusion. “No one has been out here for the last thirty minutes or so, Gillian. Did you misplace your little kitchen gnome?”

A throat cleared behind Gillian.

“Ah, sorry about that, Philly,” Alban said contritely. “Didn’t see you there.”

“That’s Madam Philomena to you, Alban,” Philomena said in a mock haughty voice. Alban grinned. He had been coming to the cafe for centuries and loved to get under the gnome’s skin.

“Al, did you need anything else? Sorry for neglecting you, we have a… muffin emergency in the back.” Gillian plastered on a smile. She didn’t want to lie to her old friend, but there was no way she’d admit to entertaining an evil, conniving human in the back of the cafe.

“All good here. Go take care of your run-away muffin,” he replied with a wink.

Gillian and Philomena returned to the hallway. “I actually do have biscuits I need to rescue from the oven,” Philomena said on her way to the kitchen. “But this conversation isn’t over. We need to find out what that boy was doing.”

Gillian stood there, staring at the empty table where she’d left Jack, her arms wrapped around her waist as if she could hold herself together.

Her mind whirled. He couldn’t have been sent there by her father. If the Count wanted something from Gillian, he certainly knew where to find her. It had to be someone else– some thing else.

It wasn’t just humans that were in danger if the runes were found and activated. There was a lesser known possibility that only those in the inner circle of the vampire courts realized. The tracking runes were linked to her father. They could be used to find him, of course. But if used properly by a powerful sorcerer, they could also trace every living vampire with any tie to the Count’s bloodline– and be used to kill them all. Gillian included.

She wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

Suddenly, a small sound came from down the dark hallway, and Gillian crept toward it. Rat blood wasn’t very nutritious, but even with Jack gone, the human smell lingered in the hallway and her mouth watered.

“Is the coast clear?” came a whisper.

Gillian let out a squeak and jumped back as Jack peered out between two towers of boxes halfway down the hall. He was clutching his leather bag and a pile of books to his chest, his glasses askew and slipping down the bridge of his nose.

A rush of emotions hit Gillian– relief, anger, confusion. She didn’t know what to think.

“You.” It was an accusation.

Her hands clenched as Jack eased out from behind the boxes, his steps careful as he narrowly avoided knocking them over.

“Did you get in trouble?” His voice was low, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be asking. “I heard angry voices from the kitchen so I thought I better hide.”

“Why do you need to hide?” Gillian crossed her arms.

Jack continued toward her. “I thought you might get in trouble for having me sit back here. I didn’t want you to get in hot water with your boss.”

“Tell me why you’re really here,” she demanded, her tone sharp.

Jack stiffened at her words. His steps faltered and he stopped short, his grip tightening on the satchel in his arms.

“You made me come back here, remember?” Jack said, a line forming between his eyebrows.

His dumb act wasn’t working on her. “Yes, Jack. If that’s even your real name.” She let out an exasperated breath. “Why are you in the cafe at all? Who are you and what do you want from me?” she said, her voice rising.

“Oh, we’re back to this now?” Jack’s brows furrowed. “This place isn’t for people like me, that’s what you said, isn’t it? Fine. You don’t need to worry about getting caught with, what? A poor student? A disgraced scientist? Whatever it is, it’s not your problem anymore.” He pushed past her toward the door to the cafe, leaving a handful of crumpled pound notes on the table.

Gillian stood there for a moment, bewildered.

Was he seriously turning this around on her? She’s the one who had a reason to be mad, not him.

Turning heel, she rushed after him.

Jack was halfway across the dining space when she pushed through the swinging door. “Don’t you walk away from me, Jack,” she shouted, her nails piercing into her palms.

Jacked turned toward her. He looked exhausted. Must be tiring keeping up a fake persona, Gillian thought.

“What is it now?” he asked with a huff. “I thought you didn’t want me disturbing all your important customers,” he said, his hand sweeping across the mostly empty cafe. He paused when he saw Alban, his eyes widening.

Gillian noticed the double-take. Alban had long silver hair and a matching beard that flowed to his waist, where his dark green jacquard silk robes were cinched with a cord. Along with his large pointed ears, he looked like a typical forest elf.

Anyone visiting a magical cafe would not find the sight surprising– so, why was Jack staring? Wasn’t he sent here to find Gillian and use her to get to her dad?

Jack’s comments from a moment ago finally caught up to her. “Wait, what do you mean, you’re a disgraced scientist?”

What an odd cover story.

“Nothing,” Jack said with another sigh. “Nice to meet you… you impossible woman,” he finished. With that, Jack walked out the door into the bright London afternoon.

***

The one thing most of the storybooks got at least partially right about vampires was the issue with sunlight. No sparkles here, unfortunately. If Gillian stepped out of the cafe into the rare London sunshine, she would burn. Not a good look for a London high street.

“Your muffin emergency, eh?” Alban startled her.

“Yeah, Al. That was my muffin,” she replied apologetically “Sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s… complicated.” She struggled to encompass the situation in a single word.

“Lovers’ quarrels usually are.” Alban smirked.

“What? No. It’s not– That’s not–”

“Ah, to be young again,” he sighed, eyes glinting with something both nostalgic and mischievous.

“I’m seven hundred years old, Al.” Gillian rolled her eyes at the older elf.

Alban shrugged. “Age is just a number, baby.”

Rolling her eyes again, Gillian stalked off to the cafe's counter. This is where she should have been all day, not tangled up in the mess Jack had pulled her into.

Jack. Her fingers drummed the countertop as her mind raced. She had to stop him from finishing his research and activating the runes. But to do that, she first had to find him. By closing time, any scent trail Jack left would be lost, blurred with the hundreds of other humans walking past the cafe.

Gillian rested her forearms on the counter and stared up at the door. Jack had pushed through it that morning with all his books and papers piled in his arms, as if he’d rushed from a library and straight to the cafe. How did he get anything done when he was so disorganized? The thought tugged an unexpected smile to her lips, before she caught herself.

An idea hit her.

What had Jack said when he came in? He needed a place to read his books?

“Al,” she called to the elf. “Are there any old libraries or bookstores around here with historical texts?”

Alban the Wise raised an eyebrow. “You mean the British Library?”

Of course. It was obvious now. That had to be where Jack came from that morning.

Gillian checked the time. If she left as soon as the sun went down, she might get there before the library closed. With luck on her side, she’d find Jack.

***

The walk to the library was only a few blocks from the cafe and she breathed in deeply, relishing the fresh cool air after a day spent in the small hallway with Jack.

After centuries abstaining from human blood, she didn’t crave it like she used to. But she also rarely spent time in close proximity to humans. She was used to walking through the streets of London, where they just rushed past her, like they did in the crowd outside King’s Cross Station that night.

She slipped between the commuters with a practiced ease and continued on her way. Soon, modern iron entry gates announced her arrival at the British Library.

Inside the main entrance hall, scholars and tourists mingled beneath the towering ceiling, their voices blending into a low hum. A pair of children clambered onto a metal bench sculpted into the shape of an open book, their laughter sharp and bright in the echoing, open space.

Gillian ignored them and headed straight for the information desk tucked between two grand staircases. She hadn’t been to the library since it moved to its new location a few decades before, so she had no idea where to start.

She approached the woman behind the counter– short black hair and a nose ring, an air of boredom– and asked her where to find books on Roman alphabets, which seemed a good place to find Jack.

The library worker explained that books couldn’t be checked out like at a normal library. Instead, she could reserve a reading room.

“Unfortunately, all of our reading rooms are reserved. But I can add you to the system to find an open slot tomorrow,” she offered.

Gillian leaned in, dropping her voice. “I’m sure I had a reservation for tonight, would you mind checking?”

The library worker’s brow creased, but she humored her, tapping at the keyboard. After a moment, she turned her computer screen to Gillian. “Nothing under that name.”

Gillian quickly scanned the list and found:

Start Time 9:30 A.M.

End Time 10:30 A.M.

Room 302B

Name Jack Kyteler

He hadn’t told her his full name, but she knew it was him. Her scalped tingled and something nagged at the back of her mind, urging her to take a closer look, but she pushed it away. There were no other reservations under that name– this was a dead end.

“Must’ve been a mistake,” she said smoothly, stepping back. “Thanks for your time.”

Gillian went outside to plan her next move. She didn’t have much experience with modern technology, but she might be able to find an internet cafe to search for Jack on what they called the World Wide Web.

As Gillian walked out across the courtyard, two police officers passed, going the opposite direction.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been called to a library for stolen books,” one said.

“Yeah, I’ve only ever come here to escort out nutters.” The other officer laughed.

Gillian paused. Something about the officers’ conversation intrigued her, and she turned around and followed them back inside, keeping a healthy distance as the officers met a nervous-looking man in a too-big suit. He gestured for them to follow, leading them up the stairs to the left of the information desk.

Gillian trailed them, marveling as she walked past the six story high tower rising through the center of the library, which encompassed thousands of books behind glass and bronze. The small group turned right, down a hallway where a sign pointed toward the reader registration room.

Gillian slipped into the registration office as another door in the back closed behind the police officer. The room was divided by a long desk with a glass partition. Gillian stepped in line behind the other library patrons who waited their turn at the window. Through the glass, she could see the officers and the man in the ill-fitted suit enter a secondary room with a large window. A placard by the door read Mr. Charles Wood, Reader Pass Program Director.

Gillian stepped out of line to get a better look. Through the window of the inner office, Gillian could see a man seated against the back wall with concern etched on his face, the dark circles under his eyes highlighted under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Gillian let out a quiet breath and whispered to herself.

“Jack.”

Next chapter: Chapter 6