Chapter 7: Snap, Crackle, Pop

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

Start from the beginning: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 6

Where we left off: Gillian waits for Jack outside the library and they agree to get dinner. Jack tells him about the rough time he’s been having in his career and then has to rush off to catch his train back to Oxford.

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Gillian

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Jack was gone. Why was Jack always gone?

Gillian had finally figured out a way to ask him to stay in London– she couldn’t let him leave and finish his research into the runes on his own. But he’d disappeared while she had been lost in thought. She leapt out of her seat and ran for the door. Pushing out of the pub and into the chill night, she glanced left, then right. He must have been on his way to the train station already.

She took off running down the block and past the entrance to the tube. Jack hadn’t mentioned where his train departed and she hoped she was right in assuming it would be King’s Cross, and not the underground. A minute later, she was running through the automated double door entrance and into the cavernous train station.

Gillian skidded to a halt in the middle of the entrance hall, panting. King’s Cross was huge, with over ten platforms for her to search. Gillian wasn’t sure how she would find Jack.

“Gill?”

Gillian looked to her right to find Jack standing near the ticketing machines, staring at her with eyebrows knitted.

“Spend the night with me,” she said, still gasping for breath.

Jack blinked.

“It’s late,” she explained, her breathing returning to normal. “If you need a place to stay, there’s an empty room above the cafe,” she offered. Sure, the room was technically in her flat, but Jack didn’t need to know that.

Jack let out a strangled laugh. “You’re offering me a place to stay? But you just– at the pub, you–”

“You ran out before I could say anything. The Beanstalk Cafe has rooms. Above it, you know,” Gillian rambled. “You could stay there for the night, since it’s so late? It’s the least I could do since it’s my fault you were caught by the library police.” That wasn’t even remotely true, but she could tell from the way Jack had one eyebrow raised that she still needed to convince him.

“Thanks, really. That’s a nice offer, but I need to get back to Oxford. Maybe I’ll catch you at the cafe the next time I’m in town,” he said, turning away and walking through the turnstile that led to his waiting train.

“Jack, wait,” Gillian all but begged. How would she make him stay? She didn’t want to think what would happen if he left and published his research on the runes. She had to do something, but she was out of ideas.

“My name is Gillian, actually,” she said, stalling.

Jack turned around but continued to walk backwards away from Gillian while staring at her with one eyebrow cocked. “What?”

“You called me Gill. But it’s Gillian. Just so you know,” she had to raise her voice over the din of the station as he got farther away.

“Ok, Gillian,” Jack shouted back with a laugh. “You are the most impossible person I have ever met!” He turned back around as a loud whistle sounded and the train on platform eight started to roll away.

Jack stopped and watched the train gather speed as it exited the station, his shoulders slumped. He’d missed his train.

He slowly turned around to look back where Gillian waited on the other side of the turnstiles.

She gave him a small wave with a sheepish smile, but there was a triumphant glint in her eyes. Jack was coming home with her.

“I guess I’m staying in London, after all,” Jack said, with a half smile.

“Sorry,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster, her attempt to hide her smile turning it into a grimace. “The cafe’s only a few blocks away.” She turned around and headed for the exit. She’d gone several feet when she realized Jack wasn’t following.

Turning around, she found he hadn’t moved at all. He was staring at her, slack jawed, with his arms at his sides.

“Why are you being so… nice?” he asked.

Had she not been nice all evening?

Gillian took a step toward him, her mind racing as she desperately searched for something to say that would let her keep an eye on him and his research for at least one more day.

She stood in front of him and looked him in the eye. “Please, I insist.”

Brilliant plan, Gillian. What a convincing argu–

“Ok,” Jack said.

Well. That was easy.

But then she noticed the glazed, vacant look in his eyes.

Oops.

Vampires had a lot of talents. But the one that horrified Gillian the most was the ability to convince other people to do what she wanted. No, convince wasn’t the right word. Brainwash. She could compel this man to jump in front of an oncoming train and he would do so happily. Gillian had never intentionally used these powers herself but most of her kind didn’t have any problem with using it to control the weak for their own gain.

Unfortunately, it also accidentally came out during high-stress situations. Like, when someone was about to unleash the lost “Vampire King” tracking runes.

By the time they arrived back at the Beanstalk Cafe, the compulsion had worn off and Gillian watched Jack carefully. His face was passive and he walked alongside her with loose arms swinging at his sides. He wasn’t confused or scared, so she knew it had only taken a light convincing– he must have already wanted to come with her. Gillian’s stomach tightened at the thought.

She continued to watch Jack as she unlocked the doors and allowed him entry to the cafe. She wondered whether he would be able to cross the wards again, but he stepped through with no resistance.

The inside of the cafe was lit with a dim glow, the single, rustic chandelier overhead casting shadows in the corners. A lingering scent of roasted coffee and sweet cinnamon hung in the air as Gillian led Jack to the staircase at the end of the back hallway.

On the second story, they arrived at her flat and Gillian fumbled with her keys as she unlocked the door. She wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he figured out this wasn’t just an empty room.

Oh gods, was this a mistake? She hadn’t had anyone besides Philomena in her flat for decades.

As she opened the door and crossed the threshold, a floor lamp flicked on, bathing the cozy room in a soft light. A low sofa was pushed against the far wall of the room, a plush Persian style rug lined the floor, and an oversized armchair sat in the corner near a dark fireplace. It was her own little sanctuary from the world.

Gillian looked around and thought about how it would look to an outsider. It was cozy and clean… except for the books. Books covered almost every surface. There were stacks of books on the floor, books peeked out from behind the drapes on the windowsill, books were piled on the small table near the armchair, and there were even books balanced precariously on the back of the sofa.

“Is this yours?” Jack asked, his eyes wide.

Gillian shoved her hands into her pockets and bit her lip as she nodded. Her thoughts jumbled together. Was he comfortable being in her flat? Was she comfortable with him being in her home? What was he thinking? What had she been thinking, letting this man stay here?

She took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts.

“Is that ok? You can take the bedroom, of course. The linens are fresh and the loo is through there,” she said gesturing to the door behind her. “Clean towels are in the cabinet and–”

“I’m not taking your bedroom. The couch will be fine,” he interrupted her. “Really, Gill. This is really generous of you. Thank you,” he finished with a sincere note to his voice. He reached to pull his leather satchel from around his shoulders as looked around the room.

“But I–” she stopped when she saw Jack’s arched eyebrow. “Ok, the sofa it is,” she said and disappeared behind the door next to the toilet to fetch blankets and a pillow. Once in her bedroom, Gillian let out a shaky breath.

This is going to be ok. Everything is fine.

When she returned with bedding, she saw Jack thumbing through one of her books. “Fairy tales, huh?” he said, showing her the cover of English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs.

“I read other things, too,” she defended herself. She set the blankets down and began to clear off the books from the back of the sofa. “See, I read serious books,” she said with a straight face, showing him her copy of Twilight.

“She’s got jokes.” Jack laughed as he came to help her move the piles of books to the floor. When they finished, he spread out the duvet on the sofa to prepare his makeshift bed.

“Well,” Gillian started awkwardly. She’d never had a house guest and wasn’t sure what to do next. “I’ll head to bed now. I’ll be in there if you need anything else,” she said, nodding her head toward her bedroom door, giving Jack a tight smile.

“Have a good night,” Jack said with a yawn. She nodded in reply and turned to walk back to her bedroom. She stopped at the door, and turned back toward him.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“My name is Gillian, not Gill,” she said and stepped into her room, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

***

Gillian woke up as the sun peeked over the Central London skyline. Her large bedroom window faced the sunrise, but the thin drapes prevented any direct sunlight from touching her skin. She laid there for a moment as the previous day’s events came back to her in a stream of images. She had almost convinced herself it was a very realistic dream, when she crept into the sitting area and saw Jack sprawled on her sofa.

At some point in the night, he had removed his glasses and changed into a white cotton shirt. The rest of his body was hidden, tucked under her light blue down blanket with one hand resting on his chest and the other stretched over his head.

He looked peaceful and Gillian studied him for a moment. A pang of guilt turned her stomach, as she thought back to his story about his stunted career the night before. If she succeeded in destroying his research, taking away his last chance to be an archeologist, what would it do to him?

Without any answers, she tiptoed away and got ready for her day as quietly as she could. She pulled on a deep purple knit sweater and tied back her long hair with a matching ribbon before she sneaked out of the flat and closed the door with a quiet click.

Downstairs, Gillian walked into the kitchen to find Philomena pulling a tray of plum filled danishes out of the oven as she prepared for the cafe to open.

“You must have come in late,” the gnome greeted her. “Al didn’t leave until almost midnight and you weren’t back yet. Any news on our mystery man?”

Gillian thought back to how she’d left things with Philomena. Gillian had still been mad and suspicious and had set out to find and confront Jack. But somewhere along the way, her feelings had changed. Jack had been honest about who he was and Gillian was certain he didn’t know anything about the magic runes. He was a good person and deserved her trust. She was sure of this but now had to find a way to convince Philomena.

She set the kettle to boil and launched into the story of her evening, conveniently skipping over the part where Jack was almost arrested, and wrapped up with the anecdote he told her at the pub.

Gillian remembered how much Jack’s face brightened when he talked about his work. As he spoke about his first discovery, she could almost see the little boy who wanted to grow up to be a fedora-wearing, whip-carrying treasure hunter.

“So, where is he now?” Philomena asked.

“Well, he, um…”

“There you are.” A voice rough with sleep sounded behind her.

Gillian spun around to the kitchen door as the loud snap of Philomena’s magic filled the room.

Jack stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “I woke up and you were gone,” it came out almost petulant, like a small child who had been abandoned. “Who were you talking to?” he asked, looking around the empty kitchen.

She followed his line of sight– Philomena had disappeared. Gillian let out a relieved breath. A gnome in the kitchen would have taken some explaining that she wasn’t quite ready for.

“Um, to myself?” She saw Jack raise an eyebrow but the kettle began to whistle before he had a chance to say anything else. Gillian busied herself with preparing two cups of tea and handed him one when it was ready.

He held the cup with both hands and inhaled the bergamot scented steam. “You remember how I take my tea,” he said with a smile.

Warmth rushed to Gillian’s cheeks as she stirred a splash of milk and two sugar cubes into her own cup of English Breakfast.

“Why don’t you go back upstairs and I’ll bring you up some food?” She tried to ignore the way his comment made her heart soar. “The cafe will be opening soon and I’m sure you’ll want to get started on your research.”

“Oh, right. I’ll go gather my things. I’m sure a train will be headed out soon.”

“What? No, you can stay. Didn’t I say I would help you? I just thought you’d prefer the quiet of my flat.” Actually, Gillian needed him to stay out of the dining area of the cafe. She really didn’t want to have to save a human from being eaten by a bridge troll.

“Ok, yeah, that would be great,” he said with a grin before heading out of the kitchen and down the hall.

A loud pop sounded and Gillian turned to find Philomena had reappeared in the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest and a glare aimed straight at the vampire.

“He spent the night with you?” she asked incredulously.

“Not like that!” Gillian protested, her eyes widening. “He slept on the sofa.”

“That almost makes it worse, Gillian. At least if you were some sort of star-crossed lover I would have a logical explanation for why you let a strange man sleep in the cafe! What were you thinking? Did you at least lock your bedroom door? Put up the protection spells I taught you?”

Gillian rolled her eyes at that. “You think I wouldn’t be able to protect myself from a human? And besides, I told you, he isn’t dangerous. He is literally just a normal student researching old languages.”

“I know you believe that,” Philomena argued. “But if he’s a normal human, how do you explain how he got through the wards?”

Gillian didn’t have an answer for that, but she knew it wasn’t something dangerous. “How else was I supposed to keep track of him, Phi? Even if he’s here to murder us all in our sleep, I still need to figure out what he knows about the magic runes and prevent him from learning the truth.”

Philomena couldn’t deny that. “Well, keep him out of the cafe. He might not be fully human, but he probably couldn’t handle seeing an orc ripping into a turkey leg if Alban’s pointed ears startled him.”

***

When Gilian returned to her flat with a tray filled with a variety of breakfast foods and a fresh pot of Earl Grey, the blankets and pillow were neatly stacked on the sofa and Jack was in the toilet. She set the tray on the side table and tucked herself into her armchair to wait for him to finish.

Gillian was nibbling a pillowy slice of brioche when the door opened and Jack stepped into the sitting area, a wall of steam rushing out behind him. Gillian looked up to see Jack clutching a towel around his waist, before her eyes traveled up to his bare torso, and then finally to his face, where she met Jack’s stare.

Gillian’s eyes widened and she immediately dropped her gaze to her lap, where she found her pastry had also fallen. She picked up her food before belatedly realizing that her mouth was still hanging open, too. She clamped it shut and glanced up at Jack again, her cheeks heating.

He quickly looked away when her eyes met his again and he reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, a flush slowly blooming on his face. “Um, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower?” he said, still not looking at her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she blurted. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go to my bedroom so you can get changed,” she continued at the same time Jack started speaking.

“I’m just grabbing my clothes,” he said, his words tumbling over hers. They both laughed nervously and Gillian nodded, burying her face in her hands while Jack took his leather satchel and disappeared behind the closed door of the toilet.

Gillian still had her face in her hands, muttering incoherently to herself when Jack returned. The crisp scent of green apples wafted over to her, from her own shampoo that he had apparently used.

“The coast is clear, you can look now,” Jack said with a laugh.

Gillian looked up to find him sitting on the sofa. He was dressed in fresh pants and his hair was still wet, dripping on the collar of his cream colored wool henley sweater. She brought over the breakfast tray and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes eating and sipping their tea.

“The cafe will be opening soon but maybe you can show me the work you’re doing. I can take some of it downstairs with me to work on during my breaks,” Gillian offered.

“Sure,” he said and began clearing up their breakfast. Gillian set the tray back on the side table while Jack pulled his research paperwork out of his bag. He handed her a handwritten list of characters with something in Latin written next to each.

“This is the translation key I made from the books yesterday,” Jack explained. “Each symbol represents a letter or word. I’ve also isolated this list of about two hundred symbols.” He handed her another sheet of paper with more characters. “This is from the intertwining images on the cave drawing. If you can help with translating, then we can work together to come up with the meaning.”

Gillian kept her features schooled, but her heart was racing. This was her chance to sidetrack his research and keep him from figuring out the true meaning of the magic runes. She took the papers and the dirty dishes and practically skipped down the stairs.

Philomena looked up as Gillian burst into the kitchen with a huge grin on her face. “What’s got you so excited?”

“Check this out,” Gillian said, showing Philomena the papers from Jack.

“I’m actually impressed. It’s no easy task to find meanings for the ancient symbols, and most of these are actually correct.” Philomena of course recognized the symbols, having known the witch who created the tracking runes. “He’s pretty far along on this project, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Gillian started. “I was thinking of translating really slowly and setting him back a few days. But then what?”

“Is this the only copy? We could ‘accidentally’ drop it in the fire.” Philomena gestured to the crackling flames.

Gillian was horrified at the thought. Jack would never forgive her if she destroyed his work like that. Not that it mattered, of course. Bigger things were at stake here and she would never see him again once she was certain he wouldn’t publish his work. Gillian’s heart sank at that thought, but she pushed the feeling away.

She noticed Philomena was staring, unblinking. “I wonder…” she said slowly.

“Phi?”

“I was thinking, if you really could figure out the full meaning of the runes, we might be able to find a powerful enough witch or warlock to reverse engineer it and cast a protection spell so no one could reactivate them.”

“Would that work?”

“I think so. The hard part will be finding someone to do it, but I can ask around. Do you think you can translate the runes?”

“I don’t know.” Gillian looked down at the paper clutched in her hand, the overwhelming list of symbols taunting her. “I’ll definitely need Jack’s help to interpret all of this. It could take weeks to go through it alone.”

“If you think that’s best. Just be careful he doesn’t learn the truth– I still don’t trust the boy.” Philomena shrugged. “But for now, we have hungry customers to feed,” and with that, she disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

Next Chapter: Chapter 8