Gillian

  Gillian found Jack exactly as she had left him, hunched over the table and fully immersed in his work.

  The lunch rush had died down and she finally had a moment to check in on him, although the salty smell of his human blood was so strong in the little hallway, she was surprised none of the customers had mentioned it.

  Gillian watched him as he scribbled furiously while reading one of the old books open on the desk. She could see his lips moving slightly as he wrote, but no sounds reached her ears.

  She cleared her throat. “Care for more tea?”

  Jack gnced up, the side of his mouth curving into a smile, his single dimple making an appearance. “Sure, that would be grand.”

  She entered the kitchen, where she found Philomena resting on a little stool by the fire, sipping on a steaming bowl of soup.

  “What can I do for you, Gillian?” she asked, her rge ears wiggling under her red cap.

  “Just grabbing a cup of tea, no need to get up.”

  The sight of the cook eating reminded her that the human would probably need food. While the kettle boiled, she deled a few spoonfuls of the soup du jour into a rustic handmade bowl.

  Philomena raised her eyebrows. “If you had another order, you could have sent it back,” she said.

  She made a good point, since Gillian didn’t eat the kind of food that was prepared in this kitchen.

  “Oh, there’s just one customer left out there so I thought I’d let you rest,” Gillian said, skirting the truth. She grabbed the tea and soup and rushed out the door before Philomena could poke any holes in her expnation.

  Jack’s eyes lit up at the sight of the meal. “Thank you,” he said. “Butternut squash soup is one of my favorites.”

  He was silent for a few minutes while he ate and Gillian was fascinated by Jack’s attention to his food, as he breathed in the warm steam of the soup and sighed contentedly.

  The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, right? She had heard that somewhere, although it didn’t make much sense since the heart was easily accessible behind the rib cage.

  “How’s the research coming?” Gillian asked. “Make any life changing discoveries without me?” It sounded more like teasing than she’d intended.

  Jack ughed lightly, pushing his empty bowl to the far corner of the table. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Now, where were we before I left? I think you were going to show me the pictures you found in a cave?” She hoped this came off with an unstudied air and didn’t show she had thought of nothing else since she had stepped away to help the other customers. She twisted her fingers together on her p, hidden from Jack’s view under the table.

  “Oh, right.” Jack seemed happy to continue the discussion on his research. He pulled a sheet of paper from the pile on his table and handed it to Gillian.

  It was the same page she had looked at that morning. The rune was clearly drawn and, as she studied it longer, she became more and more certain of what she was seeing. The drawing was roughly the shape of the diamond on a deck of cards, but rather than solid red, it was made up of hundreds of tiny symbols woven and twisted together in ornate patterns. Gillian didn’t know much about magic runes, but there was one symbol she recognized clearly– her father’s name.

  A scream worked its way up her throat but she swallowed it down with a strangled choke.

  “Are you alright?” Jack asked in a concerned tone. He rose slightly and rested a hand on her back.

  “Swallowed wrong, I guess,” she said with a little ugh. An idiotic expnation, but what was she going to say?

  Oh, you just stumbled upon an ancient vampire royalty tracking rune and could use it to either set a blood sucking army loose on the world or kill me and my entire species? No big deal.

  Jack seemed to accept her expnation and settled back into his seat. “Right,” he began again. “The cave drawings are incredibly complex but I have been able to identify individual hieroglyphic symbols that we’ve seen in other works. The meanings of many of the hieroglyphs have been identified already.” He gestured to the old, leather bound book open on his table. “So, I think if I can transte each symbol, I might be able to interpret the purpose behind the whole image.”

  “How close are you to finishing?” Gillian asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

  Before he could answer, there was a soft sound behind Gillian and she jerked her head towards the sound. Nothing looked out of pce, it was only her nerves that were on high alert.

  “Everything ok?” he asked, brows furrowed. “Perhaps I should go,” Jack said. He drained the st of his tea and gathered up his dishes.

  Gillian panicked. She couldn’t let him leave.

  “No, really. Don’t worry about it. Here, let me take that,” she jumped up and reached for the empty bowl and cup. As she took hold of the dishes, their hands brushed. She felt another rush of electricity and warmth coming from his bare skin, flowing from her fingertips up her arms. She quickly let go and stepped back.

  Jack stared at his hands. He set the dishes back down and looked up at her. “That was weird,” he said with an awkward ugh.

  Gillian wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was weird, but she had bigger things to worry about. She carefully took the dishes from the table and rushed off through the kitchen doors without another word.

  ***

  Safely inside the kitchen, Gillian closed her eyes and let out a relieved breath. She needed to get a hold of herself or the man would bolt. She had to stop him from pursuing his research, but she still wasn’t sure how.

  "When were you going to tell me about your little pet?" Philomena asked, coldly.

  Gillian’s eyes flew open and met the little cook’s gre. "Wha-what do you mean?" she stammered, blood draining from her face.

  Philomena folded her arms, unimpressed. "You think I wouldn’t notice you skulking around the hallway? It isn't like you to keep a snack around.”

  "It's not like that," Gillian defended herself. "He walked in on his own and I am…” She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. What was she doing with this human, and why did she feel weirdly protective of him? “...keeping him safe?" she ended mely.

  “Keeping him safe,” Philomena repeated bndly. “Is that why I can smell him all over you? Your trace is completely intertwined with his.”

  “That’s... not possible.” Gillian furrowed her brows. Did Phi really think she was keeping a human to feed on? “I haven’t–”

  Philomena cut her off. “And what even is he? I’ve never sensed anything quite like it. Some new delicacy you brought back from court, no doubt?” Her voice twisted with disgust. “Maybe I should send you back to your father, so you can spend the rest of your sentence in the dungeons instead of working here.”

  Gillian recoiled. Anything but the dungeons.

  “Please, Phi. You know I haven’t been back to court in two hundred years,” she argued. “And you very well know what he is,” she said, lowering her voice. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I swear the human walked in here on his own.”

  “Human?” Philomena scoffed. “Please. I think I’d know if a human were in my cafe.” She folded her arms across her flour-dusted apron.

  Gillian looked at her pointedly. “If anyone can detect a mortal, it would be me,” she countered. “He’s very obviously human.” She frowned, but added in a softer voice, “and you know I can’t– I won’t–”

  Philomena’s face softened as she struggled to put her life into words.

  Gillian didn’t drink human blood. Not anymore.