“Books break the shackles of time

– proof that humans can work magic.”

- Carl Sagan

Not a week later I checked my reflection in a shop front window. I was in my smartest suit from when I worked in the city, neatly tailored and a far cry from my waitress outfit.

“Query, you are concerned about your appearance, Bethany St James?”

“Only compared to a certain cousin.” I muttered and sighed. “When did I get so bitter? She can’t help being gorgeous.”

“I believe she could help being domineering, unkind and intimidating.” Rob remarked.

“I think you guys are all a bit biased.”

“Not at all. That was an honest statement with no resentment.”

“True.” We continued to walk to the courthouse. “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach.”

“Query, is this a reflection upon your nerves or have lepidoptera taken up residence within your digestive system?”

“Nerves, Rob, pure nerves.” I glanced at him and his folder of paperwork. “Do we have everything?”

“We are as fully prepared as possible.” Rob nodded and we walked across the pavers of the large courtyard that was dominated by a statue of a war hero and hedges so neat they looked as though they’d been cut with a laser beam. The courthouse had an old world feel about it which was somewhat spoiled by the posters and signs on the large double doors.

“Do you think Rafael will ever forgive me for leaving him and the others behind?”

“I cannot speak on his behalf with absolute certainty,” Rob admitted, “however, in addressing the judge about your legitimate claim to be named Johanne West’s primary care giver, you will need to be able to focus and not be distracted by courtroom antics.”

I swallowed. It had been a hard decision to insist to leave everyone but Rob behind at the café. The guys were none too impressed although Faelan and Eustace did try to see it from my perspective and Bastian was gracious although disappointed. However, Rafael’s eyes turned flinty and I could feel his disdain radiating from him.

“If Kendra’s there…” The butterflies increased to hummingbirds and I had to pause before the doors to quell my nerves.

“Whenever you are ready, Bethany St James.”

“Okay.” I licked my lips and forced myself to grasp the door handle, drawing it open on smooth hinges and stepped into the foyer. There was a reception counter on the left with an older woman sitting at it, typing with two fingers on her computer. She’d probably been a courtroom clerk when they used slate and chalk to write notes. “Excuse me?” She looked up, her eyes struggling to focus. She dropped her computer glasses and slotted the extra pair that had been perched on her head in front of her eyes. “I’m here to see Judge Howard Pence.”

“Name?”

“St James.”

“Hmmm…” She peered at the screen. “It seems you’re already here.”

“Huh?” She turned it towards me and tapped the screen. “No, that’s not me. That would have to be my cousin, Kendra,” my heart sank, “she has the same last name.”

“Oh…well I’ll pop in your first names and that will clear things up.” She tutted and clicked away. “What was your first name?”

“Bethany.”

“With a Y or an IE?”

“Uh…Y.” I looked at Rob and shrugged.

“Very good. St James versus St James.” She looked up. “Straight down the corridor, take the left at the T section and it’s right in front of you.”

“Thank you.” My heart was racing now and I hated how easily I was provoked.

“Query, how are your butterflies, Bethany St James?”

“I think they’re morphing into seagulls when they spy a random chip on the beach.” I grasped Rob’s arm before we reached the T turn. “Rob,” I whispered urgently, “what if Kendra is here? What do I say to her?”

Rob’s eyes blinked with their shutter speed unison. “If Kendra is here, and I believe she is, then she has dropped her façade of kindness and made her position clear. You need say nothing.” He smiled kindly, something he wouldn’t have been able to do before his upgrade without making himself to look like a maniacal clown and patted my hand. “Fear not, Bethany St James, for I will be with you.”

“I’m really glad you’re here.” I said strongly. “I wish I was braver.”

“Query, are you frightened?”

“Terrified?”

“Then you are incredibly brave.”

“Huh?”

“You are terrified…but you are here. That is bravery.”

I wished bravery was more like being numb than facing off against my fears but I nodded, let go of my death grip upon his arm and we turned the T corner to the left and saw, unsurprisingly, Kendra sitting on one of the chairs just outside the courtroom doors. She barely acknowledged our presence, casually scrolling through her phone, dressed like a lawyer in a dove grey suit with a briefcase by her side. She probably didn’t need it but it added to the image.

I sat on the other chair and resisted the temptation to clutch at Rob’s hand. I couldn’t act like a baby. I had to exude confidence…or at the very least, convey a vague sense of competence.

After only thirty seconds which felt like an hour, the doors to the courtroom opened and a security guard, as ancient as the woman at the front counter, beckoned us to enter.

The courtroom was tiny, three rows of benches, two desks on either side of the railing separating the gawking gallery from the actual court case, two rows of moderately comfortable benches where I guessed the jury would sit in an actual legal case and, at the far end of the room, was where the judge would sit when he made his appearance.

Kendra took the desk on the left so we, by default, took the one on the right. It was only a few seconds after sitting that the security guard cleared his throat.

“Please rise for the honourable Judge Pence.”

We did so and a man who made me think of a turtle without his shell and nearly drowning in his robes, ambled up to the judge’s seat and sat on it. I was impressed that we could see him at all and guessed that either his seat was specially designed for his height or there were about three cushions on it to prop him up.

“Please be seated.”

We did so. The judge picked up his paperwork and peered at it through his glass bottle bottom glasses.

“We are addressing today the matter of Johanne West, currently in a comatose state,” he read out, “and having reached the public health system threshold of three months without any improvement or decline, now requires a carer appointed.” He cleared his throat and looked up. “The case would have been made in a more informal setting but because there are two claimants for title of carer, I decided to host the case within the courtroom.” I nodded, hoping I looked studious and serious. Judge Howard Pence perused his paperwork some more. “I have read the documentation from the hospital and would now like to hear from the claimants.” He looked between the two desks. “As it is St James versus St James, could you please identify yourselves.”

Kendra stood up assertively. “Kendra Elizabeth St James.”

I stood. “Bethany St James.”

“You are cousins?”

“We are.” Kendra answered for us.

“From what I am reading here,” he adjusted his glasses, “Bethany St James, you are related to Johanne West biologically. Kendra St James, you are not?”

“I am related by marriage.”

The Judge pursed his lips. “It’s a bit of a jump, Miss St James, for you to be here. I would like to hear your explanation for your claim to be named as carer.”

Kendra nodded, cool as a cucumber.

“Your honour,” she said formally, “while I may only be related by marriage to Johanne West, I have had many interactions with her over the past ten years. My family have holidayed in Glenwilde and I spent a great deal of time at ‘House of Figs’ where Aunt Jo,” I bristled at her calling her aunt, “ran and operated the café. Even when I was studying a business degree at Alaston University, I still made the time to visit, to see how Jo ran the café for my own benefit but also, because she had no other family in Glenwilde to call upon for support.”

I dropped my hand from the desk, scrunching it into a fist. I felt Rob take it subtly and give it a squeeze. It was hard not to take Kendra’s subtle attack on my lack of interaction with Aunt Jo personally, feeling the rise of old inadequacies and regrets undermine my frail confidence.

“I helped Aunt Jo design a business plan for ‘House of Figs’, spending many hours with her as we envisioned a future for the café that she loved. Though I was not a blood relation, she treated me as if I was her niece and we spoke at length about many aspects of the business.”

I glanced at Rob who nodded. My heart began to sink.

“She was and still is very dear to me and in her current state, I want to ensure that she receives the best treatment and attention that she can. That includes making sure that ‘House of Figs’ is as profitable and healthy in its business state as it can possibly be for if and when she comes out of the coma and is able to take over.”

“And how long are you prepared to wait?” The Judge asked directly.

Kendra didn’t blink or flinch. “For as long as the doctors tell me that there is still hope and that her own physical body does not linger and decline, causing her untreatable pain or damage.”

Judge Howard Pence reviewed his information then turned to me. “Bethany St James, what is the nature of your claim to be named carer?”

I swallowed and stood up, trying not to tremble.

“Your honour,” I forced my voice to work, “I was born in Glenwilde and from a very early age I spent a great deal of time with Aunt Jo. My parents both worked fulltime, and my aunt was refurbishing the house, turning it into a café. We…I mean, I…” I felt a little nudge at my fingers and glanced down. Rob was easing my written notes into my hand. I had wanted to speak without them, knowing it would look more polished and professional but I was starting to lose the thread as my head pounded. I scraped the paper into my hands and breathed through the fear. “I practically lived with Aunt Jo for ten years and even had my own room. She hosted birthday parties for me, exposed me to her love of books and plants…we did day trips together…she was like a second mother to me.”

“What happened after ten years?”

“My parents moved to the city.”

“Did you come back?”

My hand holding the page dropped. “No. I didn’t.”

“Not even for a visit to this aunt you considered a second mother?”

All the information, the reasons for my being unable to visit suddenly seemed like petty excuses. I couldn’t bring myself to say them. I certainly didn’t think the judge would accept them.

“I…no, I didn’t.”

The judge was quiet for a moment. “Given that you are both cousins, is there no way that you can work this carer situation out together? I could grant joint custody of Johanne West.”

“Thank you for the consideration, your honour,” Kendra responded first to the unexpected offer, “however, I feel that my cousin has made her position quite clear as to my involvement. Though her father offered her my services repeatedly, Bethany refused to ask for help. I would have come to Glenwilde sooner except the seriousness of Aunt Jo’s condition was kept a secret by Bethany,” I stood up to object but Rob drew me down calmly, “and I was ignorant until three weeks ago. I immediately relocated to Glenwilde to discover that my aunt has shown no change whatsoever and my cousin, who is extremely out of her depth at running a business of any sort, let alone a café, operating ‘House of Figs’. She relies on the staff of ‘House of Figs’ to do everything and insists that all is fine, though it recently had to shut its doors to the sit down portion of the café due to staffing issues, while working as a waitress.”

I felt Judge Howard Pence’s eyes on me, quite sharply.

“Is this true?”

I floundered, not sure how to argue the point. To my unending relief, Rob stood up.

“Your honour, Rob Steward, ‘House of Figs’ logistics manager and accountant. Query, may I address the room?”

“Please do.”

“Miss St James has made Bethany St James out to be conniving and deceitful but I feel it is my responsibility to put her conduct into perspective.” Rob said and I envied him so much at his inability to feel fear or intimidation as I was sure Kendra’s eyes were firing arrows at him. “From the day that Bethany St James arrived in Glenwilde, she has been attentively attending to her aunt in the hospital, visiting every day. There has been no change in her condition, no improvement but also no decline which would raise alarm. She voiced concerns over the reopening of ‘House of Figs’ yet we, as I represent the staff of the café, convinced her that maintaining an already healthy business would represent a far better place to transition back to, if or when Johanne West wakes from her coma. I, myself, have been trained in how to handle the books and logistics and I have records showing that the café is generating a consistent profit.”

“When you’re not giving away free coffee…”

“Which was a kindness begun by Johanne West.” Rob responded without hesitation.

Judge Howard Pence studied his papers a moment, his freckled skin creasing into furrows.

“Why do you want to be named carer?” He asked quietly then looked at the both of us. “What is your motivation? Why are you here?” He asked Kendra specifically.

“I am here because I believe that Aunt Jo’s condition requires foresight and experience,” Kendra replied firmly, “what my cousin does not understand is the possible cost of medical bills for a long term coma patient. Is she really going to pay this on a waitress wage? ‘House of Figs’ might be profitable now but it has already suffered the loss of its grillardin and its dessert cook in the past week. Staff get sick or move on to other jobs. What will happen then? Is my cousin capable of hiring new staff? Of knowing what to look for in a barista or chef? My own work experience has generated many contacts that could have had ‘House of Figs’ back up to speed within a matter of hours. I know the business and I have had far more contact with Aunt Jo in the past ten years than my well intentioned but ill equipped cousin.”

I felt like a voodoo doll, stabbed so many times with pins that my insides were leaking out.

What could I say to that?

How could I refute what she had said?

None of it was untrue.

In fact, it was alarmingly accurate.

Maybe I couldn’t do this job.

“Bethany St James,” I looked up bleakly at the judge, “why are you here?”

I licked my lips and looked at Rob who nodded. I had to use my hands to push myself upright, my legs and knees trembling.

“I…I’m here…I mean, I want…” My hands were shaking so hard that I jammed one of them in my pocket, feeling the touch of metal and the curve of leather. I paused, knowing that I was holding the key Aunt Jo had sent me. I licked my lips and drew it out, gazing at its simple form before holding it out in my quivering hand. “I’m here because of this, your honour.” I laid the key on the table and kept my eyes on it. “Two days before I arrived in Glenwilde, I received this key in the post from my Aunt Jo. I knew immediately that it was the key to unlock ‘House of Figs’. I tried calling and when that failed I rang the police to ask if they knew anything. They were able to confirm that Aunt Jo had been taken to the hospital. I travelled to Glenwilde the very next day and have been here ever since.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening like a noose. “I regret a lot of things, your honour…like not visiting Glenwilde once in the ten years I’d been away or returning to live after the death of my mother nine months ago when Aunt Jo asked me. But when she sent me the key…when I knew something was wrong…I came.” I tried to meet his eyes. “I know the key is inadmissible as evidence…but you asked why I’m here…because I believe she asked me to come.”

The judge frowned, putting his hands together, his eyes glazed over in thought. I was sure I was shaking like a jelly.

“While the law tends to favour the linkage of biology, it has been my experience that the connection via blood between two people does not always mean a direct relative would be able to act on behalf of a comatose aunt in accordance to what would be their wishes.” He said at length. “This is why we have these hearings, to decide what is best for the patient not only in the prolonging of their life but possibly knowing when the time has come to move on. It is also equally important that the patient’s home and business is maintained which is a great responsibility as well. It would be remiss of me not to look at all the qualifications, whether they be biological, capabilities and experience. All of these factors come into play in the one question I need to answer today. Who, here, is not only best qualified to look after Johanne West, but also who would best represent her interests in all aspects of her life.”

He cleared his throat and I braced myself for his decision.

However, before the judge could speak, there was a commotion outside the room. We twisted in our seats to look at the door, hearing a cacophony of voices beyond it. I thought I recognised them and glanced at Rob who nodded.

“Oh no…”

Abruptly the door burst open and four rather indignant young men strode into the courtroom.

“I object!”

“It’s not a wedding you fool.”

“Oh good, we found the right room.”

“Bethany, are we too late?”

“Order, order in my courtroom!” Judge Howard Pence banged his gavel and barked loudly at them. “Have you no respect for the privacy of the courtroom?”

“Forgive us, your honour,” Faelan said with a nice bow, “but we are the rest of the staff from ‘House of Figs’ and we wished to come and support Bethany St James in her appeal to be named carer.”

“Then I suggest you sit down and stop causing a ruckus!”

I stood up and glared at them. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“Just like Faelan said,” Eustace insisted, “we came to support you.”

“You’re doing exactly what I didn’t want you to do…by making a scene!” I snapped.

“You have no control over the staff of ‘House of Figs’.” Kendra said scathingly.

I turned to the judge. “Your honour, I do apologise…they’re just very fond of my aunt.”

“I can understand their enthusiasm…I’m just not that keen on the manner in which it is being displayed.” Judge Howard Pence grumbled. “Well, if you’re here to represent ‘House of Figs’, you’d best give your names to the clerk.”

“Bastian Wolfgang,” Bastian stood and nodded his head, “I am the grillardin at ‘House of Figs’.”

“I understand you have been unable to perform your duties at times, leaving ‘House of Figs’ without a cook?”

“I was injured when I aided in another’s defence and I had to recover to sanitary standards.” Bastian explained, gesturing lightly to his eye where the only scar of his fight with the werewolves was displayed.

“And you?”

Faelan gave another smooth bow. “Faelan Iffah.”

“Iffah? Is that…Scandinavian?”

Faelan paused. “I believe it is further north.”

Thankfully the judge seemed okay with the explanation and turned to Eustace. “And you are?”

“Eustace Drago, trainee barista and whatever else required.” Eustace replied easily.

“And you sir, with the dour expression?”

“Rafael Grayson,” the vampire said with an elegant and formal sweeping bow, “barista of ‘House of Figs’ and chief instigator of our invasion of this courtroom.”

“When he says chief instigator, we had to chase him down when he left without telling us.” Bastian admitted.

I groaned and sank into my chair, my hands over my head as if I could somehow separate myself from the damning chaos.

“I merely wanted to explain that this intrusion was of my doing and would not want it to reflect upon the claimants before you today.” Rafael explained. “However, your honour, may I make an address reflecting upon the nature of Johanne West?”

“Very well, I will allow it.”

Rafael swept through the little gate, past the two desks to stand before the judge.

“Your honour, in order to have a greater understanding of Johanne West, it is imperative to understand the nature of ‘House of Figs’.” He began eloquently. “That building represents so much more than a business or a fascinating Glenwilde architectural feature. It is a place of safety, where those who work there can come, be passionate, experiment and create. All of us who have come to think of it as our second home will attest to this fact.” He glanced back at the guys.

“I was in need of vision, of something more than what I’d always done.” Bastian announced. “Jo helped me to try new things, to see things differently…and in doing so she opened a whole new world of possibilities that I never even dreamed of.”

I smiled softly at him, imagining the werewolves of Alte Fehde eating and drinking around a feasting table crammed with the bounty of a harvest, roasted meats and steins filled with warm milk.

“I was restless, bound to repeat the same thing I had always done,” Faelan explained calmly in his smooth, silky voice, “yet in ‘House of Figs’ I discovered the challenge of confectionary and the delight in creating something fresh and new.”

His smashed pavlova, his broken pride and his need to break out of the limitations his father had laid on his shoulders out of fear and claustrophobic xenophobia came back to me and my heart bled a little.

“I think it’s safe to say I was the village idiot,” Eustace declared and I cringed, “yet Jo never made me feel less about my role in the café and, over time and the recent development of becoming a father, I have come to the realisation that I want to add something to this world and not just take without comprehending the consequence. I want my son to learn these lessons and could think of no better place for him to absorb the kindness of people than at ‘House of Figs’.”

Eustace, with James on his shoulders, dancing about on the lawn…or playing in the ocean of his world in dragon form…losing none of the fun yet gaining so much more than his brief attention span had allowed him to have before.

“I was in need of retraining,” Rob stood up, “my work had become…outmoded. I needed a new skill set and struggled greatly with anything beyond that which I was familiar. Yet in every failed skill attempt, Jo simply saw opportunity to try something new until I settled into my current role, a change in career that has given me far greater purpose and respect for myself than my previous occupation.”

Dear Rob, designed to do nothing more than appease the sexual appetites of a hypocritical society, finally safe within the walls of ‘House of Figs’, finding that there was more to life than being used and tossed aside. He was appreciated and loved, seen by all and not hidden in a cupboard somewhere, waiting for someone to call his name.

“As for myself, your honour,” Rafael continued, “I come from…a very broken family.” I watched him pause, swallowing and saw his fingers clench as if bracing himself. “I could see nothing in my future but more of the same brokenness and my heart ached with a soulless emptiness…that I was desperate to escape.” Rafael paused again. “I…tried to kill myself…several times…and every time I survived I lamented that I had not broken the shackles of my life from my body.” We were all still and silent as Rafael continued. “When Jo found me, I was near death and I confess, I despised her for bringing me back to life…but she didn’t force me to keep on living a life that I could no longer stand. She gave me a safe place to be, away from my family…a job to do, a fascination with something more than my day to day hell…it was more than I ever dreamed of, to be safe…” Rafael closed his eyes. “When the door locked to ‘House of Figs’, I felt the wild and unrestrained pull of despair, gnawing at me, dragging me down to death. Even when Bethany unlocked the door, I was sure that ‘House of Figs’ would be irreparably changed and my sanctuary, broken and unrecognisable.”

He lifted his head and looked at the judge calmly. “The truth is, I had no love or respect for Bethany St James. She knew nothing about the business, nothing about what it truly represented…about what her aunt’s role in it was. She didn’t know the first thing about what it meant to us,” he gestured to the guys, “to the community…as a home…and yet, somehow, despite her overwhelming ignorance…Bethany St James emulates her aunt’s kindness and compassion. She has not rejected me because of my moodiness and unpleasant behaviour nor has she changed the way Jo wanted ‘House of Figs’ to operate. It has nothing to do with her experience or her certificates and training. It has to do with the heart and soul of ‘House of Figs’. That’s what Jo was to the café and to all of us…and Bethany,” he looked back at me, his pale eyes soft and tender, “has continued to do the same. Without her, ‘House of Figs’ would just be a building that served coffee and food…”

“It’s not a charity,” Kendra barked, breaking the heavy atmosphere like she’d hit a pane of glass with a hammer, “and it’s not a mental health asylum. ‘House of Figs’ does not exist to make you feel better about yourselves. It’s there to be a café, run professionally with competent staff.”

“Which is why Jo rejected all your suggestions of change to the café in the past,” Rafael retorted and Kendra’s mouth hardened, “for not one of them was based upon compassion or kindness.”

“She nearly ran that place into the ground with her ‘compassion’.” Kendra argued.

“Until she trained us all up, one at a time, not just in the jobs we had to do but in capturing her vision and heart for the community.” Faelan added.

“And let it be known, here and now,” Rafael glared at Kendra, “should you be named carer of Johanne West and, by default, manager of ‘House of Figs’, I will quit for I refuse to work for you.”

“Same goes for me, too.” Bastian nodded.

“Here, here!” Eustace declared.

“I hope you have enough ‘connections’ to replace all of us.” Rafael said sharply.

“Please,” Kendra snorted, a most unladylike sound, “I was going to fire you the moment I could. You think you’re something special? Baristas are a dime a dozen. And as for the rest of you,” she looked at the other guys, “if you persist in this ridiculous dream of a café being less than practical, you can follow him for all I care.”

“That’s the problem, Kendra,” I said quietly, meeting her gaze for the first time, “when you say ‘less than’, we see it as being ‘more than’. Aunt Jo didn’t love the business. She loved the people.”

“I have heard quite enough, thank you.” Judge Howard Pence spoke before Kendra could fire an angry retort at me. “I would like an hour to consider all that I have heard. Please, take yourselves outside this courtroom…go get a coffee.”

Kendra left in a sweeping flurry and strode past us, down the corridor and out of the courthouse. We scampered to escape the courtroom and stood blinking in the sunlight of the courtyard. I turned and looked at the guys.

“Sorry, Bethany.” Eustace blurted.

“I fear we may have made things worse.” Faelan admitted.

“You can fall over yourselves in abject misery,” Rafael said sharply, his paleness brightening in the sunlight, “I, for one, had something to say about the matter and don’t give a damn what you thought. Whatever you may think…”

Stolen story; please report.

I wrapped my arms around his angular body and hugged him. I could feel his arms holding out from me, like Jet when James climbed into his lap.

“Thank you.” I said softly into his shirt.

“Oh…” Rafael gently pushed me away and cleared his throat. “Well…”

“Shall we get an ice cream?” Bastian asked brightly. “It’s a lovely day.”

“Yeah…let’s.” I nodded.

Perusing the flavours of ice cream and laughing about bizarre combinations was enough to take our minds off the imminent decision by the judge. I suspected we were all being overly bright about the ice creamery and trying all the flavours, doing our best to avoid the topic to the point where it was nearly laughable. After choosing our ice creams, we walked lazily back to the courthouse and sat on the wall around the outer gardens, licking stray dribbles and admiring the statue of the war hero.

“Eustace,” I looked at the water dragon, “um…where’s James?”

“Oh, I left him at the café.” I jolted and Eustace chuckled. “I asked Jet to babysit.”

I nearly lost my mouthful of cherry ripe ice cream in my snort of laughter. “Oh no! Poor Jet!”

“He’ll be fine. I think James recognises what we all are, you know, behind our human façade.” Eustace winked. “There’s something a bit normal about you and Jet that he finds weird.”

I giggled and bit into my ice cream, chewing through chunks of chocolate and coconut and cherry. Rafael was on his feet, gazing at the statue, reading the inscription. I twisted and looked at Rob. He saw my expression and sidled closer.

“Did you know, about Rafael?” I whispered as low as I could into his ear.

“I knew that he came to ‘House of Figs’, he was a very broken, distrustful young man.” Rob confessed. “Jo asked me to help protect him. As he does not require physical protection, I knew she meant to keep his past from scrutiny.”

“Then, it’s a pretty big deal, what he said in there.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

With five minutes to spare we re-entered the courthouse after a stern warning from me to be quiet and respectful.

“If the judge doesn’t rule in our favour, I don’t want there to be an uproar.” I explained.

“We’ll be quiet.” Bastian promised for all of them, even Rafael who nodded.

Kendra was already there, smelling like freshly brewed coffee. We took our places, Rob and myself at the desk and the other four sitting behind us. It seemed as though the judge was waiting for us to arrive as he was prompt in appearing and clambered up to his seat. He cleared his throat, a handwritten note in his hand which he seemed to be reading from, as though he needed to be reminded what to say just as much as I had.

“Cases such as these present judges like myself with the responsibility of putting a vulnerable person into the care of another,” he read out quietly and we leaned forward to listen, “In a matter of minutes, we are required to make a decision that could greatly change the course of someone’s life and of the lives around them. We must make logical and thoughtful choices, with long lasting implications for those with whom we assign responsibility and authority. I have looked at the information provided, the various expertise and experience presented as well as the relationship existing between the patient and the two claimants and I have come to a decision. Will the claimants please rise?”

I stood up, willing my legs to remain steady.

“Miss Kendra St James,” the judge looked at her and she met his gaze confidently, “your excellent transcripts, experience and extensive training in business management make you a prime candidate for the position of ‘House of Figs’ manager and you possess the ability to think pragmatically about the long term care and financial obligation of being responsible for a comatose patient,” my heart sank as Kendra’s chin lifted, her eyes flashing with triumph and I felt Rob grasp my hand and hold me firmly, “however, I am ruling in favour of Bethany St James as carer of Johanne West,” I gasped and nearly fell down, “because in the case of caring for someone who has obligations and responsibilities beyond the realm of ‘normal life’, it is more critical to capture the same spirit. This I believe you have done, Miss St James,” he said looking at me firmly, “as proven by the testimony of your fellow ‘House of Figs’ staff and companions. With their help and your guidance, you have what it takes to continue the tradition of ‘House of Figs’, caring for what your aunt poured her life, quite literally, into.”

He cleared his throat and stood up, not greatly increasing his height behind his podium. “Bethany St James, you are hereby charged with the responsibility of Johanne West and the authority over her medical condition as well as her home and business until such time as she recovers from her coma or passes away. Court is adjourned.”

I stood, stunned and numb while the guys, four of them anyway, whooped and shouted with delight, banging on the desks and embracing me. I turned and stared at them.

“Is it real?” I whispered.

“It’s real.” Bastian chuckled.

“Well done, Bethany.”

“You held your own.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

I looked at Rafael who gave me a ghost of a smile. “Shall we go home?”

“Yes, let’s go home.” I beamed.

Rafael poured glasses of champagne for everyone when we returned to ‘House of Figs’. Jet had been very relieved to see us, almost as much as he was to hear that the judge had ruled in our favour. James was asleep on the lounge upstairs and Jet looked a little haggard.

“He just doesn’t stop.” He moaned.

“Here,” Rafael handed him a glass, “share in the celebration.”

“It’ll relax you.” Bastian leaned against the counter. “What shall we toast to?”

“Goodbye to Kendra?”

“Bethany’s triumph?”

“How about to ‘House of Figs’?” I suggested simply.

We all seemed to like that one and the glasses clinged together with a delicate chime.

“To ‘House of Figs’!”

I sipped at the champagne then paused. “I really shouldn’t be drinking this on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll whip us up a little carbonara pasta.” Bastian offered, nipping behind the counter. “Oooh, with a little chicken and spinach…and sundried tomatoes…”

“You’ll all stay, won’t you?” I asked the guys. “Please, just to eat together…”

“Of course we’ll stay for dinner.” Eustace insisted. “I’ll set the table.”

“I will make up some black forest affogato,” Faelan offered, “if Rafael would be gracious enough to prepare the coffee?”

“I’ll do whatever needs doing I guess.” Jet shrugged and went over to the table to help Eustace.

“I will answer the door.”

“Huh?” I turned to Rob. “Who would be at the door?”

Rob opened it and a shrivelled old man stood on the threshold. It took us all a moment of staring before I blurted,

“Judge Pence?”

“Just Howard,” he held up his hands, “I like to shed my robes and responsibility outside of the courtroom.”

“Of course, won’t you come in?” He shuffled into the café. “We were just celebrating with some champagne. Would you like a glass?”

“Oh no, I’ve got to drive home.” He cleared his throat. “Miss St James, I am here in an unofficial capacity.”

“Alright.” I offered him and seat and sat opposite him. I could feel the eyes of all six guys on us.

“You ought to know that your cousin, Kendra, has filed a complaint against my ruling and an appeal against my decision.”

Bastian muttered something angrily behind the counter.

“We probably should have expected the appeal.” I admitted. “But why file a complaint against you? That hardly seems fair.”

“It throws weight behind her appeal, saying that I was biased in my decision making.” Howard explained. “Oh, why thank you.” He looked at Rafael who placed a coffee in front of him.

“You aren’t biased…are you?” I asked.

“Unavoidably so.” He smiled, creasing his turtle without a shell, face. “Last year, ‘House of Figs’ hosted a wedding anniversary dinner for my wife and I.”

“I recalled as much upon hearing your name.” Rob explained.

“It was a surprise for my wife. Your aunt,” he looked at me, “could not have been more attentive and kind. She didn’t mind the small details that I insisted upon to make it special for my wife who loved music.”

“The grand piano desserts,” Faelan nodded, “with fresh cream and raspberries inside the lid.”

“She talked about it for weeks and weeks afterwards.” Howard chuckled. “The coffees with the treble clef latte art, the stringed quartet playing her favourite melodies and the meals so perfectly cooked, I didn’t struggle with my false teeth.” He laughed softly then quietened down. “She died four months after the party…and the photos from that night still comfort me.” He sighed and clasped his hands together. “The thing is, there are only three judges in Glenwilde and I guarantee that all of them will have some kind of bias towards ‘House of Figs’. It was unavoidable.”

“So, we won the battle but not the war?” I asked quietly.

“I gave you enough time to prepare for the war.” Howard explained. “It is clear to me that your cousin wants to change ‘House of Figs’ though I don’t see anything wrong with it and the financial statements you provided show that it is operating just fine. You ought to be prepared for a backlash, possible health inspector visits or scrutiny of the legality of serving alcoholic beverages, that sort of thing. I would encourage your books and your business to be above board and beyond reproach.”

“We will meet these challenges head on.” Bastian insisted.

“As I thought you might.” He turned to me. “I would make a serious suggestion to you, Bethany.”

“Alright.”

“Your cousin has the hallmarks of an excellent manager and displays confidence and competence. A judge in the future may well rule in her favour and to own the truth, I was tempted.”

“You’re saying I’m the weak link?” I asked without bitterness.

“Yes, but not in any permanent condition. I recommend you start business courses, begin to increase your knowledge base and ask the doctor at the hospital for reading literature for care of long term coma patients. Your weakness is easily rectified and with the right training, even if you’re only part way through, will go a long way to presenting a more competent front.” I felt my shoulders sag a little. Howard leaned over and caught my eye. “There are worse things to be afflicted with than ignorance my dear for that is easily treated. Being unkind or lacking in compassion…there are no courses to combat that.”

I nodded and stood up. “You’re right, of course. I never thought it would get this far…but I’m going to start thinking long term now. I don’t know that I’ll ever reach a place where I can accept switching off the machines that keep Aunt Jo alive but I’d like to have a greater understanding of the world she loved.”

“Good girl.” Howard pushed himself to his feet and slurped his coffee. “I question that young woman’s business sense in threatening to fire you, Mr Grayson.” He looked at Rafael.

“She doesn’t like me because she knows I won’t tolerate her.” He chuckled darkly.

Howard nodded then paused. “I don’t wish to seem insensitive to your trauma, Mr Grayson…but should you require mental health assistance, I know of some very competent psychologists you could speak with.”

I held my breath, wondering how Rafael would take this intrusion into his life, albeit shared briefly and vulnerably in the courtroom.

“I thank you for your consideration,” Rafael bowed, “however, I have everything I need right here.”

“Very well. Thank you for the coffee.” Howard waved to us and shuffled towards the door. Rob walked him out to the gate.

I felt the mood quieten and turned to eye all the guys. “I’m not worried,” I announced, “I mean, it’s not ideal…but we’re a good team and like Howard said, we’ve got time to prepare for the war.”

“How does it feel having won a battle against Kendra?”

I frowned. “I don’t like the idea that I have to beat Kendra in order to feel better about myself. To be honest, I felt stronger and happier while we were eating ice cream when we didn’t know what the verdict would be than I had beforehand. It’s nice to know that we won this battle…but I think it’s nicer to know that I’ve got all of you in my corner…even when you’re making a hell of a ruckus.”

“Here, here!” Eustace crowed.

“That is why we prefer you over Kendra any day.” Faelan declared.

“Princesses aren’t pretty, petty souls…but hardworking, compassionate warriors.” Bastian nodded. “Now, who wants carbonara?”

The pasta was incredibly delicious and filling. Bastian served it in a large bowl and we all took a portion to eat, some of us a little heavy handed with the parmesan. Eustace woke James up to eat and he sat between myself and his father, chortling as he sucked up long, flat strands of fettucine. Rafael’s coffee was aromatic and hit the spot, poured over perfect scoops of ice cream with dark cherries, dark chocolate and wafers that Faelan served. James was fascinated by ice cream, spooning some into his mouth and just letting it melt, feeling it trickle down his throat.

While Kendra’s immediate appeal response to the judge’s decision had taken the edge off the celebration, we were still in high spirits. Even as we gathered the dishes to wash up, dodging around James who insisted on trying to help, his tiny hands grasping large bowls, our joy remained strong. We’d gained a hard earned victory and it buoyed our hope for the future that we could actually succeed.

As I put the wide mouthed cups away that Faelan had served the black forest affogato in, I spied a figure on the veranda. I turned around and did a quick headcount. Rafael was missing. While everyone else was laughing or playing with James, I slipped outside to spy Rafael standing at the edge of the veranda, his alkaline features bathed in moonlight. I wanted to say something after his vulnerable confession in front of the judge yet everything I felt I could muster wasn’t enough or sounded like grovelling in my head.

I’d just made up my mind to go, sure I would only infuriate him out of his good mood with my indecision when I heard him speak.

“You can stay if you want.”

I glanced back at him. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” I joined him at the edge of the veranda, the night air lacking its wintery bite. “Seasons are changing.” He said quietly as though reading my thoughts.

“I think we could all do with a little warmth.” I admitted.

“Indeed.”

I licked my lips. “Rafael, I feel a little like Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Who? Is she a customer?”

“No, a literary character from the book ‘Pride and Prejudice’.”

“Are you feeling a tad fictional?”

Usually by now in a conversation, Rafael would be biting my head off. As he was still amiable I decided to continue to speak.

“No, what I mean is, she has a line that goes something like…I can go no longer without thanking you…she knows she’s risking offending or injuring Mr Darcy, a man she’s come to admire and care for but her need to express her gratitude overwhelms every other sensibility she has…”

“And what would you say to me?” Rafael turned and locked eyes with mine.

I found myself breathless and wordless in his gaze. I looked away and swallowed.

“Thank you…for what you said today.”

Rafael made a soft huffing sound. “You already thanked me.”

“It didn’t seem enough for what you gave up.”

“What did I give up?”

“The mask you wear.” I felt him look at me but didn’t respond, staring at the moonlit lawn, every blade of grass sharply outlined so that, had I the time and patience, I could count every single one. “You never let anyone close and we all respect that. But in that courtroom, you said some things…that were hard to say…” Rafael was quiet and I wondered if he could hear my heart beating. He didn’t seem to see the need to respond and I didn’t want to push him. “That’s all I wanted to say. I won’t bother you again.”

“You don’t bother me.”

“Ha,” I let out a small laugh, “we both know that’s not true.”

“Perhaps I should have said, you don’t bother me like you used to.”

“You mean, I bother you with annoyances anew?”

“If you like.”

“I know I like having you here.” I confessed. “I know I like knowing that you like being here too.”

“Some days more than others,” Rafael turned to me and I felt the coolness of his gaze warm a little, “but even on the darkest day here, I would prefer to be at ‘House of Figs’ than anywhere.”

I studied him a moment, the revealing of his angst in the courtroom softening my appraisal of his sharp corners and cutting edges.

“Maybe you could stay?”

Rafael’s expression became inexplicably saddened by words meant to comfort him.

“Not yet,” he looked at the moon, “but one day, maybe.”

Kendra had disappeared from the courtroom before I’d recovered from the judge’s decision so I hadn’t had a chance, or a terrifying moment, to speak to her afterwards. And it seemed once the line of her intent was drawn in the sand, she didn’t bother with coming back to the café to maintain the façade. However, her presence was still felt.

We had a visit from a health inspector. I suspected that Glenwilde didn’t have its own so the man who came, with his clipboard and hardened expression, came from the city…possibly somewhere connected with a certain hotel. He scoured ‘House of Figs’ with toothbrush attention but of course, after the warning from Howard, the kitchen and storeroom passed with flying colours. It would have passed before but the guys had made sure there was no foothold for a complaint to take root in.

There was a demand for an audit of our books which Rob had in immaculate condition and one day there was a food critic in the café as well. We didn’t know about it until Rob announced that, through his usual routine web search, he had come across an article stating that the food at ‘House of Figs’ was a ‘divine experience’ that beggared belief.

“She’s not pulling any punches.” Jet muttered when he heard about the scrutiny we were under.

“Yes, but look at it this way…it’s also in our favour. We can use those findings to back our own case and as we didn’t instigate them, they aren’t biased towards us.” I explained.

“Wow, you’re seeing all of this in a positive light.”

“Yeah, I am.” I smiled. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You’d think she’d give up on the whole endeavour.”

“Not when her pride is at stake.” Bastian muttered as he cleaned his griddle pan. “Kendra can’t suck it in and accept that she lost. She’s determined to prove she’s the one to run the café.”

“It’s what she always wanted.” Rafael nodded. “Every time she visited, she suggested change that Jo never took on board. That rankled Kendra’s pride too and now her second rate cousin, her opinion of you, not ours,” I laughed, knowing exactly what he meant when he said it, “has one upped her. Eustace, you need a finer grind for that particular coffee bean.”

With Rafael’s tutelage, Eustace was becoming quite adept in the café and his dragon sense of smell was even more delicate than the vampire’s. When I first met them, Rafael had little respect and no time at all for the impulsive, ADD behaved water dragon. It was heart warming to see them working side by side.

“I smell coffee!”

“You’re surrounded by it!” I laughed at Eustace.

“No, I mean…I smell something rather…unique…”

“We have a delivery.” Rob announced, bringing the box into the café. “It is coffee from the Black Ivory Coffee Company.”

I glanced at Rafael whose expression had frozen. He came out from behind the counter and gazed at the box, equal parts fear to anticipation. He used a blade to cut the tape, a black box inside, decorated with a gold seal, embossed with a logo of an elephant. He lifted it out reverently and I thought I saw his fingers tremble. The box opened with a sigh and he lifted a strange contraption out of it. It was on a wooden base, a clear glass on the left that looked like a delicate dessert carafe and on the right, a mini boiler with pipes and connections in between.

“What is it?” I breathed.

“A nineteen forties French styled siphon coffee brewer,” Rafael breathed, “made specifically for brewing Black Ivory coffee.”

He drew three bags out of the box, black with the same gold seal. The scent of chocolate, of earth so rich you wanted to bury your hands deep into it and delicate notes of fruit danced through the air.

“It’s a beautiful coffee brewer and will look gorgeous on the counter.” I nodded, knowing that Rafael loved all the different ways of brewing coffee. There was always one on the counter with corresponding bags of coffee sitting next to it, each one designed to encourage the beans to give up their individual flavour in amazing ways.

We left Rafael to his coffee brewing, knowing he loved to focus and absorb the process of creating the perfect cup of coffee.

“Where are you two going on your day off?” I asked Eustace who was holding a sleepy James in his arms. “I mean, you know, when he wakes up.”

Eustace chuckled. “I’m going to take James for a good soaking in dragon form and then we’re going egg hunting.”

“Egg hunting?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” I shook my head. “We’ve come across more dragon eggs.”

“I thought there was only one appearing now and then…”

“I can’t explain it.” Eustace admitted. “But my world seems to…sense the imbalance and tries to correct it.”

“You mean, when it sensed a father was required to challenge the mother, it only allowed one egg to form?”

“I think so.” Eustace nodded. “Now that eggs are safe from malicious attack, there are more and more appearing.”

“Maybe safe from that insidious creature that called herself your mother, but what about the playful dragons?”

“We’re collecting the eggs into a nest in my territory. Apparently the other dragons won’t cross into it.” Eustace beamed. “They seem to be slightly afraid of me.”

I couldn’t imagine being afraid of the handsome, fresh faced young man with the blue eyes and white hair who smelled of the ocean…but in his dragon form he was pretty ferocious.

“You’re going to be a very busy parent.”

“Actually, the eggs that are appearing aren’t like the one James was in.” Eustace hiked James up and the little boy mumbled in coherently, his thumb in his mouth. “I think the one egg that pushed us into a new era, turning me into the Lord of Dragons,” I liked how easily he said his title, without pomp or ceremony but just as a simple statement of fact, “was a bit of a one off. I can see differences in the eggs, some are like rocks, others are hot like chunks of glowing embers and the wind dragon eggs are small and light and if you listen closely enough, you can hear a storm inside of them. It’s possible that each of these new baby dragons will usher in new parents of the different elements of dragons.”

“That sounds incredible.” I frowned. “You didn’t mention water dragons.”

“We’ll look for dragon eggs within the ocean, as they seem to appear close to the element they represent…but it may be that I need a mate in order to reproduce.” Eustace paused. “What are you doing on your day off? Want to come with me?”

“Wait, what?” I blanched and took a step back from a bemused Eustace.

“What did I say?”

“Did you just ask my princess if she wanted to come to your world to reproduce?” Bastian demanded, removing his apron and flexing his muscles.

“No!” Eustace blurted. “No, I just thought I’d ask…oh wait…”

“So you’re saying my princess isn’t good enough for the Lord of Dragons?”

“Make up your mind you insufferable werewolf.” Faelan rolled his eyes. “Or do you really believe Bethany would prefer your meat tenderiser method to a more delicate approach.”

“You can’t possibly be speaking about the water dragon method of love making so I’m guessing you’re talking about elvish delicacy?”

“Oh good grief.” I moaned.

“You are all incorrect,” Rob announced, joining the argument, “Bethany St James is quite capable of choosing for herself.”

“You’re just saying that cause you spend more time with her than anyone.”

“Quit hogging the princess.”

“Pork is wholly unappealing whether it be meat or being selfish.”

“I’m getting out of this conversation.” I escaped their little argument and went over to Rafael. “Sorry, I know you’re concentrating but their attention make me uncomfortable at times.”

He lit the wick beneath the little boiler, setting a cup out ready for the brew.

“You really think that I am the one to protect you?”

“I think if it was a choice between being competitive,” I jerked my head towards the arguing men, “and your latest coffee bean acquisition, that I am far safer with you than anyone.”

Rafael’s lips formed a slight smile. “That could be true enough.” He then looked up. “I suggest you all return to your worlds or the work that you are neglecting while fighting over a young woman whom you are making uncomfortable with your claims of passion.”

The other four looked at Rafael then turned to me.

“Sorry, Bethany St James.”

“Apologies, princess.”

“Please forgive my conduct.”

“I will reframe from any such boasting in the future.”

“I guess, we’re all just a little bit fond of you.” Bastian admitted.

“That may be,” I sighed, “but the last thing we need is for all of you to fall out over me…I mean, I’m hardly everyone’s cup of tea. I’m sure you’re just trying to make me feel special…but please don’t turn this into a competition.”

“Of course.” Bastian bowed. “I shall return to Alte Fehde…”

“Please take that parcel to Gwen for me.”

“I shall but I will let Armin deliver it.” Bastian winked. “Enjoy your day off!”

“I will deliver the new books to my mother in Elvan.” Faelan promised.

“Will you spend some time in the divine light cave?”

“Perhaps just to freshen up.” He nodded. “Farewell.”

“I’m sorry, Bethany,” Eustace cringed, “I didn’t mean to spark that argument. I didn’t mean to proposition you either. I mean, not that I wouldn’t…I mean, that I would…”

“I’ve never seen you blush before.”

“Oh I need a nice, cold dip.” Eustace sighed then smiled. “I did think, if James can maintain his human form consistently, that I might organise a play day, perhaps with Jess’ children. I think it will help him adapt his form more.”

“As long as he never forgets how to be a water dragon.”

“There’s no chance of that.” Eustace winked. “He sneezed and watered the whole backyard.”

I waved the two of them out, James flopped limply over Eustace’s shoulder, sleeping contentedly in his father’s embrace.

“Query, would you care to look at the list of business management course options I have assembled, Bethany St James?”

“Yeah, I should do that.” I glanced at Rafael. “You don’t mind working down here by yourself?”

“I’m hardly a child in need of babying.” Rafael said tersely.

We left Rafael to his coffee brewing, going to the office where Rob’s list of possible courses was quite extensive. I hadn’t realised there were so many options. We talked about the various workloads, the need for some intensive training away and the methods for online learning. Rob was good to bounce ideas off of because he delivered answers in his calm, emotionless way.

“I’m thinking it’s between these three courses,” I pointed to the screen, the courses being amongst the top five that Rob had picked out, “and while this one covers a lot more, it’s pricier and it goes for longer…”

“Remember what Judge Howard Pence said,” Rob reminded me, “simply enrolling and studying will present an assertive effort on your behalf to be a better ‘manager’ and discredit Kendra’s criticisms of you.”

“True.” I pushed back from the computer and rubbed my face. “Oh I’m tired…how bout a break?”

“I do not require rest. Query, why do you not have a shower and go to bed and I will lock up ‘House of Figs’?”

“You know what, I’m not going to fight you on that.” I got up and yawned. “Are we still going to go to the markets tomorrow?”

“I have several lists from Faelan, Bastian and Rafael for things to purchase.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Rob.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Bethany St James.”

The markets were a fantastic day away from the café, light and airy and freeing my mind from the ever present pressures of ‘House of Figs’. And it seemed we weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the holiday atmosphere. We bumped into Jet and Gary who were perusing the stalls. We ended up spending much of the day together and by the time we finally entered the cul de sac where ‘House of Figs’ rested calmly and quietly at the very back, I was tired but refreshed.

Rob insisted he could put the shopping away so I grabbed a hot shower, kneading my aching muscles with the pressure and dressed in my pjs. An icy draught hit me and I glared at the window. I’d cracked it open as the days were becoming pleasant. Not warm but nice enough for me to want some of the outside air to refresh my bedroom. However, the night air was still clinging to the memory of winter. I crossed my bedroom and went to push it down when I saw something strange sticking out from behind the fig tree’s base. It was a foot attached to a leg and the shoe on it was somewhat familiar.

I grabbed my dressing gown as I hurried out of my room, slinging it on as I hastened down the stairs and unlocked the front door. As I crossed the lawn, my ugg booted foot connected with something hard. I let out a short gasp and looked down at the offending object. It was a glass jar, somewhat bulbous with a hinged lid held shut with a latch rather than a typical jam jar with a screw top. I frowned and picked it up. There were some remaining drops of whatever had been inside of it. I put my nose closer and sniffed then gagged.

“Ugh…fermented much?” I held onto the jar as I skirted the base of the fig tree’s trunk, spying the shoe that was familiar and then the long leg and finally the body attached to it. “Rafael?” He was sagged against the roots, his hair as black as tar and his face as pale as the moon. “What on earth are you doing here?”

He looked up at me, his eyes struggling to focus then he smiled broadly, showing off his fangs.

“Bethany…”

His appearance, which was always immaculate, had become downright scruffy. His coat was undone, he’d lost a shoe and he was rumpled as though everything, including himself, needed a good iron.

I went around him, picking my way across the roots, his long legs and the multiple empty cherry jars.

“I thought you’d gone home. Why are you here?” I knelt beside him.

“I didn’t go home…I’ve been here aaaaallllllllllll day…and night…and day…and,” he tried to count on his fingers then snorted, “I forget…”

“Rafael,” I stared at him, “are you drunk?”

“Sssssshhhhhhhh,” he said, putting his finger to his lips but still managing to blow a sizeable breath in my direction, “don’t tell Jo.”

“Good grief,” I gagged, “you could wake her out of the coma with that breath!” He giggled, shushing himself as he did so then giggling again. It was so out of character for the stoic vampire that it was a little creepy…and more than a little funny. “What are you doing here?”

He lost interest in the conversation, singing softly to himself, his fingers dancing through the air as though conducting a hidden orchestra. I shook my head, shifting back onto my heels.

“Rob,” I called softly, “I need some help out here.”

Rob’s hearing did not let me down. It was very possible he was already on his way to us as he appeared within seconds of my cry for help.

“Query, what is Rafael Grayson doing here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I stood up. “I think he’s been here for days. Did you know he didn’t go home?”

“I was not aware.” Rob admitted. “I confess, I may have assumed he left.”

“I had no reason to think he’d stay.” I put my hands on my hips, staring down at the sloshed vampire. “I didn’t think we had enough wine on site to take out a vampire.”

“I suspect Rafael’s inebriated state stems from the jars of cherry syrup Faelan did not seal properly.” Rob picked one up.

“Elf hooch indeed.” I muttered. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

Rafael was attempting to stand up. Rob and I helped him to his feet but he pushed our help aside.

“I should have been a sommmmelllieerr…and not a bar…ista.” He laughed. “But I work behind a bar!”

“Rob!” The robot caught the vampire as he slumped, unable to right himself when his foot caught on a root. “We’d better take him inside. Come on, Rafael.”

“I can walk!” He declared and took one step before managing to trip over his own feet. Rob simply bent his knees, letting Rafael fall over his shoulder and stood upright, carrying him into the café.

I looked at the empty jars of fermented cherry syrup and shook my head. I dropped the one I was holding and ran in after Rob.

“Query, where shall I deposit the intoxicated vampire?”

“We’ve got the lounge room set up as a playroom for James and I’d never forgive myself if he vomited in Aunt Jo’s bed.” I ran up the stairs ahead of Rob. “Put him in my bed for tonight and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“Very well.”

I drew back the covers and Rob deposited Rafael onto the mattress. We both stared at him for a moment, each of us lost in our own confusion.

“I’d say we need to toss him into a cold shower or make him some strong coffee…but I think he probably just needs to sleep it off.” I sighed then turned to Rob. “We should get rid of those empty jars out front.”

“And any of the remaining full ones from the cellar.” Rob agreed then paused. “I am reluctant to leave you alone with a drunkard.”

“Rob, he can’t even stand upright.” I giggled softly. “Go, I’ll be fine.” As he left the room I removed Rafael’s only shoe then called out after Rob. “Try to find his other shoe, would you?” I turned back to Rafael. “Where’s your other shoe, Rafael?”

“I don’t know…”

I dropped it on the ground. “Come on, sit up…you can’t sleep in your coat.”

“I thought I was standing…” I grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him upright then dragged his coat off one sleeve at a time. It was hard not to flinch at his breath but thankfully Rafael’s rigidity meant he could sit for a few seconds so I could remove his coat. “My head…it’s spinning…”

“Lie down.” I gently pushed him back. “You’re going to feel worse before you feel better. You need sleep.” I hung his coat on one of my hooks when I heard a sniffling sound. I turned back to the bed, astonished. “Are you…crying?”

“I…never meant for it to be like this…I was so close…so close…”

“Oh dear,” I sat on the edge of the bed, one leg hooked up and gazed at him, “you’re passed the happy stage and now you’re at the miserable stage.” Rafael balled up his fists and pressed them against his eyes. It was almost disturbing to see him so emotionally undone after months of his restrained behaviour. “Hey…it’ll be alright.”

“I can’t find it. I can’t…”

“Find what? Your shoe?”

“The right blend…if I haven’t found it…”

“You’re talking about coffee?” I sagged. “Rafael, there are more things in this world to be sad about than not getting a perfect blend of coffee.” My words meant nothing to him and he began to weep unconsolably. “Hey…we’ll find it. I know we will.”

“Blood…it’s blood…” He drew his hands from his red rimmed eyes, his hooked fingers shaking.

“No, it’s just tears.” I insisted.

“On the door…it’s not water…it’s endless blood.” Rafael’s eyes locked onto mine, desperate and needy. “Please…I can’t go back. Don’t make me go back. I beg of you!”

His broken request tore at my heart. I couldn’t imagine what his life beyond the door was like.

“Hush, Rafael, ssshhhh,” I wiped at his tears, “you don’t have to go back. ‘House of Figs’ is your home.” I brushed back from of his dark shards of hair. “If you need somewhere to just…be…then be here.”

Rafael’s long fingers layered over the top of mine against his cheek, his eyes closing as though he was finally safe. He was so vulnerable, so desperate…such a far cry from the distant and antagonistic vampire that I didn’t sense any danger from him.

“Bethany,” he whispered, “I…”

His softly spoken words cause me to lean forward. As I did so, his eyes opened…the ice blue of his irises taken up almost entirely by black pupils. He was aroused and desperate not to be alone. The air evacuated my lungs in the suddenness of the alarm at our closeness. Rafael leaned closer and my heart thundered, blood hammering through my veins as his tilted his head…right before he opened his jaw wide and sank his fangs into my neck.

The pain didn’t occur for a split second and I was frozen in shock before it finally kicked it. I tore myself away, my fingers slapping over my neck and I slipped from the bed to the ground, staring up at Rafael…who looked like a spectre, reaching out for me. I wanted to scream but my voice had vanished and only a small whimper escaped.

But it was enough. Suddenly Rafael blinked and his eyes returned to normal…and then horror twisted his features into dismay and grief. He stared at me, wordless and breathless as well…

…and then he was gone, flinging himself from the room so fast that, had I blinked, I would have missed his departure.

I was oddly calm as I stood up and left my bedroom, going to the bathroom and locking the door. When I saw my expression in the mirror, however, I nearly fainted.

I looked like a vampire. I was as white as fine bone china with deep shadows beneath my eyes. The only colour to be seen, which dominated everything, was the bright red blood seeping out from between my fingers at my neck.

“Query, are you in the bathroom, Bethany St James?” Rob’s voice carried through the shut door.

“I am.” I tried to make my voice light and airy.

“Query, are you alright, Bethany St James?”

“Fine.” I squeaked.

“Query, where is Rafael?”

“He went home. I’m going to have a shower.”

“You just had…” The water and exhaust fan drowned out his words. Inexplicably I couldn’t face Rob. I couldn’t do anything except get into the shower…and try to scrub away what had happened. The heat caused my blood to flow more freely and soon it was a watered down stream from my neck splattering the glass of the shower recess and trickling down the drained. I couldn’t stop it and I didn’t dare take my hand off it. I rubbed at the red trickles, trying to obliterate them as if I could erase what had happened. Shock set in, my whole body shaking like I was enduring my own mini earthquake.

By the time the water ran cold, I was weak and weary. I turned off the water, unable to face my reflection again. My towel was still wet from my shower of barely half an hour earlier and my pjs clung to my damp skin. I had to release my neck in order to dress and I could feel the pulse of blood, trickles of it escaping the puncture holes. I draped my dressing gown over my body, my hand firmly back in place on my neck. Rob would probably be waiting outside the door. I would have to get around him somehow.

I cracked open the door and peered out. No one was there. I turned to go to my bedroom when I saw Jet leaning against the wall. He looked up.

“Bethany? Rob called and said something was wrong…”

I don’t know why I turned to run. I was nearly to the stairs when Rob appeared at the top of them. I was blocked in, shaking my head, whimpering.

“Leave me alone…”

“Query, are you bleeding, Bethany St James?”

“Please…” I sank to the floor. “Leave me alone…”

Jet knelt by my side. “Bethany, what’s wrong with your neck?”

“Nothing.”

“Bethany…”

“Please…”

Jet put his hand out and tried to remove my fingers. I was terrified. I didn’t know why but I couldn’t fathom anyone seeing what had been done to me. I was irrational and huddled my body away from him.

“Rob,” Jet looked at the robot, “first aid kit?”

“At once.”

I couldn’t meet Jet’s eyes. I was burning in shame yet I was cold to my core.

“Come on,” he urged, reaching out and I flinched away, “you’re going to freeze out here.” He helped me to rise, my hand locked over my neck and led me to my room. I stared at the bed, frozen in the doorway. Jet looked back at me. “Bethany?”

“I can’t…”

Jet looked at the bed then back at me. “Oh…want me to sit with you?” The cold had burned away my shame and I was shaking violently. I went over to a corner and sank into it, my knees braced against my chest.

“I have the first aid kit.” Rob announced from the threshold. “Query, may I enter?”

“Bethany?” Jet looked at me then at Rob. “Yes on her behalf.”

“Very well.” Rob knelt in front of me and opened the case. “Bethany St James, I need to view the wound.”

“No…”

“Bethany,” Jet said as he sat next to me, “nothing is going to change what happened…”

“I can’t…” I could feel trickles of tears running down my face, like warm drops of blood. “I…I don’t want to be a vampire. Am I going to be?” I looked at Jet. “Am I a vampire now?” Jet shook his head helplessly then turned to Rob. Rob immediately left the room. “I don’t want to be…I don’t…I can’t…”

“We’ll figure this out.”

He wasn’t the most welcoming of people. All the other guys would have offered their shoulder to lean on but Jet just sat beside me like a block of stone. But I didn’t care and I sagged against him. Jet stiffened then awkwardly put his arm up and around me.

“Did Rafael bite you?”

I blubbered incoherently, sobbing into his chest.

Rob’s footsteps re-entered the room.

“I have read Rafael’s book. Query, did you drink Rafael’s blood, Bethany St James?”

“No.” My voice was a pathetic, rasping whisper, my throat so raw that every word felt like it was glass against it.

“Then you cannot be a vampire according to the terms of transformation in his book.”

I peered at Rob. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “It is a two way covenant.”

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling anymore. Shame. Guilt. Relief. Pain. Horror…I was weak, in part from blood loss but mostly from the emotional assault upon my soul.

“Let Rob clean the wound.” Jet urged. “Here,” he held out his hand, “hold this instead.”

“I can’t…”

“Bethany, hold my hand.”

It took every ounce of strength I had to let go of my neck. Jet grasped my hand the moment it was free and didn’t let go as Rob applied disinfectant that stung and then pressed a gauze against my neck, adhering it with medical tape.

“The wounds are clean and dressed.” Rob stood up. “I will clean the bathroom.”

Jet let go of my hand and I pressed it against my neck again, feeling the texture of gauze beneath my fingers. I was in a faint daze as he helped me to rise and walked me over to the bed.

“I can’t,” I whispered, staring at it, “not on my own…I can’t…” I wanted to ask him to stay. I was desperate not to be alone but I couldn’t comprehend the question. Why…why couldn’t someone just understand me without words? Just once?

“What if I stay?” I looked at Jet, eyes wide and locked onto his brown gaze. “Will you try to get some sleep if I stay?” I nodded mutely. Jet removed his shoes and got into the bed, holding out the covers for me.

I climbed into the bed and he tucked me in, able to face me across the double bed without encroaching into each other’s sleep space. The wound on my neck faced up. Jet drew the covers up over my shoulders and neck.

“Sleep, Bethany. I’ll protect you.”