“I’ll… be right back,” Jenna muttered at her, embarrassed. She stepped off for the bathroom, compact in hand.
The café bathroom was cozy, done up in dark wood and lit up with soft lamps. The broad mirror over the far wall sent an uneasy shudder down Jenna’s spine. She didn’t want to look at it. More than once, she’d asked if they could just get rid of it, even though the asking inevitably got her scoffs and strange looks.
Still — she steeled her spine and raised her eyes to the mirror, ignoring the flutter of panic it always instilled in her.
A Jenna with an awful, ghostly complexion looked back at her. She hastily re-combed her hair into a better ponytail and dabbed some foundation over the dark bags beneath her eyes. Slowly, she straightened her back, forcing her posture into something a little more cheerful.
Jenna stared at herself for another long moment, fighting her way through the fear. “He’s not everywhere,” she murmured. “He’s not always watching. He can’t be.”
One of the lamps flickered uneasily. Jenna pressed her lips together and stepped back, staring at the mirror. The Jenna in the mirror simply looked scared now, and tired, and woefully alone and out of her depth… which seemed altogether too accurate.
She snapped her compact closed and ducked her way out of the bathroom, her heart beating just a little too quickly in her chest. “Stupid little phobia,” she muttered to herself.
But Jenna knew better. Phobias were by definition irrational fears. Her fear of mirrors had a very real and very rational cause.
Marie was busy with a customer when Jenna got back, so she jumped in to wipe down the espresso machines and set up a shot for the drink order that Marie called out. The mind-numbing work drove away all her lingering thoughts of old, frightening memories and reflections that refused to behave themselves.
A few hours later, and Jenna was starting to suspect that fainting on the job wasn’t entirely out of the question. No amount of concealer could fix the fact that being on her feet was making her even more lightheaded than usual. Thankfully, it was a relatively quiet night; the study group in the corner seemed to be winding down, finishing off their drinks instead of ordering new ones. She’d had a chance to get ahead of a few of the café’s daily tasks in between drinks, checking up on their stocks and posting some cheerful-looking pictures on their social media.
“Who actually follows a coffee shop feed online?” Marie asked wryly. “I work here and I don’t check it.” She had a chemistry textbook out under the counter — probably reading through her homework for classes tomorrow. Management was pretty well aware that most of their employees were poor, time-strapped students from the University of Toronto, so a little bit of class work during work hours was often allowed to slip under the radar, as long as you dropped it when the customers needed you.
“We’ve got like three followers,” Jenna said, scrolling through her phone. “One’s our boss. The other one’s a professor, I think? The last one’s probably a robot.”
“Oh, no,” Marie sighed, glancing over her shoulder. “That last one’s my mother. God bless her.”
Jenna snorted, and closed down the feed. The stack of ungraded quizzes in her bag weighed on her mind. If she could get at least half of them done before closing time, she might manage to relax some tonight — maybe even read something that wasn’t a psychology journal.
The tiny bell on the front door jingled softly, and she banished the thought. Jenna turned back toward the counter, pasting a smile over her exhaustion. “Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”
The man on the other side of the counter was tall — much too handsome and fashionable to be a professor, if you asked any of his female students. He kept his dark hair in a loose ponytail down his back; Jenna’s hair refused to grow so long, and she often envied its length. Tonight, he was wearing a faded t-shirt and jeans that had already turned a few heads in the coffee shop.
“One cappuccino, please,” he said, with a white, pristine smile. “I’m looking at a late night.”
Jenna smiled back wryly. “Dr. Cloutier,” she said. “At least I’m not the only one feeling behind the curve.”
Off to her right, Jenna saw Marie stiffen subconsciously, and take a step back. Most mortals found something instinctively uncomfortable about Adrian Cloutier after just a second in his presence. Truthfully, even Jenna had the instinct — she just knew better than to indulge it.
It was hardly his fault he was a vampire, after all.
“Have to earn that grant money somehow,” Adrian told her cheerfully. “Speaking of which — will I be seeing you in the office tomorrow?”
Jenna scrunched up her nose. “It’s on the books,” she said. “I haven’t cancelled. Why wouldn’t I be there?”
Adrian pulled out a few bills, shoving one toward her and another into the tip jar. She flushed, and did her best not to notice. “I was just thinking… you don’t look very well.” He lowered his voice on the last part, and leaned in slightly. “Are you feeling all right?”
Jenna set her jaw. “I’m fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll let you know if I’m not, I promise.”
Lord, what was with people and fussing over her lately?
Adrian held up a hand. “No implications intended,” he said. “We can always put it off if we need to, is all.”
Jenna sighed. I’m on edge around him too, she thought. Even when I try not to be. Poor guy. Her shoulders had tensed up. Her pulse was racing, screaming at her that Adrian was a predator, that he was going to tear her throat out any second. She took a deep breath, and scolded her brain into submission.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s… you know.”
Adrian’s smile turned helpless. “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
As Jenna stepped off to pull his cappuccino, Marie paused next to her, wiping down the counter. “…I really don’t like that guy,” she muttered under her breath. “And I really don’t like the way he looks at you, Jenna.”
Jenna nodded dutifully. “Like he’s going to eat me up?” she asked ironically.
Marie frowned. “Well,” she said. “Yes. Not to put too fine a point on it.”
“Well,” said Jenna. “I’m not interested. He’s way too old for me.”
Marie raised her eyebrows at too old, and Jenna covered a wince. Adrian looked about the same age as she was. She couldn’t tell Marie that he’d probably stopped aging somewhere around the turn of the century.
“Anyway,” Jenna added quickly. “Given that he’s my thesis advisor, any nibbles would be inappropriate. You can chill.”
She turned on the espresso machine, and conveniently drowned out Marie’s response with the resulting screech.
A few minutes later, Jenna took the cappuccino to Adrian’s table. He shot her a grateful look, and took a small sip.
Jenna eyed him for a moment. “…I didn’t realize you could drink coffee,” she observed quietly.
“Small amounts,” Adrian sighed. He closed his eyes in caffeinated bliss. “It’s a little unhealthy for me, if I’m being honest, but I love the taste.”
“Don’t we all,” Jenna muttered. “You’re preaching to the choir.” She glanced at the computer in front of him, and lowered her voice even further. “Good results?” she asked hopefully.
Adrian opened his eyes. There was a faint red sheen to them when he did, but he quickly gathered control of himself and forced them back to a very dark blue. “I think we’re on the right track,” he said. “It used to take me much longer to eradicate phobias, before you started helping.”
Before you started using your magic, his tone implied.
As a vampire from the Cloutier bloodline, Adrian naturally had access to hypnotic powers of suggestion. For years, he’d been experimenting with therapeutic uses for his abilities. Currently, he was focused on the elimination of phobias. Jenna had ended up in one of his classes, and discovered his nature by happy accident. There’d been a bit of a misunderstanding
at first, but when Adrian had realized she was a witch, he’d offered to join forces with her and take over as her thesis advisor, to advance their mutual, less mundane research.
Several months in, and Jenna’s initial misgivings had completely evaporated. Unnatural long life had turned Adrian into an absolute genius in his field. If there was any hope that Jenna might someday achieve her own impossible goals, she thought, it might very well lay with a man exactly like him.
“We can talk more tomorrow,” Adrian told her reassuringly.
Jenna frowned at him suddenly. “You’re looking a little pale yourself,” she accused. “You been drinking anything more than coffee lately?”
Adrian laughed sheepishly. “I’m an academic,” he admitted. “I might have lost track of time. And, um. Lunch.”
Jenna’s stomach churned uneasily. Part of her was always grossed out by the thought of Adrian’s lunch. But that didn’t change the fact that he needed it to survive. “If…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “If you need to eat…”
He glanced up at her, over the computer screen. His expression turned wary. “…are you sure?” he asked softly.
Jenna winced. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. Adrian was crucial to her goals. If he was starving, he would hardly be at his best. “It’s just giving blood,” she muttered, though her heart was pounding and her stomach felt sick. “We can call it my Good Samaritan act for the month.”
Adrian sighed. He stood up, and reached out to ruffle her hair. “You’re a good kid, Jen,” he said.
Jen.
The name made her choke for a second. The memory of it mixed with the feeling of paranoia Adrian often inspired in her.
You can’t call me that, she wanted to hiss at him. No one calls me that.
“Hey!” Marie’s voice cut sharply through the cafe. A second later, she was dragging Jenna by the arm, hauling her back from Adrian and subtly interposing herself between them.
Jenna blinked. The fear and anger and misery inside her lessened at the interruption.
Adrian raised an eyebrow at Marie. She stared him down with narrowed eyes. “Sorry?” he said. “Did I do something?”
Marie pressed her lips together. “No,” she said shortly. “I just… need Jenna behind the counter.”
She turned on her heel, dragging Jenna behind her.
“Marie,” Jenna said warningly. “That wasn’t super polite.”
“Screw polite,” Marie snapped back at her. “I’m telling you, Jenna, I don’t like him. I know you know what I’m talking about, and I wish you’d listen to your own instincts.”
Jenna clenched her teeth. “Not all instincts are healthy or true,” she said. “If I always followed my instincts, you’d be sweeping up the pieces of that bathroom mirror before closing time.”
“You’re fooling yourself,” Marie said, as they came back around the counter. “I don’t know why you’re doing it. I only hope you come back to your senses before it’s too late.”
Jenna pulled away from her coworker. She snatched up her bag, and pulled out a pile of papers. “Go worry wort over on the other side, why don’t you,” she said. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, Marie. And I’ve got papers to grade.”
Marie frowned. Jenna knew that unsettled look in her coworker’s eyes was genuine. She also knew that some part of her agreed with it, deep down.
I can’t afford to be scared of Adrian, Jenna told herself, steadying her breathing as she settled back into a chair behind the counter. I need him.
The fear in her throat refused to disappear, however, until Adrian had left the cafe.
Jenna’s fever still hadn’t broken by closing time. She spent the last hour of her shift reading and rereading the same line from a student’s short-answer test before it occurred to her that she should have been minding the register.
“Damn it,” she muttered, shoving the paper back into her bag. “Damn it, damn it, damn it—”
Marie was at the register, handling things without complaint. Because of course she was. Jenna’s coworker smiled at their last customer as he ducked out the door, and headed over to turn the lock.
“Why didn’t you poke me or something?” Jenna demanded.
“You looked like you needed a second,” Marie sniffed. “Go home, Jenna. You look like hell. It’s not going to kill me to close up.”
Jenna gaped at her. Anger burned in her chest. I’m not helpless! she wanted to yell. I’m older than you, stop treating me like a child!
But it wasn’t the first time someone had infantilized her. It wouldn’t be the last time, either.
I’m trained in cognitive psychology, god damn it, Jenna thought fiercely. If I can’t keep it together, I deserve to be babied.
She took a long, deep breath. Counted to ten. Let it out again.
Calm down my body. Turn the situation around. If Marie was sick, I’d tell her the same thing. And she’d tell me… what?
“Marie,” Jenna said slowly. “Thank you. I know you mean well. And that’s super generous of you. But I need to feel like an adult, no matter how sick I get. Helping you close up would make me feel better, even if it’s hard on me physically. Can you understand that?”
Marie glanced over, surprised. Her face softened a bit. “Oh,” she said. “I… guess I can see that. I just get worried, Jenna. You know I don’t mind helping out a little more, right? It’s not your fault you got sick. It just seems so unfair to you, especially when you’re doing all this because you want to help people.”
Jenna looked down at her bag. Her eyes burned with tears for some reason. “I’ve had people try to help me out before,” she said. “I think I get… selfish, Marie. It’s too easy for me to keep leaning harder and harder. I don’t want to lose perspective and become a burden.”
A memory floated to the surface of her mind, unprompted and unwanted.
A warm, comforting hand on hers. Gentle fingers smoothing back her hair. “It’s okay,” Gabe whispered. “I’ve got you, Jen.”
“Hey.” Marie was in front of her, tugging her chin upward. Concern flickered over her features. Jenna realized she’d begun to sniffle. “Oh, Jenna.” Marie pulled her in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I promise, I’ll try to ease back a little bit, okay?”
Jenna blinked quickly. She returned the hug, in spite of herself. “It’s not you,” she said. “I’m just… there’s someone I’m kind of missing, I guess.”
Marie pulled back, smiling sympathetically. “The past is only useful as a lesson toward the future,” she quoted. “I’m pretty sure you told me that when I was sobbing over my shitty test score.”
Jenna reached up beneath her glasses to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah,” she said thickly. “I was feeling super nihilistic that day. But I guess it’s not bad advice.”
Marie patted her back, and helped her up to her feet. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll get the dishes if you get the register.”
They managed to get the place closed down in a little under half an hour, in spite of Jenna’s sickness. The cool night air was a refreshing balm against her fever — she basked in it as she walked for the metro with Marie. The nice breeze disappeared as they headed underground, though, and she sighed in resignation.
“I’m in the other direction,” Marie said, as they passed the turnstiles. “You’re on shift with me tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” said Jenna. “I’ll see you after my thesis meeting.”
Marie’s face soured at that, but she didn’t bring up her distaste for Adrian again. “See you then,” she said reluctantly.
Jenna watched her disappear down the metro stairs. Slowly, she turned for the set of stairs on the other side of the station.
Her body ached, now that the breeze was gone. Jenna thought of the papers still ungraded inside her bag. No fiction for you tonight, she thought glumly. Oh well.
The metro pulled in just as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Jenna picked
up her pace to reach it before the doors could close.
This time of night, the cars were mostly empty. She snagged a wide-open seat, leaning her forehead against the metro window. The cool glass felt nearly as good against her skin as the breeze had done.
A strange feeling gently pinged against her senses, though. She frowned and opened her eyes, glancing around the car.
Something moved, just at the edge of her vision. Jenna turned — and caught sight of her own reflection, staring back at her from another metro window.
Her heart thumped harder in her chest.
“He’s not everywhere,” she whispered. She repeated the mantra, forcing the logic against her fears. “He’s not always watching. He can’t be.”
Had her reflection really just rippled slightly, or was her panicked mind just playing tricks on her?
“Arriving at Dufferin. Dufferin Station.” The Toronto transit’s usual female voice filtered over the metro speakers, breaking Jenna out of her trance.
She surged unsteadily to her feet, scrambling for the metro doors.
The cool air outside was less reassuring this time. Jenna’s breath came more quickly. Her head felt dizzy.
By the time she made it to her apartment door, her hands were shaking on the keys. She opened the door, but paused before stepping in, feeling paranoid.
Jenna opened her Witchsight on the wards that kept her home safe, inspecting them for any sign of tampering. What she saw was more metaphor than literal — a mixture of impressions and feelings, transformed into something vaguely visual. A shimmering curtain of light veiled the threshold between the apartment building’s hallway and the space past the door that could be properly called her home. To her, the light felt welcoming, familiar — it was her own magic, after all. Any other supernatural creature would find it subtly uncomfortable. Someone who tried to enter without first securing her permission would find themselves battered by maddened thoughts, forced into a psychological dissociation she’d crafted into the wards herself.
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