SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Jasper realized that he had swallowed without saying a word. After taking a sip of water to clear his head, he repeated, "Shepherd’s pie," into his phone and prepared to try again. He could savor the food later, he told himself, but for the moment, he had to eat a mouthful and then immediately complain that the meat was greasy, the vegetables underdone, and that there wasn’t an ounce of seasoning in the lot. He fixed that critique in his mind as he took one more bite of the shepherd’s pie—but it tasted even better than the first, and all thought of criticism vanished from his thoughts.

Time slipped by in a blissful haze. Jasper devoured the pie, his critique forgotten, and no sooner had he finished than he realized how good the colcannon and coddle smelled. He only needed a single taste to confirm that they were at least as delicious, if not more so, as the shepherd’s pie, and he gobbled them down without a second thought. It was only when he dropped his fork and stared in dismay at the empty plates in front of him that he realized that over an hour had passed…and that he hadn’t said even a single sentence for his review.

Jasper shifted in his seat, thinking that he had to be completely full, yet finding himself wondering how long it would take to order a dessert course or two. After a few moments he pushed that thought aside and tried to come up with something negative to say. "Well, that was…I mean, all in all, I thought…"

"Excuse me, sir?"

Jasper turned to see his waitress smiling down at him. She had long, dark hair and green eyes that didn’t quite seem to reflect her pleasant smile. "The chef-owner would like to speak with you. If you would please follow me?"

"Why?" Jasper asked, but the waitress was already darting away towards the back of the restaurant.

The critic hesitated for a moment. Rationally, he knew this could only mean one thing: he’d been identified, and nothing good could come from confronting the chef that he’d just tried to extort. But at the same time, the waitress was heading towards the kitchen. His stomach rumbled at the thought of obtaining samples of a few more dishes. After all, the owner had said she wanted to see him, surely the chefs would want to make him happy…

Jasper found himself hurrying after the waitress.

It was an ordinary kitchen; chefs were cooking and plating just as Jasper had seen in dozens of other restaurants, though the food smelled a hundred times better. He looked for his chef plant, Karen, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. That did annoy him; as far as he was concerned, she still owed him for hushing up that she was fired from a major steakhouse for stealing two years ago. He expected her to be in the kitchen, observing any health code violations—and creating a few of her own—and reporting the results to him. He expected—

A cook crossed the room with a pot of mashed potatoes, and as the scent wafted past his nose he was struck by such a pang of hunger that he could think of nothing else.

The waitress smiled and nodded through a large door. "Please hurry, Mr. Montgomery. We wouldn’t want to keep Mrs. Fuamnach waiting." And then, when Jasper instead found his hand slowly drifting towards the pot, she seized it in an iron grip and yanked him towards the door. "Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll have a snack for you if you’re hungry."

"What?" managed Jasper, before he was dragged out of the kitchen.

His first thought when the wind blew past his face was that the waitress had taken him into a back alley or side street. But then, as he felt the grass crunching under his feet and saw tall, dark trees pressing in on the small clearing, he realized that he couldn’t possibly still be anywhere near downtown Philadelphia. He looked over his shoulder and saw that several of the chefs had followed him, but as for the door he had taken—or the restaurant itself—there was no sign. There was only the forest.

Turning forwards again, Jasper saw two people in rough brown robes kneeling at the foot of an ornate wooden throne, upon which a tall woman with bright red hair, gray eyes, and a cruel smile was sitting. She wore a dress that seemed to shimmer and sparkle despite the sky being overcast. The waitress approached her, bowed, and then moved off to the side, no longer bothering to hide her smirk. Jasper would have demanded an explanation if not for his painfully empty stomach. "Do you have any food?" he managed.

The woman on the throne grinned. "We’ll get to that," she said. "First, it would be proper to introduce ourselves. You may know me as Fuamnach, wife of the demigod Midir. And you are the famous Jasper Montgomery, no doubt." She nodded down at the two people kneeling before her. "These two you know."

Jasper looked again and realized that it was Michael and Karen kneeling there. Threads of silk were wound around their ankles, wrists, and necks, and the lines led back to the throne. "Michael, Karen, tell me what’s going on!" Jasper demanded, but the two made no response.

"I haven’t decided to let them talk yet," said Fuamnach. "Maybe in a couple of decades…but anyways. I’m so glad we’ve met at last. I have so many servants and servitors already, but none with quite the…platform that you do." She rose to her feet and swept her dress behind her as she stepped down onto the grass. "You’ll be a big help."

"Listen, you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on—" Jasper stopped talking for a moment as Fuamnach burst into laughter, but then made himself continue. "Do you know who I am? I could ruin you! People listen to me, and I could destroy everything you have!"

"Yes," said Fuamnach. "You could. You could say anything you like about me. Or…" She snapped her fingers and the waitress stepped forwards, scattering a bag of what looked like breadcrumbs on the forest floor. "Or you could eat."

Jasper’s mouth watered as soon as the first crumb left the waitress’s hand. The scent was intoxicating, and his stomach felt emptier than it had ever been before. He had dropped to his knees and begun gobbling up the dirty crumbs before he any idea of what he was doing.

"You see?" asked Fuamnach. "I knew you didn’t want to stop me from cooking."

"You…I don’t know what you’ve done to me," yelled Jasper, around the crumbs and dirt he was cramming into his mouth, "But you have no right! You can’t do this!"

"Well, it’s true that I’m not really supposed to," drawled Fuamnach, "But let’s just say I was offered a suitable contribution to bend the rules." She pointed over Jasper’s shoulder, and the critic found himself turning to look at the chefs who had followed him. Now that he examined them more closely, they looked vaguely familiar. The first one in particular was a short man with a dour face…

It was Morelli! The man whose restaurant Jasper had last ruined was standing in the clearing, a pleased smirk on his face. Behind him were Yi, and Anderson, and a half dozen others. All of them had the same eager expressions. None showed even a hint of pity.

"You all may start your terms of service tomorrow," said Fuamnach. "For now, my handmaiden will show you out. As for you, Mr. Montgomery…" The critic found himself looking back to the woman on the throne. "You’ll be entering my service as well, though for a rather longer period. Please, do put these on." She tossed several silken threads at him. "Just like your friends, if you would."

Jasper tried to keep his face still. Between his terror and his raw, animal hunger, it was almost impossible, but he felt he managed fairly well, all things considered. Marshaling up all his anger and every bit of resistance he could muster, he yelled, "Why would I do that?"

"Because, if you do, I will pay you." Fuamnach opened her palm, though Jasper couldn’t see what she was holding from where he was kneeling. "I think you’ll find it’s a… suitable contribution of my own.'"