"Are you alright, Mistress?"
Was the first thing Jenkins asked when Cassandra returned to the kitchen from getting dressed, concern shone in his eyes. Her long black dress had a slight blue sheen to it and three-quarter sleeves, she liked it because the corset that particular dress actually made her look as though she had come cleavage rather than her usual flat chested appearance; she'd always been a little self-conscious of that.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. I've just been driven by excitement and a little bit of fear the last few days but I think that's starting to wear off and now I'm just tired."
She sat down opposite him at the round kitchen table, he'd cleaned everything up from his breakfast, the place was practically spotless; it's nice to have a tidy man around the house. Galahad looked at her with such care, he'd truly meant it when he'd declared himself her protector.
"I apologise for scaring you last night, Mistress, however, we needed to have not only a physical bond but a mental one as well. That mental bond came from your dream."
I have so much to learn, muttered the redhead's mind as she just looked at her familiar.
"You could have just introduced yourself, Mister Jenkins." She told him with a gentle curve to her lips. Jenkins shook his head.
"No, I couldn't have, Mistress. Originals are not pets, we're... companions and protectors but because of our other form we can be frightening, look dangerous and savage to others, but you must trust me entirely. And you do." Cassandra tilted her head a little, Galahad seemed to enjoy his long explanations and frankly she liked listening to his voice. "Out in the dark woods being circled by an unknown creature that might have lunged at any moment, what did you feel?"
Cassandra paused and found herself smiling.
"Safe," she told him honestly. "I felt safe, Galahad."
"Good. That is all any Original wants of their master or mistress."
"If that's all you want from me I think I can manage that." She rose to her feet to put out the fire and could hear people going about their morning. "I was told to take a few days for us to get used to one another, but now I'm thinking that if you are a man-" He cut her off with a grin and a sparkle in his green-hazel eyes.
"I assure you I am."
Cassandra couldn't help but chuckle at that, most of the people she'd grown up with didn't have a very good sense of humour, sins and all that, but when it came to Galahad Jenkins she could tell he was going to be all sarcasm and quips. She continued.
"... a man all the time then we'll need to introduce you to Salem, otherwise tongues will wag about the doctor's daughter suddenly living with handsome older gentleman who is not her husband."
"Well," He stood as well and only then craning her neck to look at him did she realise just how tall he really was. "we wouldn't want to start a scandal now would we?"
"I think not. In fact, while we are out I'll get some cloth from the market and make you some better fitting clothes, a coat too."
"I can remain in my wolf form if it would be easier for you, Mistress." He offered but Cassandra was wholeheartedly against that idea.
"No, I like having you to talk to and if anyone were to see you as a wolf they'd likely try to kill you. I don't want that... and I like sewing."
She could feel his eyes on her as she went to the door to get her cloak and bonnet from the peg and slipped them both on. She'd felt men's eyes on her before but where they had made her uncomfortable Jenkins' snuggled around her like an eternal protection. Once she was ready he offered her his arm which she quickly accepted and strode off to the market as though they belonged. Cassandra wasn't stupid she knew just about everyone they walked past quickly got to judging Jenkins and herself, it was in their hypocritical nature. Cassandra tried not to notice though, she only released her his arm to look through the cloth options set out before her, most was thick and either black or white – standard for the Puritans of Salem – but there were some other, more interesting spools of cloth blues and deep reds. Such cloth wouldn't be right for Jenkins' clothes though so she quickly set them down and only bought what she needed.
When Cassandra turned to link her arm with his she found him gone. Her cerulean orbs flashed around in search of him, I'd have thought it would have been easy to spot the tallest man in Salem. Eventually she came across Jenkins between two stalls on the opposite side of the street, he'd squatted down beside a young girl covered in dirt who could have been no more than nine. The child was underfed and clearly came from Knocker's Hole, possibly one of the prostitute's children. Cassandra didn't mean to stare, she just found herself watching the display before her, no one seemed to care or even notice the little blonde girl but Jenkins noticed. He smiled and said something the redhead couldn't hear over the crowded street but it must have been funny because the child grinned. From his pocket Jenkins pulled a shiny red apple and handed it to the blonde and for a moment Cassandra was confused, that certainly hadn't been there when she'd given him the clothes. I'm being stupid, he's a magical being. Of course he'd used magic, subtle but it was there, subtle and done out of the goodness of his heart. In that moment Cassandra knew she couldn't have wished for a better familiar. She could understand why her father had been so close to Nathaniel. Wait! Did Father have to kiss Nathaniel like I did with Galahad. The redhead set that thought aside when Jenkins rose to his full height and tucked a stray strand of oily blonde hair behind the little girl's ear. The little girl beamed up at the wolf before charging off towards Knocker's Hole with her ruby red apple. Cassandra could only smile as he returned to her side.
"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, Miss Cillian."
She'd not heard him use her name before he just called her mistress but she supposed it was because they were in public, she liked the way his voice made her name sound though, couldn't wait for him to use her given name.
"It's quite alright, Mister Jenkins. It was very kind of you to give her something to eat."
"It was the least I could do, she was hungry." He replied as though it were nothing.
Jenkins wasn't like anyone she'd ever met before. So many people had just walked past the little girl and most would have demanded she pay for the apple, Jenkins might have seen the gesture as simple and small but Cassandra knew it had great meaning and importance to herself and that little girl. Her wolf was a good man.
The redhead opened her mouth but it fell shut again when she saw Theophil Hale quickly approaching with one of those dangerous glints in his grey eyes. Cassandra took Jenkins' arm.
"Stay close?"
"Always." She could tell that was a promise.
When Hale came to a halt beside them Cassandra almost burst out laughing, Jenkins dwarfed the man. Theophil Hale had taken over as Salem's Magistrate after the death of Accolon Le Fey and liked to lord his power over just about everyone he came into contact with. Though younger than Galahad at around fifty-five the years hadn't been kind to him, deep wrinkles around his eyes and yellowing had started to take over the corner of his eyes; Galahad is more handsome . Theophil drug his eyes over Cassandra's young body lecherously and it made her skin crawl.
"Good day, Miss Cillian." Greeted the Magistrate with hunger in his eyes. "And to you Mister?"
"Jenkins. Galahad Jenkins."
The Magistrate nodded to himself a little, clearly he didn't like the familiar.
"Theophil Hale, a pleasure. What brings you to our little Salem? And to young Miss Cillian here?"
He asked conversationally but Jenkins wasn't stupid he knew he was being interrogated, and Cassandra knew exactly why. He'd been after her since the age of fourteen but her father had shut down the Magistrate at every attempt. Robert Cillian was gone now though and no one stood between Cassandra and Theophil; no one except her wolf.
"Mister Jenkins was a friend of my late father," She lied smoothly. "they trained together and were good friends."
"I live in the Carolinas but once I heard about Robert's death I wanted to come and pay my respects and to help Miss Cillian through this awful time." Jenkins used a tone that Cassandra suspected could make a man dying of thrust give up his last drop of water.
"And you didn't bring your wife and children?"
Jenkins raised a single eyebrow. Could this man be any more transparent? How has the Mistress not accidentally murdered him?
"Unfortunately I have none, I've never been blessed with marriage or a family." Cassandra's heart twinged at that.
Sensing he wasn't going to get much more information from Cassandra and her wolf Theophil brought the conversation to an awkward end left them be; the redhead felt herself let out a sigh of relief. Jenkins didn't say a word as they continued through the market, just let her brush the incident aside and go back to shopping.
When they got back to Cassandra's home she set about gathering her sewing things and a tape measure then had her wolf stand with his arms out. She fluttered around him measuring just about every single inch of him.
"Well," she began from her knees, the measuring tape held up against his leg. "I knew you were tall but from this I'd say you were about six-foot-five, that's unheard of in Salem.
"You say that as though it were a triumph." He told her.
"It is. There's a shelf in the kitchen I can never reach, I'll have to make use of that height." Jenkins chuckled. "Hold your arms out for me?"
Jenkins obeyed without a word and Cassandra stood up to measure his arms; here was something almost domestic about the action.
"I've been wondering," said Cassandra. "are all Originals wolves? If so, how do you tell one another apart?"
Jenkins liked his Mistress' curiosity, few of his past masters had ever shown such interest in who and what he was.
"No, not all of us are wolves, in fact we can be just about any creature from the largest bear to the smallest mouse." He replied.
"Do you know what Nathaniel was? I'm assuming he was my father's familiar considering how close they were and my father's letter." Done with her measuring she set to cutting out the sections of fabric.
"He was, yes. Had been since Robert was a child."
"You knew Nathaniel?" She asked curiously.
The white-haired man shook his head. "No, regrettably not." He slipped into that explanation tone of his. "Familiars are naturally protective so can end up being aggressive towards other familiars and their witches. When we shared our blood I got a sense of other witches that you share your blood with, your father, and along with him I got a sense of Nathaniel. It's a method of counteracting our nature and preventing unneeded aggression."
"That sounds more like science than magic."
"Maybe they're one in the same. And to answer your question he was a fox."
Cassandra's lips turned upwards as she set her scissors down.
"That seems fitting." Nathaniel had always preferred to remain inconspicuous and cunning. "There was something else I couldn't help but wonder about." She told him a little awkwardly. "Did my father have to kiss Nathaniel?"
It wasn't that she was overly offended or repulsed by that idea, it was more that she wanted to know if it was something that always happened at the start of a bond between familiar and witch or if he'd had alterer motives.
"Yes. It's just the way the bond is done, has been for as long as Originals and Witches have existed." His lack of further elaboration suggested he didn't know why and had never really questioned it. "Are you alright, Mistress?"
She was stood looking at the fabric cut outs and sighed.
"This is going to take ages for me to sew, you're so tall." She turned to lean against the wooden table. "Is everyone in your family like that?"
Jenkins paused. "I have no family." Cassandra's heart dropped.
"Really? No parents? No siblings?"
"I wasn't born so no. Familiars just... come into existence, it's one of those questions no one seems to have an answer to and I'm not especially interested in why. I know my reason for living so why is the how important?"
"Isn't that lonely though?" She asked softly. "To have no one?"
There was another pause where Jenkins refused to look at her, there was sadness in his eyes and then suddenly it was gone, his eyes met hers. She just wanted to cuddle him in that moment.
"I have you, Mistress."
Cassandra's heart twinged. Not only was he bound to protect her but actually cared about Cassandra. She'd worried him acting as her caretaker had just been an obligation but now she could see he actually wanted to be there, actually be by her side.
"Yes you do." She confirmed with a gentle smile.
"You could use magic to finish all this faster if you'd prefer."
Jenkins was changing the subject, that was utterly obvious but Cassandra didn't call him out on it, she wouldn't force him to continue on with a conversation that clearly upset him. Instead, she let him pick up the fabric cut outs and act as though half of their conversation hadn't happened.
"I don't know how, don't know any spells." She told him honestly.
Jenkins breathed out a laugh. "You might not need one. True Witches are more powerful than the Soulless. Magic is emotion so for simple tasks you wouldn't need a spell. Here." He rested his large hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him and away from the table. "Close your eyes." She quickly obeyed. "Imagine the thread unspooling and working its way into the cloth, joining it together. Breathe deep. Can you see it, Mistress?" His voice was so gentle and Cassandra could feel his breath on her skin.
"Yes." She answered in a whisper.
"How do you feel?"
"... Content."
"Good, focus on that. Many overlook it but content is an emotion. Don't let your mind turn from the cloth for a second."
Jenkins went quiet after that and just let Cassandra concentrate, he didn't remove his hands though and the warmth she got from him helped to continue her content feeling. She took deep breaths and felt a tingle in her heart that soon spread out through her blood stream, there was something both powerful and daunting about it but not a single ounce of fear.
"Open your eyes, Mistress."
Cerulean orbs fluttered open as Jenkins removed his hands, on the table was a stack of shirts, a coat and everything else a Puritan gentleman would have needed, everything was rumpled but looked well made.
"I did it!" She beamed and jumped to hug him tight, arms around his neck and a huge smile on her face.
"You did, Mistress."
Jenkins didn't know how to react for a moment, he wasn't used to being hugged, but he didn't resist the redhead. After a moment of awkwardness the familiar snaked his arms around her waist. She smelt of roses. Just as quickly as she'd latched onto him she was gone, back to a respectable distance but she continued to beam.
"I just hope they still fit. Go and try them on?"
"Of course, thank you."
"Just leave my father's things on my bed."
Her wolf nodded then vanished off upstairs with an arm full of clothing. She made quick work of cleaning away her sewing things and then found herself drawn towards her father's study. It was a mess, always had been, Robert Cillian hadn't ever been known for his ability to clean up after himself. The doctor was gone now though. Cassandra refused to cry, instead, she started to gather up his mass of books.
