Blurb：
In the rain-drenched midnight of Haven Food Truck Park, Thalia runs The Gilded Spoon, a sanctuary for the city's lost souls. But when her young customer Felix stumbles upon a severed leg in a garbage bag, a dark secret is unearthed. Thalia's calm demeanor hides a predatory glow in her eyes, revealing she is more than a food truck owner. With police detective Miller investigating, and her supernatural companions Malachi and Astrid emerging from the shadows, Thalia must navigate a world where human remains are off-limits, yet ancient hungers stir. A gritty urban fantasy where a mac and cheese meal can lead to salvation or damnation.Content：
§01The sound that pulled Thalia from her end-of-night ritual was wet and wretched.
A desperate, retching cough that cut through the steady drumming of rain on her food truck’s metal roof.
She paused, cloth in hand, the scent of bleach and grilled onions momentarily forgotten.
The Haven Food Truck Park was a ghost town after midnight, a collection of steel shells sleeping under the sickly orange glow of the city sky.
Only her truck, The Gilded Spoon, remained open, a lone beacon for the city’s insomniacs and lost souls.
The sound came again, closer this time, from the alleyway that separated the park from the brick behemoth of a derelict warehouse.
Thalia placed the cleaning cloth on the stainless-steel counter, her movements unhurried.
She stepped out into the rain, the drizzle doing little to disturb her.
The alley stank of damp garbage and urban decay.
And there, kneeling on the slick asphalt, was the kid.
Felix.
The one who, just an hour ago, had devoured a bowl of her mac and cheese with the reverence of a starving man finding salvation.
His shoulders heaved, another wave of sickness wracking his thin frame.
His gaze was fixed on a split-open garbage bag beside him.
From the tear in the black plastic, something pale and horribly human protruded.
A woman’s lower leg, slender and lifeless.
The toes were tipped with chipped, crimson polish, still attached to a cheap sandal.
Felix let out a choked sob and vomited again.
Thalia watched, her expression unreadable.
The shadows around her feet seemed to deepen, twisting into shapes that didn't belong in the world of light and rain.
She took a step forward.
"You should have gone home, Felix," she said, her voice calm amidst the squall.
The young man flinched, scrambling backward until his back hit the cold, wet brick of the warehouse wall.
He looked up, his eyes wide with terror, not at the severed limb, but at her.
At the woman standing in the rain, perfectly still.
At the faint, predatory, green-teal light that was beginning to glow in her eyes.
§02
The sterile, coffee-stained air of the precinct faded behind her, replaced by the damp morning chill that promised more rain.
Thalia’s mind wasn't on the police report she'd just signed, but on the faint, unnatural energy she'd felt clinging to the young man, Felix.
The police had been surprisingly efficient.
A Detective Miller, a man whose weary face seemed carved from old leather, had asked the questions.
"You found him here?"
"I heard him being sick. Came to check."
"Know the kid?"
"He's a customer. Comes in sometimes."
"And you didn't see anything else? Anyone dumping a bag?"
"I was inside my truck, cleaning up for the night."
Miller had grunted, his eyes scanning her, trying to find a crack in her composure.
He found none.
They had taken her statement, along with a week’s worth of security footage from the camera mounted on her truck.
She knew they wouldn't find anything.
Her truck’s memory card had a habit of conveniently corrupting footage when necessary.
Back in her small apartment above a closed-down bookstore, the shadows in the room coalesced.
Two figures emerged from the gloom.
One was a handsome man in archaic, flowing robes, a pair of small, curved horns nestled in his dark hair.
This was Malachi.
"So? Fresh meat?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "You didn't even save me a bite."
The other figure was a tall, aloof woman with hair like spun silver and horns that resembled polished antlers.
Astrid.
"Cease your incessant prattling, you overgrown stomach," she said, her tone as crisp as winter ice. "It was human remains. Off-limits."
Malachi scoffed, throwing himself onto her sofa. "You’re no fun. First, you tell me the city is a buffet. Then you put up a ‘No Eating the Locals’ sign. It’s false advertising."
Thalia ignored them, moving to her small kitchen. "He saw my eyes."
The bickering stopped.
Astrid glided over, her silver eyes filled with concern. "You were careless."
"He was terrified," Thalia corrected, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge. "And he was wearing a ward. Faint, but there."
Malachi sat up, sniffing the air as if he could still catch the scent. "A ward? What kind?"
"I don't know yet," Thalia said, cracking eggs into a hot pan. "But it was enough to hold a sliver of the memory. He asked me if I saw a monster with green eyes."
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