“Did you go to college?” He looked awful young to have been a doctor in his human life, older than Crimson, but young nonetheless, in his early twenties.
Alcander glanced up with his eyes, though his head stayed down. A faint smile flitted across his lips. “That is generally how one attains a doctorate, is it not?”
“I didn’t know if you guys had like… some sort of supernatural school of medicine or something.”
“Ah, yes,” said Alcander. “Good old SSM.” This one had a sense of humor too. He wondered if they all did. “I went to Harvard. Early admission.” Alcander took a measured sip of his coffee. “Did you go to school?”
“I graduated when I was fifteen,” said Jasper, though he wasn’t sure Al would consider the program he had graduated from to bear any resemblance to actual school. “From high school, I mean.”
Maybe he imagined it, but for the briefest of moments it seemed the vampire looked relieved.
“Me too,” he said after a moment.
That would explain the medical degree, Jasper supposed, but not why the werespider was so fiercely protective of him. The waitress was back with his food before he could inquire further. Now that it was set in front of him, it seemed like an extravagant amount for one person. The grilled cheese was two layers high, the fries beside it heaped in a ridiculous mound. He picked at it tentatively while Alcander drank his coffee and stared out the window.
It was nice to finally have a little silence, but he was still almost grateful when the bell above the door jingled, and Crimson came strolling into the diner. As before, there was no evidence of his crime anywhere on his person, but there was a noticeable difference—a fullness in his lips and softness in his face, his complexion now slightly darker, as if the flush of blood underneath had also refreshed his melanin.
“Hey, tall an’ good-lookin’, you ’bout done?”
A lot of food was still left on the platter, but Jasper started to rise anyway. He didn’t want to be anywhere near here when the werespider’s victim was noticed missing. He’d already covered for the demon once during an interrogation and decided never to have to relive that experience again. “I’ll ask for a to-go box.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Crimson dropped into the booth across from him, his arm slung up over the back. “No rush.”
Jasper hesitantly sat back down. He was surprised to see the waitress again, already right by the table, her smile extra-bright and her professional demeanor suddenly giddy.
“Hey there.” She spoke directly to Crimson, not so much as glancing at either of the others. “Can I getcha anything?”
“A large cup of the house blend to go, and the bill, please.”
“Sure thing, sug,” replied the woman. Again, Jasper might have imagined it, but he was pretty sure the werespider’s eye twitched a little.
“You wanna take a picture?” asked Crimson when the waitress had gone. “It won’t actually last longer, but I wager it might be a whole lot more convenient for me.”
“What?”
“Well, cuz then you could leer at it instead,” explained the werespider in a faux-earnest voice. “And it’ll be just about as likely to transform into the actual devil.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Jasper returned his gaze quickly to his food. “Whatever, I wasn’t leering.”
“I dunno. Seemed pretty leery to me. Whaddya think, Al?”
“I think you need not go so far out of your way to push his buttons,” replied Alcander, tersely but not rudely.
Since Jasper was so determined to look anywhere but the werespider, he couldn’t see his reaction, but he heard it in a soft chuckle, and for the rest of the meal Crimson was hardly obnoxious at all. He even grabbed the bill when it came around. After staring at the numbers on the receipt for exactly no time at all, he dropped a handful of wadded cash in the center of the table, then set the check facedown on top of it.
“What are you doing?” Jasper asked.
Crimson’s eyes went from him to the pile of money, back to him. “Is it not enough?”
“There’s like a hundred bucks here.”
“So… too little? Too much?”
Jasper peeked at the check. The total came to just under twenty dollars. The waitress had jotted her name and number down in the margin. The i’s in Trixie were both dotted with hearts, and she had drawn a little winkie face after her name. Jasper’s eyes rolled before he could stop them. “Jesus Christ, dude. That’s like an eighty-dollar tip.”
“Which is…?” He looked towards Alcander.
“Too much,” supplied Alcander. “You should leave three dollars and ninety-nine cents in addition to the nineteen ninety-five that was the initial cost, for a total of twenty-three ninety-four.”
“Well, you don’t have to be that weirdly specific about it,” said Jasper. He straightened out a few of the bills and saw that he was wrong. It was more than a hundred dollars. One of the bills was a fifty. “I mean, twenty-four bucks would be alright.”
Crimson looked at the pile of cash as if it were the bane of his existence, then shook his head and climbed out of the booth. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not my money.” The implication had the cash out of Jasper’s hand immediately. “She can have it,” continued Crimson, starting towards the front of the diner. “Buy herself a new pair of shoes. You two comin’ or what?”
“Yeah,” said Jasper.
Trixie reemerged into the dining room as they were making their exit. He hadn’t noticed before, but she was wearing a ratty pair of sneakers with holes near the toes. The sole was starting to come off the back of one heel.
Outside, he looked curiously at Crimson.
“See, you’re doin’ it again,” accused the werespider almost immediately, but this time Jasper recognized the comment for what it was. No more or less than a playful tease.
“I wasn’t leering,” said Jasper, and this time it was the truth.
#
It was midafternoon when they arrived in Miami. Jasper was driving, which, considering the traffic, was probably for the best. Jasper liked the Jag and didn’t want to leave it in the middle of the street, where someone else would most definitely take it. It would be hard enough to give it back to the rental agency, but the New York plates stuck out this far south, and though Jazz didn’t think Crimson’s family would actually follow them down here, he guessed they shouldn’t help them along. Maybe the next car they got could have satellite radio.
They moved forward a few feet. It was hard to gauge the city through the windshield of the car, but it looked alright to Jasper. The sky was a clear, bright blue, and he even caught a few glimpses of the ocean between glass buildings. The windows were down, letting in the smell of salt breeze, exhaust, and wet, and letting out the cold air-conditioning. It was hot, hotter than Jasper had anticipated, but he’d take heat and humidity over cold any day. “So where should I head?”
“The fuck if I know,” said Crimson. He was sitting low in his seat, his dark sunglasses covering his eyes. The sun glared back at him through the gaps in the skyline, and he flipped his visor down for extra protection. “Just pick a hotel.”
“Do you really not have a place to stay?”
“Says the kid who begged to live with me.”
“I did not beg,” argued Jasper. He would have said more if the subject were not so dangerous. He turned back to a safer one. “What’s our budget?” Jasper had just under two thousand dollars with him, in cash. The bills were spread about his person: in his wallet, of course, and hidden in different parts of his backpack, rolled up into balls of socks, and even tucked underneath the soles of his boots. He also had a credit card, just in case, stuck behind his fake driver’s license.
Since he was supposed to be a down-on-his-luck mercenary, he didn’t flash his funds around, but in their travels Jasper realized Crimson’s grasp on things as unimportant as money was very weak. This was probably a side effect that came with stealing everything, but he didn’t even remem
ber to take the change when Jasper gave him money to actually purchase cigarettes. Alcander, he thought, would take more notice.
They didn’t know how long they were going to be here, and Jasper was worried if they weren’t careful, they’d run out of money. Crimson could just flash his eyes and his charming smile and get them a room, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Ask Al. He’s the millionaire.”
“Al lives in an abandoned factory,” Jasper pointed out doubtfully.
“He lives under it. Very important distinction.” That didn’t seem any better to Jasper. “There’s some space there, pull up, pull up. Gods, you’re an awful driver. This is literally killin’ me.”
“Are you, like, actually a millionaire, Al?” Jasper was sure this was another one of Crimson’s overexaggerations.
“In a manner of speaking,” Al replied. “I have many skills that companies are more than happy to pay me for and quite a lot of time on my hands. Do not worry about the hotel; money really is not a concern. Just please make sure it is clean and quiet and not too heavily populated. If you can see if they—”
Crimson threw his hands up dramatically. “Shut up, Al! I do not want the last thing I hear to be your obsessive-compulsive bullshit.”
“You’re not dying, Crimson,” Jasper said. In front of them a car pulled forward, revealing the opening to a vacant side street. “We’re almost there.” Jasper didn’t know where it led. He took it anyway.
#
The hotel was larger than the last they’d stayed at. Alcander had a bank card under a false name, and a false ID to match, but he was waiting for Crimson, who was distracted by a small bridal party that was taking pictures in the lobby. After the long drive, Jasper didn’t feel like waiting for him to (a) get tired of flirting with the bride or (b) get punched by the groom. “Here. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” said Al, letting Jasper take the card, careful that their fingers did not touch. They checked in under the name of “Andrews.” Alcander signed all the paperwork, and the woman at the desk gave them their keys.
After the hours and hours spent in the car, the very idea of a bed was almost too good to be true. Jasper barely looked at the room before striding over to the closest bed, dropping his backpack by the foot of it, and throwing himself down onto its white puffy bedspread, boots and all. He’d slept a little on the ride down but realized now it was not enough.
His jacket had come off several states ago and had been shoved into his backpack when the heat became too much for the leather, and he reluctantly sat up now to take off his boots. The AC was on and the room was cool. “I’m gonna take a nap,” he said, peeling back the top layer of blankets. “Wake me up in an hour.”
Chapter Eleven
—
The Summerlands
“Hey, get up.” Jasper woke to Crimson shaking his shoulder. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Late for what?” Jasper yawned. Crimson was still shaking his shoulder, and he reached with one arm to push him away.
“For the festival,” explained Crimson.
This explained nothing. There had been no mention of a festival. He’d asked Crimson if he had plans a dozen times on the way down. He yawned again, rubbed his eyes, and blinked slowly. “What’s going on? Are you a dream or something?”
Crimson arched an eyebrow. “I knew you dreamed about me, Jazz.”
“I meant to say nightmare,” Jasper corrected himself. His eyes were still groggy with sleep.
Crimson gave his shoulder another shake.
“Quit it.” Jasper reached past the werespider to pick up the clock on the nightstand and get a better look at the numbers. It was just after eleven p.m. He couldn’t believe he’d slept for so long. “What festival are you talking about?”
“Well, you know… the one I, uh…” He paused, thinking, then, “Oh yeah, the one I decided not to tell you about. Hmm… Well, I changed my mind. The Summer Solstice Tour will definitely be much better with you than with Al.”
Jasper had no idea what the Summer Solstice Tour was, but he reckoned that since he had never heard of it, it was probably his job to investigate. That was why he was with Crimson in the first place, after all. Let the demon run to every hidey-hole and secret safe house in Miami.
“Give me a second to get dressed and, like, take a shower.” He was still dressed in the clothes he fell asleep in, but he’d worn them in the car all day and had been looking forward to a long shower when he woke up. Considering Crimson’s hurried manner, he settled for a quick five minutes. He didn’t know what to wear, but Crimson was just wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his jacket held over one shoulder with a careless finger, so Jasper figured the faded Zeppelin shirt and his regular jeans were fine. His own leather jacket was necessary to hide his pistol and to act as armor against any attacks that might come. Then they were out the door, hand raised in a brief farewell to Alcander.
The night was humid, but without the sun beating down, it didn’t feel so bad. “What happens if we’re late?”
“We don’t get to go,” said Crimson with a shrug. He was swinging his pocket watch at his side from its thin silver chain, the circles loose and fast. “I think we’ll make it though.”
Jasper had given up on being answered in anything but vagaries. He decided that whatever this tour thing was, it couldn’t be worse than Ivory, whom he also hadn’t bothered to tell him about. At least he hadn’t just slipped away while he wasn’t paying attention.
Yet.
As they moved through the streets, the number of pedestrians around them began to multiply. Many of them were dressed conspicuously in colorful shawls and long sweeping robes, bejeweled on their hands and necks and ears. A small woman with a black cat curled around her shoulders jogged past them, calling back to the man behind her that they needed to hurry because they were going to be late.
He was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling. Not the sort that would indicate demon activity, but more of an uneasy sensation of disquiet. His heart was racing, and cold sweat prickled at his temples, his hands clammy. It felt like a small wild animal scrambling around in the back of his mind, desperate to escape. His first instinct was to turn around and run in the other direction, but, not wanting to be left behind, he persisted on, through a pair of open copper gates, long gone green from the elements, and up a long stepping-stone path, now very congested.
“I feel kind of weird,” he told Crimson.
The werespider waved it away. “It’s just part of the glamor. Keeps the normals from accidentally wandering in with the rest of the crowd. It’ll let up when we get inside.”
The path led to a large house, three stories tall with a balcony that overlooked the sea. The scent of salt and burning spice was thick in the air. They mounted the stone steps and passed through the archway.
The interior of the building was one great silver circuit, with thick black arches situated at the compass points. They stretched overhead to unite at a great square clock that hung at their heart like a lantern. There must have been well over two hundred people packed in the room, and more kept rushing in, pushing those already assembled into a claustrophobic lump. Jasper was corralled along with the rest. As the flow of people pushed and jostled them as close to the center of the room as they could, he reached out and grabbed Crimson’s wrist. “Don’t ditch me again.”
“No promises,” said Crimson, and Jasper scowled at him. “Okay, so, crash course, when that clock up there strikes midnight, the festival will be here, but only for a second. When it’s here, we have to jump on. So when I say jump, jump. Okay?”
“Yeah, great, sure.” Jasper had no idea what the flying fuck he was talking about, but the second hand was less than a minute away from midnight. “Anything else?”
“Well, we have to be back at this exact spot at midnight tomorrow night or we’ll be trapped in the festival until Yule.”
“Wait, what?” He did not want to risk getting trapped in whatever �
��the festival” was until whenever Yule was. “What if I don’t jump?”
“I mean, that might be okay. If your kind regrows its kneecaps.” The clock overhead began to chime loudly. Its hands spun in frantic circles. Its face pulsed with purple light. “Don’t hold your breath!” shouted Crimson over the ear-shattering chimes and the excited cheering and whooping from the crowd. He turned his wrist so that they were holding hands, fingers twined together. “You’ll feel like you wanna, but if you do, you’re definitely gonna puke!”
Jasper glanced around for an escape route, but there were too many people. The last chime faded with a booming echo, and Crimson’s fingers tightened in his. Jasper heard a faint, strange chord of harp-like music and the sound of flutes. “Jump,” said Crimson, and the entire group went up as one.
At the top of his jump, their surroundings changed. It was like the festival was a lightbulb that had just been flipped on. First it wasn’t; then it simply was.
He felt the sudden hard jar of earth beneath his feet and stumbled, only Crimson’s hand stopping him from falling. His stomach was still tossing and, though he could see just fine, his eyes were still adjusting to the vision that appeared before him.
“Yeah, I know it’s not very fun,” admitted Crimson. They were near the foot of a grassy knoll, surrounded by a sparse smattering of trees. Just over the crest, yellow-orange hues meshed into the starry lavender sky. He could smell the smoke of the bonfire and hear the excited chatter of voices, the musical lilt of woodwinds and strings. “I hate portal travel. I think we can get some herbal stuff on the way in for the nausea.”
It wasn’t just the portal travel that was making his stomach nervous. It was everything. The situation, the portal, the occasional stray demon amidst the greater bulk of the spellcasters. The air felt thicker and smelt like a gigantic garden in full bloom, giving the forest a strange, giddy, dreamlike feeling. It was probably the excess of magical energy, he supposed. Or maybe simply the forest itself.
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