The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really

by RoAnna Sylver

  “Okay,” she said, considerably more calmly. “That’s one bottle down. Ninety-nine on the wall to go.”

  “What about your cousin, um, Layla?” He frowned, trying to remember several years back, before their lives had been shaken up and distorted beyond recognition by smoke, fire and blood. “You took me to a dinner she gave once? There was a ton of great food, lots of people. You could probably give a bunch to them.”

  Eva gave him a long-suffering look. “My extended family’s Muslim, you doorknob. That was an after-Ramadan feast.”

  “Huh?”

  “I can’t give them that. Against their religion? They don’t eat gross things like blood sauce—or anything made with blood. Unlike some people, who think wine literally… you know, that long trans-word I can’t pronounce. Not ‘transgender,’” she said with a smile. “You walked me through all that.”

  “Transubstantiation,” Jude sighed, the syllables rolling automatically right off his tongue. They carried old-but-unfaded memories of school uniforms, black-robed nuns leading morning prayers, sweaty kids packed close in together for special occasion services, jokes about whether saints ever stepped in during finals.

  “That’s the one. Wine literally turning into the holy body and blood? I don’t get Catholics. No offense.”

  “I’m… a lapsed Catholic.” He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Some memories weren’t overtly traumatic, at least in the horror-and-death way, but he still didn’t like to spend too much time in them. “Very lapsed. I don’t get us either.”

  Eva gave him another, more thoughtful look. “Jude, when you changed your name, you picked a saint. Even an aimless, lapsed Baptist like me knows that.”

  “Patron Saint of Lost Causes,” he said with an appreciative nod. “It was very meaningful at the time.” A grimace crossed his face, as if he’d just tasted or smelled something vastly unpleasant. “Then the goddamn Beatles came along.”

  Eva laughed. “Then they came along? Think you’re about fifty years too late.” She shook her head and headed toward the door. “Finish that pizza. And the sauce. Then I can shove another bottle off on you.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be selling these?” he called after her, then followed, quickly starting to undo his seven locks. “Do I owe you anything?”

  “Pay me back by staying home at night and doing your job in the daytime,” she said, leaning against the wall as he finished the last lock and opened the door. “Honestly, I just appreciate you taking the stuff off my hands. Can’t wait to have some counter space again.”

  When Eva left, the apartment was very quiet, and Jude was alone with his thoughts. He had even more tonight than usual. But for once, they weren’t entirely about deep shadows and sharp fangs.

  Sometimes, Jude was actually glad the mall was so overstimulating. Headache-inducing or not, its bright lights and crowd chatter drummed any thoughts of fanged horrors out of his head—here, they seemed ridiculous. This was the real world, and nothing he was scared of belonged. The shadows didn’t run miles deep. Nightmares and half-buried memories faded in the face of neon lights and sale signs. Everything seemed familiar, friendly, and reasonable in the sun.

  But the main promenade wasn’t his ultimate destination. He’d get out on the floor soon. He’d meant it when he told Eva he’d actually do his job, but one last loose end remained. Or a last chance. The light of day made him brave enough to take it. He turned into a small corner shop, bearing a sign reading Jasper’s Rare Finds: Vintage Books and Records in curling, elegant lettering.

  Jude blinked a few times as he crossed the threshold. It was always darker in Jasper’s store than in the brightly lit mall, and more cramped. Every bit of shelf and floor space was crammed with books, records and mysterious-looking items. Crystal balls that had to be fake. A large, rune-covered skull that Jude certainly hoped was. It all made for an impressively arcane atmosphere, like every book or antique might be hiding something and, if they weren’t, anyone who frequented this place probably was.

  Jude was almost certain this place was a front for something else, dealing in illicit materials not found on its visible shelves—what, he didn’t care to hazard a guess. Ordinarily lawful in the extreme, Jude made one glaring exception. As long as Jasper wasn’t hurting anyone else, or himself, he deserved whatever coping mechanism worked, however shady. The only warning signs, so far, were Jasper’s evasive answers about his job’s specifics and the occasional unsavory or enigmatic person hanging around his store.

  Jude had passed one on the way over. A few small tables stood near the store’s entrance, overflow from the nearby coffee shop. The one nearest to the doorway was occupied by a pale woman all in black, complete with a floppy-brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses, sitting alone shuffling a deck of cards. Every time he’d come here, actually, she seemed to be there with her cards and tall coffee. Jude never asked, but he had to wonder if Jasper actually paid her to sit there and add to the mysterious ambiance. Much stranger things had happened. At one point her presence had made Jude decidedly nervous—pale strangers tended to do that—but after the first few times, he’d concluded she was probably just an older example of the mall goths who frequented The Abyss. Jude had never been inside; the colorful hair and loud music repelled him, and at least none of the clientele had yet shown fangs.

  “Jasper? Are you even in here?” There was barely room to pick his way through the labyrinthine shelves and piles of books sitting on the floor. Jasper would call it ‘cozy’ or ‘atmospheric.’ Jude called it a mess.

  “Mmm,” came the noncommittal response. Jasper stood behind the counter, round shoulders hunched as he pored over yet another thick, leather-bound book. He hadn’t looked up when Jude entered, and didn’t now.

  He was heavyset and not much older than Jude’s 25, but he’d clearly made an effort to look otherwise. His face was hidden by the brim of a large black top hat and, under it, his thick dark hair was disheveled. Deceptively so, Jude knew just how long it took to tease it into the perfect shape and frizz level.

  “I need to talk to you,” Jude said, finally emerging from the shop’s maze. Every book he could see was old, decades or maybe centuries, but well-preserved. Nothing was overtly ominous, but the dim light and arcane aesthetics put him in a certain state of mind, one he never liked to linger in. He couldn’t wait to see fluorescent lights.

  “Of course. Anything.” Today’s costume didn’t look like Wednesday’s usual, now that he could see it properly. Wednesday usually involved plaid, but this one instead gave the impression of a circus ringleader or cabaret Master of Ceremonies. A bright red silk scarf contrasted with his black and white tuxedo and tails, and there seemed to be a very fine layer of glitter over all of him, and a bit on the nearby countertop. But what Jude could see of the book on the counter was clean and glitter-free. It looked very old and the writing on its weathered, parchment-like pages was small and in a language he didn’t recognize. Apparently Jasper did, because he smiled, as if he’d just read something funny. He still didn’t look up.

  “It’s about...” Jude lowered his voice and tried to make the near-whisper as intense as possible. Sometimes drama worked when not much else did. “...Them.”

  Jasper casually turned a page. “Anything but that.”

  “It’s important,” Jude said at a regular volume and his normal, if slightly annoyed, voice.

  “So is deciphering Ms. Verazza’s latest enigma.” Now Jasper looked up, and his entire ensemble came together. His heavy eyeliner came down into points halfway down a theatrically pale face and black-polished nails gleamed in the low, faux-candlelight as he folded his hands and rested his elbows on the front desk. Gothic ringleader, Jude thought, a little appreciatively despite himself. With some creepy harlequin. “That woman is taunting me, I can just feel it.”

  “If she wrote that,” Jude said, nodding down to the yellowed pages and dense scrawls, “she has to be taunting you from beyond the grave. How old is that
thing?”

  “At least a-hundred-and-fifty years,” Jasper said, casting the book a baleful glance as if it were indeed smugly mocking him. “And, for the past week, it’s been quite the headache. You wouldn’t happen to have heard of a ‘burned angel,’ have you? Who ‘sleeps in the circle of stones?’”

  “Is that some kind of riddle?” Jude frowned, wary of being pulled into some game for which he really wasn’t in the mood. He’d always gotten the feeling Jasper’s side businesses involved more than old books. Magic, if he was to be believed. Jude wasn’t sure how much he did believe. His brain rebelled at the existence of vampires, much less anything else. He’d never really inquired about specifics and he’d never seen Jasper do anything more ethereal than morph his hair and makeup from one persona to another. He was also a firm believer in using whatever coping mechanism worked, no matter how unorthodox.

  “You tell me.” Jasper shot Jude a quick grin, raising his eyebrows in a very expectant way. Clearly he was in the mood for games. Color Jude unsurprised.

  “I don’t know.” Jude shook his head, glancing back out toward the wide open mall and its tempting, brightly lit spaces and complete absence of non-sequiturs. Maybe coming in here had been a mistake.

  “Are you all right?” The slightly provocative smile slipped off Jasper’s face and his pale blue eyes turned searching instead of playful. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  “More like nights,” Jude admitted, with some regret and more fatigue. “A few nights.”

  “Bad dreams?” Coming from anyone else, the question would have seemed invasive, or teasing. But despite the glint he’d had in his eyes a moment ago, Jasper seemed nothing but sincere and concerned. More than that, he sounded like he had experience. Both of these impressions, Jude knew, were accurate.

  “Old ones.” Jude ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his sore neck. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since Eva left last night, unable to stop replaying everything she’d said, and everything he’d seen in the parking lot earlier. “The kind that don’t go away when I wake up.”

  “Well, if there’s any way I can help,” Jasper offered, serious and sympathetic. “I’ll do it in a heartbeat, you know that.”

  “You could back me up.” Jude leaned forward in an uncharacteristically conspiratorial way, resting his own elbows on the counter. He’d seen Jasper utilize space and nonverbal communication to emphasize his points enough times to give it a try himself, no matter how silly it felt. “I’m done, I really am, but Eva still thinks I imagined the whole thing, and I just don’t want it to end like that. And you can tell her I’m not making it up, and I’m not just seeing things. I’m not that far gone yet.”

  “Oh.” Jasper immediately looked back down at his book, seeming to find something in its inscrutable text deeply intriguing. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Jude asked, a little more loudly than he’d intended, and straightened up, frustration shaking his focus.

  “Many reasons,” Jasper said, with a firmness clearly meant to discourage argument, which might have worked on anyone who wasn’t Jude. “None of which would do any good to drag back up to the surface.”

  “This is important,” Jude insisted, intent on finding at least one ally. Common sense and good advice told him to give it all up without question—but he couldn’t stand the thought of his best friends thinking he was misguided at best and completely out of touch with reality at worst. Especially when he’d seen firsthand evidence to the contrary. “I told Eva I wasn’t doing this anymore—”

  “Oh, good for you!”

  “I said I would stop.” Jasper chuckled at this, and Jude had the sudden urge to grab the top hat off his head. Didn’t know what he’d do with it, but it would get his attention. “And I will. Soon.”

  “You lied to Eva?” Now Jasper peered up from underneath his hat, interest seeming piqued.

  “No, I didn’t lie,” Jude said slowly, trying to sound as reasonable and grounded in reality as possible. Being in this particular shop, and talking with its owner, always made that difficult. “She told me to let the past go and focus on the present, and she’s right, and I will. Very soon.”

  “You lied to Eva,” Jasper concluded, nose back in the book. “Your funeral.”

  “I saw them,” Jude lowered his voice again to an intense whisper. “Last night. In the parking lot.”

  “You saw something strange in the parking lot?” Jasper said with a dry laugh, not looking up. “Alert the media.”

  “It was them!” Jude insisted. “The two girls? I’ve been catching more and more glimpses lately, and last night I got closer than I ever have—”

  “Oh, God love you, Jude,” Jasper said with a sigh and a slow shake of his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

  “It’s the truth and you know it. All of it,” Jude said softly, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. They were the only ones in here, standing close enough to speak in whispers, but he still felt exposed and vulnerable whenever he said certain things out loud. “You were there. You saw everything I did. Eva didn’t, but I know you did.”

  “That’s certainly true,” Jasper said briskly. His eyes scanned the page, but Jude had the distinct impression that he wasn’t reading a word anymore. “I saw a lot of things. Felt them. Heard, smelled, tasted even, it was a five-sense experience. And that’s how I developed a sixth sense for things that are better left alone.”

  “So you’re giving up?” Jude asked, equal parts disappointed and incredulous.

  “Yes!” Jasper raised his voice beyond low conversational tones for the first time and his bright blue eyes flashed in a glare as he lifted his head. Jude wasn’t often on the receiving end of one of those. He sometimes forgot exactly how much intensity Jasper could command, this was a reminder. “And I’ve said it before, you would too if you had half the sense Eva thinks you do.”

  “Well, that’s not much.”

  “My point exactly.”

  Jude glanced around at the store full of old books, crystals, skulls, and objects he couldn’t even identify, and resisted comment. “Don’t you want to find the things that attacked us that night?”

  “Thing.” Jasper’s sharp eyes narrowed, a sudden undercurrent of cold anger in his voice. All at once, his dark ringleader costume and harlequin-esque makeup seemed a lot more menacing. There were a lot of creatures Jude had no desire to run into in a dark alley and, for the first time, he got the feeling that Jasper was not only prepared to meet them, but would have a better chance of surviving than he did. “There was only one.”

  “I know. The one that killed Felix. Isn’t that—”

  “Don’t talk about him like that, please.” Jasper closed the book with a soft thud. His voice dropped, and there was no sharp edge to his words, but Jude knew better than to push him. Jude had seen the way Eva froze, hearing that name. He probably did the same whenever someone mentioned it. Jasper didn’t freeze, really, but he did push himself back from the counter which Jude felt much more tangibly as a barrier between them, everything about his face and voice seeming to close off and invite no pursuit. “Let’s not use his memory to win arguments.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jude said, wishing for not the first time that life came with a rewind button instead of existential dread and fanged menaces. Going back a few seconds, or a few years, both ideas were tantalizing. “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

  “No, I am.” Jasper’s sequin-dusted shoulders sagged and every bit of energy their quick back-and-forth had built up seemed to seep out of the room as he sighed, leaving Jude cold. He took off his hat and started to rub at his temples and tightly-shut eyes. “That was uncalled-for. You weren’t trying to... you cared about him too. You understand.”

  Jasper put his warm hand briefly on Jude’s arm and squeezed, before taking a few steps away and sinking his heavy frame down into a rarely-occupied reading chair half-hidden by the counter. Jude always ha
d suspected it wasn’t actually for customers. Jasper shut his eyes and rested his forehead in his hands, hat laying forgotten on the counter.

  “Another migraine?” Jude asked, lowering his voice as he had before, but this time it wasn’t to be dramatic.

  “Or something like it...” Jasper didn’t look up, also as before, but not to play a game. “Regular stuff isn’t working. Might have to break out something stronger. At least it’s legal now.”

  “Your pain’s getting worse?” Jude’s voice sharpened involuntarily, and he felt a pang of adrenaline. Worry felt like nausea, but colder.

  “Not getting any better, that’s for sure.” He let out a long sigh, seeming to deflate. He murmured something. Maybe Jude wasn’t supposed to hear but he caught the tail end anyway, “only thing that used to help...”

  “What used to help?” Jude asked quickly, still feeling energized and propelled into action despite having nothing useful to actually do.

  A slight pause. When the answer came, it was mumbled and flat. “Felix’s hands.”

  Jude hesitated, holding very still. “I’m not meaning to pry—”

  “By all means, pry away,” Jasper actually laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “It’ll distract me.”

  “I thought your head started hurting after... that night,” Jude said, with the fervent hope he wasn’t about to hear something that would make their strained days and desolate nights even worse. “Is it something else now?”

  “I’ve always had migraines,” Jasper said, massaging his temples. “But yes, they did get much worse five years ago. Blunt force trauma will do that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jude said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. That was a regular problem.

  “Felix helped with all of it, before.” Jasper said, continuing to rub at his head in what seemed to be a poor substitute. “His hands were amazing—I guess you don’t get to be a medic unless you have them. They always knew exactly where it hurt, and how to take the pain away. And so gentle. Like the rest of him. Magical hands, always where they were needed most.” In the brief pause that followed, he glanced up, and Jude caught the faintest ghost of familiar amusement in his eye. “Yes, I’m still talking about headaches.”