That thought didn’t make Jude nearly as happy as it might have once.
Their deal was over. They’d done what they’d agreed. The major vampiric threat was vanquished and the not-so-monstrous monsters wreaking havoc in the mall had been freed. Stigmata scars and traumatic memories aside, the venture had been pretty successful. And now, Jude and Pixie’s temporary alliance was…
Did it really have to be temporary? Why should they go back to being strangers, or passing acquaintances? Jude had never been great at expressing himself. But of all the difficult words in the world, the one giving him the most trouble was goodbye.
A quiet tapping interrupted his melancholy thoughts, and he turned—not toward the door, but the window. It was still broken. He’d duct-taped cardboard across the frame as well as he could, but it let in a substantial draft. Below his improvised fix, he could see a few inches of light cast by the streetlamp outside, and a small bit of pink fluff and peach-fuzzy wings.
Jude bit down on his lips to keep from smiling as he stepped over and lifted the makeshift window. It actually did open, but it was far from perfect. Sometimes you didn’t need perfect, he thought, looking down at the pink bat on the windowsill. And sometimes you didn’t recognize it at first, even when it was right in front of you.
“Hello,” he said as the bat wiggled over the window threshold and onto the inner sill. “I heard that. Another crash landing?”
“Nah, I just thought I’d actually knock this time.” Pixie replied, once he was human enough to speak. He smiled, but looked a little apprehensive as he precariously balanced half-in, half-out of the window, feet not touching the floor. He wore a new scarf around his neck—red this time, and made from a shiny silk or silk-like material. Jude could swear he’d seen it somewhere before. “Can I come in?”
“You’re mostly in already,” Jude observed, unable to keep the smile off his face entirely. He didn’t expect to feel a wave of relief on seeing a vampire in his window, but he hadn’t expected a lot of things lately. “Does it even matter if I say no?”
“Course it does.” Pixie said immediately. He looked and sounded like his usual upbeat self but, by now, Jude recognized the seriousness and slight anxiety in his eyes. He looked mostly recovered from his ordeal under the mall, but Jude could still easily see white, starburst-shaped scars on the backs of both hands. “I gotta be invited, remember?”
“Didn’t I already?” Jude was surprised at the teasing note in his own voice, and the second laugh that wanted to escape him when Pixie gave him a surprised look, long ears twitching. It was cute. Jude didn’t use that descriptor often, but couldn’t think of a better one. “I distinctly remember saying something like that when we came here after that night in the parking lot.”
“Well… yeah,” Pixie said after hesitating. He was definitely nervous, and Jude didn’t feel like teasing him anymore. “But there’s saying something in, like, the heat-of-the-moment, and then there’s what you really want.”
“What I really want?” Jude repeated, more to himself than Pixie. He was still getting acquainted with the idea, especially when, like closure and perfection, he didn’t recognize it at first. Even when it was right in front of him.
“Yeah.” Pixie looked up at him, eyes wide but expression relatively reserved, likely his attempt at a pokerface. “Back then, I was hurt and we were scared and you said ‘stay with me.’ So I did. But just ‘cause you said yes one time doesn’t mean it’s okay every time.”
Jude started to nod and give his assent, when he stopped, something occurring to him. Like the idea of Felix at his door, he found this one unexpected, exciting, and a little bit paralyzing. Still, as he’d done so much in his life, Jude forced himself to keep moving forward. “This isn’t just a vampire thing, is it?”
“No,” Pixie said, voice small and surprisingly trepidatious, as if a single word from Jude would be enough to bring him to life or extinguish it for good. “It’s a… wanting to stay here and hang out with you thing. But not if you don’t want me to. You don’t have to say yes, really, I just thought—”
“Pixie…” Jude said, voice quiet but sure. “Come in. You are hereby invited.”
“Okay.” There was no broken glass on the floor this time, but Pixie still stepped down carefully, seeming relieved and a little in awe to be back in Jude’s apartment. Jude recognized the deer-in-the-headlights look, the one that asked ‘now what?’ He was feeling it too, in a big way.
“Do you want some sauce?” he asked after a few not-uncomfortably awkward seconds.
“That’d be great, thanks,” Pixie said with a nod. “But that’s not why I came here, I promise.”
“It’s fine if you did,” Jude said, heading toward his fridge and the crowded rows of bottles he’d carefully arranged inside. He passed a full bottle over to Pixie and wondered why their conversation suddenly sounded and felt so normal. Maybe adjusting wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. “Not like I’ll run out of this stuff any time soon. Or if I do, you can always ask Eva.”
“Cool,” Pixie said after taking a long swig and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He shot Jude a smile, but seemed thoughtful, like he was also considering something new and unexpected. “You know what? I might be able to actually go in and have some there, in a restaurant, like an actual normal person. That’s kind of amazing.”
“You mean, you’ve never…” Jude stopped as Pixie’s smile started to fade. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
Pixie shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just that there’s people there, you know? It’s hard to be around people when you got something heavy going on.” He took another sip, smaller this time, but still clearly enjoying it. “But like I said, it’s no biggie. There aren’t a whole lot of people I actually want to hang out with, or who I’d know how to talk to, so. Not like I’m missing much, right?”
“You still want to, though,” Jude said, feeling his way forward like inching across a fragile, fire-weakened floor. “Even if nobody really understands, sometimes it’s better than being alone. It’s easy to get… lost in yourself, if that makes sense.”
“Sure does.” Pixie was watching him now, as carefully as Jude was considering his own words. But the edge of apprehension was gone. They weren’t circling each other at arm’s length anymore, they were meeting each other halfway.
“Nice scarf,” Jude said, nodding at the new red fabric loosely tied around Pixie’s neck. It hid the awful scars just as well, but now Jude would never be able to look at it without remembering what lay beneath.
“What, this old thing?” Pixie grinned and played with the folds, moving his head so the shiny silk caught the light better. “It’s Jasper’s. He said I wore it better, but I dunno, you’ve seen some of his outfits, right? Awesome.”
“I thought it looked familiar,” Jude said with a rare smile, finally recalling the last time he’d seen it on its previous owner. It had only been a few days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. “It looks nice.”
“Thanks. Also,” Pixie continued, a note of anxiety entering his voice. “Um, thanks for… you know, back there, when I was, uh, not doing great? You covered it up.” He waved one hand at his newly-decorated neck, an airy motion, like it was no big deal, but the lightness didn’t come close to reaching his troubled eyes. “I was super out of it, but I remember that, I really don’t like people seeing it that much, and just, I appreciate it, so, thanks.”
“It was nothing. You would have done the same for me.” Jude believed that with all his heart. He couldn’t imagine saying that when this had all began, but then, he’d seen and done a lot of things he’d never imagined possible. “You don’t have to answer, but… that scar. Did Cruce…?”
“No,” Pixie said, gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed to shrink down into himself a bit, and Jude immediately inwardly kicked himself for whatever painful memory his question had set off. “No, he’s not the one who… it was someone else.”
“Someone else,” Jude
repeated, remembering Cruce’s cryptic words, hints at a ‘master,’ who’d given him specific orders. Orders involving Pixie. Most likely from the same ‘someone else’ at whom Pixie had hinted before. The one who’d killed him. Brutally. With their teeth. A chill swept over Jude. “Are they going to be a problem?”
“Probably,” Pixie said, voice as faint as it had been when he’d lay helpless in Jude’s arms down in the cave. “He’s… not a good guy. I don’t, um—thinking about him is kind of hard. Can we…?”
“Later. Don’t worry,” Jude said, and he could see the tension drain from Pixie’s shoulders, the fear fade from his face. “We’ll worry about all that later. And I’ll be here.” He meant every word, and didn’t regret regret a thing.
Slowly, Pixie looked up, met his eyes, and smiled. Something deep in Jude’s chest felt warm. “Thank you.”
Maybe it was a mistake, promising protection to a vampire. But, again, Jude knew if their positions were reversed, Pixie would stand right with him through it all. And it made what he had to say next even harder. He stayed quiet for a moment, evaluating risks, calculating odds. The next step was the biggest yet, but it was safe. He knew that like he knew how to find solid ground that wouldn’t collapse under his feet. “Pixie?”
“Yeah?” his voice was tight as well, and his eyes were locked on Jude’s. He could clearly tell Jude was gearing up for something significant, and he was right there with him. If they fell, they fell together.
“There’s something I learned a long time ago. When you walk through fire with someone,” Jude started slowly. “Which I feel like we did…”
“Fire, really?” Pixie grinned, picking up where Jude trailed off. The change in subject seemed to relax him, however anxious the two of them still were. His laugh was nervous, but it was still an improvement. “I must have been unconscious for that part.”
“It’s a metaphor—this time.” Jude shot Pixie a look, but not a genuinely annoyed one. “And I’m serious.”
“I’m listening,” Pixie reassured him. There was a slight giggle in his voice, but his expression soon reverted to the mixture of nervousness and hope Jude understood so well by now. “Go ahead.”
“Anyway,” Jude continued, but dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to watch Pixie’s face as he spoke. “Going through that has a way of tying you together. When you find someone you trust enough who’ll walk through the fire right along with you, you don’t ever really want to face it without that person again.”
“And that’s me?” Pixie’s voice sounded almost shy, as terrifyingly vulnerable as Jude felt, and he made himself look back up, surprised to find a smile on his face. Faint, fragile, but real.
“I have a lot of pieces to put back together,” Jude said. “Me and Eva, me and Jasper. Felix. And I don’t know what comes next. But feeling like this has to mean something. This has to be worth hanging onto. Whatever comes, I want to face it with you.”
“Even the parts with Jasper and Felix?” Pixie’s tone was a little dry, and his expression a lot knowing.
“What?” Jude could feel his face flushing again. The way Pixie tilted his head and grinned didn’t help.
“Come on.”
“You can tell,” he said with a sigh, resigned. Anything else was a losing battle, one Jude was fine with surrendering.
“Everybody can tell. Everybody living or dead can tell. People who aren’t living or dead could probably—”
“Yes, I get the picture,” Jude said, the heat in his face not dying down a single degree. “And yes. Jasper and Felix and I, before any of this—five years ago—we were heading some kind of direction. I think. I’m not even sure where, but…”
“Uh-huh.” Pixie said with a satisfied nod, as if he knew exactly which direction.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Jude didn’t know if his sudden defensiveness was because of discussing a hard-to-navigate situation with a relatively new person, or just his desire to mentally backflip away from hard-to-navigate situations in general. “Even if I care about them, and want—something, I’m not really someone who…” He stopped, suddenly more afraid to continue here than he would be walking into a burning building. Some things never got easier, not when you were talking about them with someone whose opinion actually mattered. “People getting together and falling in love—romantic love, anyway? And having sex or anything else? It’s not something I ever had much interest in.”
“Aro-ace?”
“I think grey on both.” The moment the words left his mouth, his eyes went to the unnaturally pale pallor of Pixie’s cheeks, and his own cheeks flushed even hotter. “I mean, a different kind of grey. No offense.”
“None taken.” Jude was sure Pixie was trying not to laugh now—and for once, he didn’t mind.
Jude almost laughed himself. “My point is, before any of this, at least I had a good handle on who I was. It took me a long time to get there. Then I met Eva—and she’s like me, she gets it. She gets me. But I never expected to… I just never expected Jasper and Felix, that’s all. I was never really sure what to make of them—I’m still not!” He smiled again, but it faded quickly. “We never got the chance to figure it out for sure. And I didn’t think it would ever…come up again. But it did.” He said the last three words looking directly into Pixie’s eyes, praying for him to understand the words Jude found so challenging to speak, harder than facing any nightmare. ”
“This stuff can be confusing as hell,” Pixie said, still in a much lighter tone than Jude would have expected. He relaxed a fraction. “Way worse than growing fangs—that’s easy, I’m a vampire, I vant blood, no questions there. But figuring anything else out is weird and messy and some people never get it down a hundred percent. But it’s all cool.”
“I know. But now it’s even more confusing,” Jude said a little more slowly than before, finding it hard to keep looking into Pixie’s eyes. “I didn’t expect them. And I definitely didn’t expect you. But having you here…”
“I’m definitely here.” Again, completely relaxed. Jude envied Pixie’s calm as much as he appreciated it. “If you want me to be.”
“I do,” Jude said, this time without hesitation. “But the rest of it—it’s going to take us a while to figure it out. Any of it. It’s an adjustment. Especially for Felix.” Jude fell silent for a moment, feeling hollow. “I can’t even imagine what it was like. How do you come back from that?”
“It’s hard.” Pixie spoke slowly, one thumb carefully passing over the scarring on the back of one hand. “Really… really hard. It’s not something you forget, that’s for sure. But he was down there for years, I was just a few days, maybe a week, tops, when I first got turned, and this last time combined. So it’s not like I’d… know…”
Pixie stopped, and his eyes slipped slightly out of focus. Something like fear passed over his face, and his pierced-and-healed hands began to shake. Slowly, praying he was doing the right thing, Jude reached out and gently took one of Pixie’s hands in his. As he’d noticed before, the vampire’s skin wasn’t cold or clammy. Aside from the grey coloration, it felt like holding any other human’s hand—except that this hand, unlike most other humans’, was one Jude actually enjoyed touching. And, from the way Pixie looked up at him, looking surprised as expected but eyes lit up with happiness instead of fear, the feeling had to be mutual.
“Yes you would,” Jude said in a low voice. “This isn’t a contest. If it was, we’d all lose, because there’s no winning in going through Hell and back.”
“Well, I think we’d all win.” The corner of Pixie’s mouth curled, but Jude couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace. “I think you kind of automatically win just for surviving. But I guess that’s easier said than done.”
“You did survive,” Jude said firmly as Pixie’s eyes dropped again. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that surviving and living aren’t the same thing. You can survive and not live. I did that for five years. But you’re still here, the most al
ive person I’ve ever known. Your life still counts. It’s proof that some things, even death can’t take away.”
“Like you said,” Pixie said quietly, looking down at their joined hands. “Some things are worth hanging onto.”
“Just to be entirely clear,” Jude asked, hating to break the moment but terrified of misstepping after coming so far. “We are talking about… you and me… being together?”
“If we’re not,” Pixie said, lifting up their hands and giving Jude’s a slight squeeze. “Then one of us is really confused here. And it would be me. Because yeah, that’s definitely what I’m talking about!”
“Okay. Good. Me too.” All at once, he felt hyperaware of every inch of his person, his tingling skin, his suddenly-unsteady legs and the mercifully faint but familiar phantom-limb sensation that made up the background of his life, now and maybe forever. Of the cool, soft breeze from the open, badly-repaired window. Of Pixie’s surprisingly warm hand in his, and how very close they were standing. He was well used to the distortions of time after trauma, how days seemed like years, years seemed like hours. He wasn’t used to actually wanting moments to last forever.
“So,” Pixie said at last, breaking the spell in a way Jude didn’t mind at all. “Does this mean I can use the window whenever I want?”
Jude’s cheeks ached. When had he started smiling? When had Pixie gotten so firmly under his skin, become such a part of his life it felt like he had always been here? “You can even use the door.”
Pixie let his head drop, giving a soft laugh. Then he looked up, raising his eyebrows in an expectant way. “Jude?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you ever going to kiss me?”
“I was getting there,” Jude said, mouth dry and hands sweaty, shaking and overjoyed and terrified in the best way. “If that’s all right.”
The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really Page 19