The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really

  Contents

  Copyright

  Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really.

  Dramatis Personae

  The Devil

  Act One: Going Through the Motions

  The Hanged Man

  Act Two: Of Lost Causes

  The Tower

  Act Three: Pale Moonlight

  Death

  Act Four: Flashbacks

  Judgement

  Act Five: Descent

  The Lovers

  Act Six: The Circle

  To be continued...

  About the Author

  Also By the Author

  To my family, especially my small snorking friend who has about eight teeth, and no fangs. <3

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

  Thank you so much to Moo and Kevie for supporting, feeding, and loving me while I worked on this weird book.

  Thank you to Noel Arthur Hemipel for the use of the amazing Numinous Tarot images! I can't wait to get my hands on the real thing. <3

  Thank you to the Kraken Collective for being awesome and helping make Stake Sauce as gorgeous (and coherent) as possible, particularly Lyssa Chiavari's dynamite graphic design, and Claudie Arseneault's always-magical editing wizardry.

  Thank you to Eri for listening to me babble endlessly about these dork vampires, and babbling back until it turned into something super freaking awesome. If I do say so.

  And thank you to everyone who's followed me since Chameleon Moon - I hope you like this just as much, and find it fun, exciting, and validating to read. I sure did.

  STAKE SAUCE, ARC 1: “The Secret Ingredient is Love. No, Really.”

  Copyright © 2017 by RoAnna Sylver.

  Published by Kraken Collective Books.

  krakencollectivebooks.com

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by RoAnna Sylver.

  Tarot illustrations by Noel Heimpel.

  Interior formatting by Key of Heart Designs.

  Typefaces by Misprinted Type.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, trademarks, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Jude Milton: Used To Jump Out Of Helicopters To Fight Fires. Now Fights Something Else. Mall Cop By Day, Vampire Hunter By Night, Vigilance Always. Don’t Say “Hey.”

  Pixie: An Unsuccessful Vampire and Even Less Successful Musician. Punk Isn’t Dead! He Is. That Doesn’t Mean He Goes Around Biting People. Come On. Gross.

  Eva Corona: Mall Superintendent And Productive Member Of Society. Just Wants To Get Through A Day Without Losing Another Coffee. Or Friend.

  Jasper: Chases Away Memories And Nightmares With Rare Books And Records; None For Sale. Has A Persona For Every Day Of The Week. Trying To Remember The Real One.

  Felix: Search-And-Rescue Medic Who Couldn’t Be Rescued, But May Yet Be Found. Greatly Mourned, Missed and Maligned.

  Nails: Sharpest Claws And Strategic Skills This Side Of The Veil. Dreamed Of Gold-Paved Streets. Got Her Wish.

  Maestra: A Virtuosic Artist On A Skateboard And Anywhere Else. Born For The Spotlight. Died For It, Too.

  The Witch: Mysterious and Very Cool Benefactor and Mostly-Knowing, Little-Saying Seer. Will Cast Eldritch Magics For Coffee. Wears Shades At Night. Suspicious.

  Cruce: A Charismatic But Vicious Underworld Predator. Bite Even Worse Than His Bark.

  And Finally, Just Offstage But Never Far From The Spotlight: A Man Of Wealth And Taste, Whose Name We Don’t Have To Guess.

  “All right.” Eva Corona rested her folded hands on an uncompleted incident report form, steadily looking across her desk. A pen sat beside the papers, but she didn’t yet pick it up. “Who was it this time?”

  “The usual suspects,” said the pale, thin man on the other side of the desk. He wore a blue security guard’s uniform and stood at attention, back ramrod-straight. Aside from speaking, he held perfectly still, grey eyes fixed on her.

  “Okay.” Eva gave a half-nod, tilting her head. “So, teenagers?”

  “Two of them.”

  “And you said they were ‘the usual suspects.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “Refresh my memory?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she gave a moderately exasperated sigh. Pulling teeth, like always. “At ease, soldier.”

  As if unused to the motion, Jude Milton rolled his shoulders and made himself relax. But he couldn’t seem to keep it up for long and shifted into something like a military at-ease position, clasping his hands firmly behind his back.

  “I didn’t mean literally…” Eva said, then opted for a less-resistant path and let it go. This conversation was going to be hard enough already. “Never mind. So. Two of them?”

  “One was on a skateboard,” he said haltingly, in a quiet and raspy voice that suggested he might need to clear his throat. She wondered if this was the first time he spoke today. Sounded like it. “The other wore those shoes. With the wheels.”

  “Heelys?”

  “Inside. And down the center of the escalator.” He sounded almost offended, but didn’t break his steady gaze. Her eyebrows came together in an expression of hesitant scrutiny. He said nothing, just waited for her next question.

  “So, any description besides their wheels?”

  “They were… pale.” Even—technically—at ease, Jude fidgeted under her gaze, his eyes dropping briefly to her desk and the still-blank incident report form.

  Eva hesitated, prolonging the tense silence like she was locked in a chess game and running out of moves. It wasn’t that Jude was going to win—neither of them ever came out of these talks a winner. But she could feel something building like far-off thunder. Familiar thunder, ominous. But like a parched traveler whose only oasis lay across an active minefield, she grit her teeth and kept moving. “How pale are we talking about? Are you saying they were white kids?”

  “No,” he said, then corrected himself, continuing in a neutral, matter-of-fact near-monotone. “Sort of. One was. The other, I believe, was African American. She had the skateboard.”

  “Okay.” Now Eva picked up the form and clicked her pen top, trying to fill the damn thing out fast, before he could say anything else. “So, black girl on a skateboard, white kid in heel—”

  “Grey kids.”

  She stopped writing. Held perfectly still, as if that would somehow postpone the inevitable. “No.”

  “Skateboard kid was a kind of slate grey-ish—”

  “Jude, no.”

  “And her friend was paler, but still definitely grey, no pigment at all.” His words started to speed up, but he didn’t raise his voice from its plain, inexpressive neutral. “Probably because they don’t have any oxygen left in their red blood cells. Which aren’t actually red anymore. My theory is that the shift from living to reanimated bodily fluids and deoxygenation affects skin coloration as well as blood—they don’t bleed, that’s why they drink it—or it has something to do with necrotizing-but-preserved flesh. Whatever the case, they definitely—”

  “Oh my God,” Eva sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose—then immediately stopping, because the motion scrunched the Band-Aid plastered over it, one a pink color about four shades too light for her deep brown skin. It was almost coming off already because of the number of times she’d performed that particular gesture today, and yet, it still wasn’t the most annoying thing in the room. “Anything else out of the ordinary? Anything I can actually write down here?”

  His brow furrowed, as if he were replaying whatever he’d
seen over in his head and not liking a second of it. “No. These are definitely the same ones I’ve seen around here the past several weeks. They have to have a lair somewhere nearby.”

  “A lair. All right.” Eva clicked the pen closed again and let it drop. She leaned back in her cushioned leather chair and stared up at the ceiling. She’d seen burning buildings that weren’t as big of disasters as this conversation. “Thank you. Really appreciate you reporting in today, Jude, always a pleasure.”

  “I can give a much more detailed description if you need one, Ma’am.” He paused. “If you’ll accept it.”

  “Now I’m ‘Ma’am.’” She went to pinch the bridge of her nose again, remembered the damn Band-Aid and residual ache just in time, and covered her eyes briefly instead. “You’re mad at me. You’re passive-aggressive and you’re mad at me.”

  “Just doing my job. Ma’am.”

  She rolled her eyes, then took the opportunity to give him a good hard look for the first time since he’d set foot in her office. Jude’s face was always drawn and pale, almost an unhealthy grey himself. This morning, and not for the first time, she’d told some other mall security guards off for unfavorably comparing him to one of the living dead he calmly but relentlessly insisted walked among them. She’d never admit it, or let anyone run their mouths like that without an ass-kicking, but the jerks had a point.

  These days, Jude looked a little more dead than alive. Especially around the eyes, with the deep, dark circles underneath. His tendency to stare—into space, directly at people, or through them, as if he’d forgotten they were there—didn’t help either. Today his eyes were so blank, and his tone so deadpan, she couldn’t tell if he was serious or sarcastic. Any other day she might not mind his characteristic reticence, but today…

  “Just doing your job? I don’t think so. You’re going a little above and beyond. See this?” Eva gestured to the ‘flesh’-colored Band-Aid across her nose. “My day hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows either. Know what happened this morning, the second I set foot in here?”

  Jude stayed quiet, seeming to know he was about to hear the answer anyway.

  “I’m walking,” Eva reflected. “Coffee. Favorite shirt. Bluebirds in the parking lot, just a real nice morning. That kid with the purple hair from The Abyss down the far end waves at me. Jasper’s just opening up his place, we say hi. He acts like he’s up to no good, and I’m catching him in the act, but he’s messing with me, you know how he does. It almost feels normal. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of them.”

  “One of…” Jude’s eyes lit up a little, but he—wisely—caught himself and shut his mouth as she watched. Progress.

  “This skinny, ratty-looking little punk comes sashaying out of the food court and wings a crumpled-up burger wrapper at my latte. Except I don’t know it’s paper, I think it’s a damn baseball, ‘cause first he winds up like it’s the World Series!”

  Jude stayed quiet. To his credit, he didn’t smile, he maintained eye contact, and at least seemed to be listening. But it didn’t matter how genuine he seemed if nothing actually improved. The longer they knew one another, the less she seemed to know him. But he was going to learn something today, she resolved. Whether he liked it or not.

  “I see what he’s gonna do, and I got two seconds to decide what to protect. Coffee, shirt, face, I’m trying to save three things with two hands, when—bam!” She mimed something flying at her face, then ‘exploded’ her fist, spreading her fingers wide before dropping her hand to the desk. “Ball hits face.”

  “He hurt your nose?” Jude asked, now at least sounding concerned.

  “It was paper, Jude. No, I’m so shocked, I try to block with my coffee hand…” She let out an embarrassed laugh, waving at the Band-Aid across her nose. Almost forgot it wasn’t five years ago, and she wasn’t telling her friend a tragic story just to vent. “I hit my own nose with the thermos. Which they both saw—Jasper and the goth kid, who was nice enough to get me some ice.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jude said, and the too-rare smile he gave her in return wasn’t gloating or mocking—she’d never actually seen that on his face. He looked sheepish enough that she wondered if he remembered doing something similarly embarrassing and just never mentioned it, the way they never really talked anymore.

  “Me too,” she said, shaking her head and trying to hold onto the moment. Stay connected, if only for a few seconds. “I’m just glad I went with iced this morning.”

  “You want me to keep an eye out? I think I know the guy you mean.” Jude actually sounded more engaged now. But he was too late in several ways.

  “I’d rather you were there when I called security.” Eva’s smile faded as she returned to the present. Their shared past and disconnected present weighed her down like a backpack full of bricks. She wasn’t angry anymore. Anger required energy, and hers was in increasingly short supply. “But you weren’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, but without the smile this time. His eyes flicked away. Not for the first time, Eva wondered what the hell happened to her friend, the man she’d trusted with her life too many times to count. Granted, the past five years had been full of changes for all three of them—her, Jude, and Jasper, all starting a new life together—and not nearly enough of those changes were good. Still, Eva thought her transition from the fire engine to the desk had been relatively smooth. Jasper had to miss the excitement and drama, but he appreciated the normalcy too, she knew. Jude, on the other hand, seemed… not just a different person. He didn’t even seem here at all.

  “Where were you?” Eva asked, the question aimed at the Jude of the last five years as much as the one in front of her. Again, she hoped and prayed he’d have a good answer, instead of the one she expected. Maybe he’d been occupied with a shoplifter. Maybe there’d been some parking-lot scuffle to break up. In all their time here, she couldn’t remember any serious crises, but messy nonsense still happened day-to-day. After five years of increasingly-disappointing predictability, it was getting harder to give Jude the benefit of the doubt.

  “I was…” He stared down at the incident report paper. He wasn’t standing ‘at ease’ anymore, thin shoulders dropping a little. “I’ll be there next time.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she said, but didn’t feel very happy. Or convinced. She was even less encouraged by the suddenly thoughtful look on his face. “What?”

  Jude paused, looking like he was trying to decide how much to say or reveal. Once, they’d told each other everything without a second thought. The difference hurt. So did the distance. “It was just one guy, right?”

  “Yeah, just the one. Skinny ginger-looking kid, teenage or maybe a little older, hard to tell with objects flying at my face. Why?”

  “The ones I keep running into are two girls,” he said, actually sounding relieved. And still convinced, Eva realized with some dismay. She didn’t know which was worse, Jude making up wild stories that tested her trust and friendship, or Jude actually believing what he was saying. “Never seen any with that description. It’s probably fine.”

  “It’s not fine,” she said bluntly, feeling a small flare of something like annoyance, but much more personal, more painful. Betrayal. “Someone threw something at me, and ran away while I stood there drenched in iced coffee with a bloody nose. Which you would have seen, if you were there when I needed you.”

  “I’ll…” He started, then stopped. She waited, but he said nothing.

  “Jude, we’ve been doing this dance for five years. Isn’t it time we talked about something else?”

  “I know what I saw,” he said in a low, steady voice. “And you already know what I’m going to say.”

  “You’ve stuck to your story, I’ve gotta give you that.” Eva shrugged, sighed, and resigned herself to one more dance.

  “That’s because it’s the truth.”

  She shut her eyes. Of all things, that was one she never wanted to hear. “I don’t know what to believe, Jude. You come in
here and tell me that Portland—and the Sunrise Plaza Mall, specifically—is infested with undead, bloodsucking pests? Actual vampires preying on people who go down the wrong street at night? And that five years ago…” She trailed off and let the silence hang. She didn’t have the words to fill it.

  Jude took a small step forward for the first time, reaching out to gingerly touch the desk between them with two fingers. “Believe that I wouldn’t lie to you. Not after all this.”

  “I don’t think you’re lying,” she said, hating the uncertainty in her own voice. She hated all of this. “Not... not exactly.”

  “Believe that I’m dedicated to protecting this place, and the people in it, from threats of all kinds.” He sounded so sure. She wished she could borrow some of that certainty.

  “I want to believe that,” she said, certain of this at least. “That you’d still walk through fire to save someone in danger. That’s why I wanted you for this job.” She smiled down at his faint reflection in her desk’s glossy surface. “Because the fire’s still in you. And knowing you’re here gives me a chance to rest easy.”

  “I can’t rest easy.” It sounded like a resolution, almost a promise, and it was the most familiar thing she’d heard this whole strange day. It sounded like the old Jude, the one she knew five years ago. The only Jude she recognized. It almost hurt. “Not if my company leader doesn’t trust me. That’s on me, not you. I’ll do better.”

  “Jude.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “First of all, I am not your company leader anymore. I’m a mall superintendent, and you’re a mall cop. You’re here to keep an eye out for rowdy kids, shoplifters, and to call the actual authorities if someone throws anything more dangerous than a ball of trash… and I’m here to sit behind a desk, push papers, and keep the lights on.” She smiled, and it was tired but ultimately satisfied. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted a desk job?”