Dangerous Creatures (28 page)

“Do you speak English?”

He laughed. “English, not Idiot.” He gestured toward the stage. “Speaking of which, some of his lyrics I find hard to understand.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s funny, because every time you open your mouth, Idiot is all I hear.”

“You and him? That’s not a relationship. If you think it is, Little Siren, you’re in worse shape than I thought. Or should I call you Little Chicken Wing?”

“You could. But then I’d do this.” Ridley slapped him as hard as she could.

Nox winced, rubbing his jaw. “All right. Okay. Truce.”

She ignored him.

“You know why I make you so angry? Why I get right under your skin? We’re two of a kind, you and me.” He dropped his hand. She could see his eyes pulling toward her. She looked away.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Birds of a feather. Peas in a pod. Casters out of the same Dark handbook.” Nox winked. Ridley wanted to hit him even harder than she had before.

“You are so, so wrong.”

“Am I? And here I thought we were so simpatico.”

Her temper flared. “Simpatico? How? There’s nothing likable about you, and barely anything likable about me. In fact, we’re just about the two worst people I know.” It was how she felt about herself lately, and it made her feel a little better to finally be able to say it out loud.

Because it’s true
, she thought.
And it always will be. No matter how many jobs I get or how hard I try. No matter how badly I want to change.

How regular I want to be.

Nox nodded agreeably. “The worst. Exactly. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot and we were meant to be friends, in our own twisted way. Just like, I don’t know,
Link Floyd
?”

She swung up her arm to slap him again, but this time he caught it.

Nox shrugged. “We are who we are. I’m a Rolls, he’s a—what does he call it? A Beater?”

“Maybe,” Ridley said as she pulled her hand away. “But if I wanted a Rolls, Mr. Gates, don’t you think I’d just Charm a chauffeur?” She examined her silver nails.

He ignored her. “I own the club, which means I own your little boyfriend, too.”

Ridley twisted the pink streak in her hair expertly. “And if I wanted a club, Mr. Gates, don’t you think I’d just Charm the club owner?”

“Who says you haven’t?” He smiled. “Now that you mention it, who says he hasn’t Charmed you?”

She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.” Now Ridley’s hand was at her tiny silver clutch, casually flicking the lock, casually drawing her fingers inside.

“Would you like to be?” His voice dropped, dark and husky.

She laughed. There was some new angle to this game, and it wasn’t lost on her. Ridley was an expert at playing the angles. “Why are you trying so hard, Mr. Gates? I’m flattered, but we both know this isn’t about me.”

“You’re a Siren. I thought everything was always about you.”

“No, really. What’s changed since our last conversation? Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?” Ridley leaned forward. “Can’t take the pressure? Your goons coming for you? Let me guess—I’m not the only person who owes someone a little something-something around here?” She leaned closer. “Maybe you owe a few markers of your own?”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.” Nox was annoyed. “So try shutting up about it.”

Bull’s-eye
, she thought.

Ridley reached out to smooth the lapel of his coat with a tiny, victorious smile. “Gladly, Mr. Gates. And here’s a little good-bye for you: Whatever it is, I’m not helping you do it, find it, or get it. If it has anything at all to do with that
lump of Mortal mental limitations
up on that stage, you can forget it.”

A moment of anger lit his face. “For a Siren, you’re really not all that enthralling.”

“And you’re nobody’s sweet meatball,” she said, patting his cheek. “Poor thing.”

He covered her hand with his, leaning toward her to press his lips briefly against hers. She was breathless, and he took full advantage, biting her bottom lip. A surge of raw energy hit both of them. Ridley pulled away, gasping.

Then she kissed him back, pressing toward him like she was falling. She couldn’t help it. His kiss was like a Cast, and she was the only person Bound by it. Her lips were burning.

I want to slap him, but I want to kiss him. And I want him to kiss me.

As soon as she thought it, Nox pulled away from her, studying her eyes.

“Mmm-mmm,” he said. “Just like I thought. You’re sweet enough for both of us.” Then he stepped through the crowd and was gone.

No.

Ridley backed away, speechless, and fled to the front of the stage, her hand pressed against her lips as if she wished she could rip the kiss right off them.

Too bad she couldn’t.

Too bad she had lost control and kissed him back.

Too bad it was at that precise moment that Sirensong’s lead Linkubus happened to look up from his drum kit, center stage.

Watching your girlfriend—whether or not you’d broken up—kiss another guy always made something in a guy’s head snap, free and clear. Whether you were a Mortal or an Incubus.

Ridley could almost hear it snap, and she could tell from the look on Link’s face that there were no questions left. Not for him.

Link was out.

Ridley’s eyes blurred as she fought back tears. She could see it in Link’s face, even though he wouldn’t look at her.

Even though they hadn’t said a word to each other.

They didn’t need to say anything.

Link’s hand was glowing, as red as blood. The ring. Just like Lena had warned her. Ridley had never seen it that color before.

He wasn’t singing, but he was pounding on the drums as if he wanted to smash them.

Then he did.

“What the—” Floyd backed away as drum skins and metal and drumsticks and cymbal brass went flying.

Sampson dropped the mic stand.

Link picked up the bass drum and hurled it off the stage. The music stopped. He kicked over the keyboard, smashing it to the floor. It was like watching the Hulk on fast-forward.

He was done.

The stage had become a dark place.

But it was Necro who seemed to be feeling it most. When the bass hit the floor, she hit the floor with it, passing out into a crumpled pile of arms and legs and black leather.

Link looked down at his blue-haired bandmate, panting for breath, his voice raspy. “You okay?”

By the time Ridley pulled herself up onto the stage, Necro was out cold. Rid bent down and caught a glimpse of the girl’s neck. The cut was festering, a dark liquid oozing from the wound.

Black blood.

 
CHAPTER 24 

Wish You Were Here

I
t only took a few seconds for Link to pull off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and wrap it around Necro’s neck. Floyd held it there, but the blood kept seeping through.

“That’s not a regular cut,” Ridley said, hovering. “It wouldn’t be bleeding so much.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Link snapped.

“Somebody,” Floyd said, her face pale. “Somebody help us.”

“Link—” Ridley began.

He looked up at Ridley, his hands streaked black with blood. “No. Not now.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

Floyd stood up. “Leave.”

“I want to help.” Ridley was shaking.

Floyd looked like she wanted to slap her. “Nobody cares what you want.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Floyd’s voice rose. “For once will you shut up? This isn’t about you.”

“Just go,” Link said again. “Please, Rid.”

Then he scooped Necro up, as carefully as he would one of the Sisters’ baby squirrels, and carried her off the stage.

I really am the worst person in the world. Worse, even, than a Mortal. Worse than Lennox Gates himself.

It didn’t even take the whole cab ride for Ridley to come to that conclusion.

Link had told her to go, and so she’d gone, with nothing except the clothes on her back and a pocketful of lollipops. She’d Charmed the first taxi she saw and asked the driver to take her to the nicest hotel in New York City.

For once in her life, Ridley wanted to help. And she didn’t feel like abandoning all the inhabitants of apartment 2D, which was a new thing for her. And it was ripping her up inside that something was wrong with Necro; even she hadn’t seen anything like that before.

And Necro was the only person who had actually been nice to her since she’d gotten to New York.

Ridley felt terrible. She felt responsible. She felt worried. She felt anxious.

These were all unusual feelings for Ridley.

But Link didn’t want her around, and Floyd and Sampson cared more about getting Necro back to the apartment than anything else. The best thing she could do for all of them was leave and let them try and help Necro.

She had made this mess that night at Suffer, and she’d only made it worse since then.

It was time for her to go, and it was what Link wanted.

So she left behind Sirene and Marilyn’s Diner and apartment 2D and the Brooklyn Blowout. She left behind a sick Necromancer, an Illusionist with eyes for her ex-boyfriend, a highly questionable Darkborn, and a betrayed, brokenhearted quarter Incubus.

Ridley didn’t know where she was going, only what she was leaving behind. Which was everything.

When she looked out the window, there was nothing familiar. The city was changing in front of her eyes—the buildings getting taller, the window boxes getting watered, the streetlights getting brighter. This wasn’t Brooklyn. New York was the toughest place in the world if you couldn’t afford your rent. On the other hand, if you could afford not only your own rent but the rent of a thousand other people, New York was the greatest city in the universe. That was the part of town where Ridley was headed. She couldn’t afford it before, but if Link was the only reason she wasn’t using her powers, and he didn’t want her, there was nothing holding her back.

Seeing as Ridley herself had no interest in being a regular person.