by Kami Garcia
She groaned.
“Anyway. No Mortal sights down here, Lucille. Just a bunch a dumb old rocks and Casters.”
But Lucille didn’t care. She sat in a pool of light, delicately licking her paw. When Link tried to pick her up, she hissed at him.
“Fine. Be that way. If you get mugged, I’m not going to be the one explainin’ it to the Sisters. You’re gonna have to grease that hog yourself.”
“He’s talking to that cat.” Necro raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” Ridley sighed. “Lucille Ball. She’s sort of like the cousin of his best friend.” Link ignored them, cooing at Lucille. It was the friendliest Link had heard Rid get with any of the band, and he didn’t want to break up the moment.
“You’re kidding.” Necro looked from Link to Ridley. “She’s kidding, right?”
Link kept walking, with Lucille following ten feet behind. He knew better than to mess with the Sisters’ cat, even all the way up North. He should’ve known that cat could handle herself wherever she was.
She was tougher than any of them.
Now Link could see a light ahead of them in the Tunnels, where the passageway broadened into a crossroads. The words CASTER UNDERGROUND were laid into the tile mosaic in the walls where the pathways met. On the wall beneath the mosaic hung what looked like a hand-drawn map, held by an elaborately carved frame.
“Siren Hill.” Floyd pointed at a spot on the map. “That’s where we’re headed.” Then she pointed to a far tunnel. “That one.”
Link peered over her shoulder. “That’s how you get there? Not from the Mortal world?”
Floyd shrugged. “There are back doors, side doors, trapdoors. But yeah, more or less. The main entrance is from down here.”
“Just try to keep up,” Necro said, heading into the farthest tunnel. They followed her as she moved through the darkness, until she reached a stone staircase leading to a rusted metal door. By the time the others rejoined her, she was already pushing open the Doorwell—and the echoing stillness of the Underground gave way to something that could only be described as pure chaos.
Mardi Gras, Link thought. Beale Street on a hot night. Ever since he went to that creepy bokor’s shop with Ethan, he’d used the Underground to retrace his steps to the City That Care Forgot on more than one occasion. Doesn’t smell much better here, either.
The moment they stepped into the dim cavern, the noise overwhelmed them. Outside the Doorwell, the crowd was so thick that it was impossible to see past the first ten feet of people, even for a supersized quarter Incubus who was head and shoulders above almost everyone else.
“Can you see the door?” Floyd shouted up at him. She was a lot taller than Necro, but even she couldn’t see a thing.
“I think it’s that way. Hold on.” He ducked through the crowd, the others following in his wake. “There.” Link nodded and grabbed Floyd’s arm with one hand, guiding Rid with the other. Necro held on to Floyd, while Sampson brought up the rear.
Ridley glared at Link until he dropped Floyd’s arm.
“Look.” Floyd pointed. “Sirenes.”
Ridley scoffed. “Sirenes? That’s not a real thing.”
“It is now. Nox uses them to lure people into the club.”
They weren’t real Sirens, but they didn’t have to be. They were women so hot they could’ve been on the covers of Link’s car magazines. They wandered through the train station, selling tubes of bright red liquid to some folks and clear bubbling foam to others. Floyd was right—if you watched long enough, you could see they were pushing the crowd in the direction of the club.
Link was starstruck.
“Eyes forward, soldier,” Ridley said. All he could do was nod. The Sirenes weren’t wearing much; instead, they were wrapped in some kind of crazy lit-up fabric, like Chinese lanterns, or maybe human glow sticks.
As usual, when it came to Caster clubs, Link didn’t get it. This time, he didn’t mind. But he still didn’t get it. If my mamma could only see me now. She’d blow a gasket. He shook his head. “Didn’t we just come from breakfast?” he said loudly. “How is there so much nightlife with so little night?” It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen, and given the past few years, that was really saying something.
“Because,” Floyd shouted back, “this is probably still last night.”
“Or maybe tomorrow night,” Necro said. “Give or take a few days. The Underground never sleeps around here. Especially not when Lennox Gates opens a new club in town.”
“Big crowd for a new club,” Ridley said.
“When you’re hot you’re on fire,” Necro yelled.
“How would you know?” Ridley shouted back. Necro made a face and disappeared into the crowd, Floyd ducking after her.
“Come on, Rid. We gotta keep up.” Now that they were actually at the club, Link started getting nervous again.
“I think they went in there.” Rid nodded. “That way.”
Above the crowd, the word SIRENE was spray-painted, graffiti-style, against the crumbling walls of the Tunnels.
The crowd parted, and all Link could see was the black velvet rope as Lucille Ball strutted right past it.
As far as Link could tell, Sirene was no place for Mortals. Sure, there were always a few strays who found their way to the Dark Caster clubs in the Tunnels—Link and Ethan had, not long ago. But as a general rule, Casters and Incubuses preferred to keep to their own. Dark to Dark, Light to Light. Especially when they were doing things like blowing off steam, drinking blood, and flexing their powers.
No, Casters didn’t want Mortals here, and Mortals wouldn’t make it for long. The Underground belonged to the Casters, and down here, the rules were different. Moderation was something only Mortals cared about, right along with respect for Mortal life. Rid used to tell Link that you didn’t want to be a fly on the wall of any Underground club when some Supernatural decided to go Hershey’s Special Dark and get out their swatter.
Not that many Mortals ever got to the point of risking it.
The idea of a place without Mortal judgments, not to mention a place where Darkness belonged as much as if not more than Light, was terrifying to most Mortals. Before he was bitten, Link’s whole idea of good and bad—or as Mrs. Lincoln liked to call it, bad to worse—was based on sneaking out of Sunday school (bad) and into the girls’ locker room (worse). Now it was based on making deals with Dark Casters (bad), drinking human blood (worse), or, say, stabbing your friend’s great-great-uncle in the chest with gardening shears (the very worst).
Tonight, Link doubted Sirene would be an exception to the rule.
“Hey.” Ridley nodded at the bouncer standing behind the black velvet rope at the entrance to the club itself. He was about the size of three Summerville football players, the kind who were never in good enough shape to play any other sport. “You have to let us in. We’re with the band. They just came through this way, and—”
Before she could finish, the bouncer grunted and held up his hand. He rose to his feet, pulling back the black velvet rope, and a group of Incubuses instantly Ripped inside, materializing out of the air almost exactly where he stood. He nodded to them respectfully. “Your usual table is waiting, gentlemen.”
Link swallowed, automatically stepping backward into the shadows.
Blood Incubuses. Here. A whole lot of them. Smelling like they just ate. This place is as bad as that other Caster club, Exile. Maybe worse.
Now the bouncer looked back at Ridley.
“Like I said, we’re with the band,” Ridley said.
“And that cat,” Link added.
“They’re expecting us.” Ridley held up the flyer scrawled with the word Sirene.
“And what are they expecting, Blondie?” The bouncer leered at her. “Can I expect something, too?” His bald, sweating head was so heavily inked that you almost couldn’t see his gold-lit snake eyes. When he smiled, he let his forked tongue slither in and out of his mouth. Each side was pierced.
Clas
sy, Link thought.
The forks curled and uncurled almost to Ridley’s cheek, getting closer, until Link realized they weren’t tongues at all, but some kind of strange snakes that lived in the guy’s mouth.
Link grabbed them and yanked, as hard as he could. “Yeah. They’re expectin’ you to show the lady some respect. Now step aside, Snake Eyes.”
Three feet of hissing snakes fell out of their warm habitat and down to the ground in front of the bouncer. Six feet of Link joined them there, seconds later, knocked on his butt. Hybrid Incubus. Right. Superstrength. Shoulda seen that one comin’. Seein’ as he’s the bouncer and all.
“So, tough guy.” The bouncer leaned over Link. “You think this is your big break? For you and your cat? Think again.”
Link felt his cheeks getting hot, and he was pretty sure he’d snapped a drumstick beneath him. “That’s not cool, Pool Cue.”
The bald guy turned even redder beneath his tats. “No? How about this? Here’s your big break. Only it’s for your head. I know because I’ll be the one doing the breaking.”
“You talkin’ about my melon, Rapunzel? Is that it?” Link sat up and the guy pushed him back down. “You feelin’ a little jealous?”
If I can get back on my feet, I can take him.
The bouncer flexed his horse-sized muscles.
Maybe.
“Boys.” Rid shook out her pink-striped hair. “This is getting boring.”
Link tackled the bouncer and the two of them went flying into the crowd, beating the crap out of each other.
Ridley rolled her eyes. A second later, the cherry lollipop hit her tongue and the velvet rope hit the floor. She was that good. Just like always.
As he wiped the blood off the corner of his bruised mouth, Link wondered if she’d done it to him since they’d started going out—and if she had, how would he know?
“Your table is waiting,” the bouncer said, helping Link up after him. Then he offered his arm to Ridley, as if he’d forgotten about the whole beatdown thing. She let him guide her up the steps to the doorway.
“It sure is” was all Rid said to the bouncer. “Tomorrow, I want you to wave us straight through.”
“You got it,” the bouncer said. “Mr. Gates said we’d be seeing a lot of you from now on.”
“He did?” Ridley faltered. “Of course he did.”
Link didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he yanked his hair back up into its usual spikes and pushed his way up to the bouncer. “Hey, Baldy McThug. Next time I’m gonna kick your ass. Me, and my cat. What do you have to say to that?”
The bouncer ignored him. Link sighed.
It was humiliating, having your girlfriend run interference for you, but as Link brushed himself off from the dirty floor, he didn’t know how to tell her that. This whole band thing might have been her idea, but it was still his audition. Link would never know his way around the Caster world the way Ridley did, but that didn’t mean he was pathetic, and it didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of himself.
Couldn’t he?
He was the one who belonged at an Incubus club more than any of them. He’d taken out Abraham Ravenwood with a pair of garden shears. There was no point in holding back now.
It was time for Wesley Lincoln to man up.
Tonight would be the beginning of all that. His supernatural rock career was coming, and it was about time.
I need a few cherry lollipops of my own.
Link followed Ridley and the bouncer up the steps.
Lucille waited for them at the top, like they were a couple of clueless idiots.
Link snorted. “Don’t you look at me like that. I didn’t see you helpin’.”
Lucille stalked away in a silent huff.
“Women.” Link shook his head at Rid.
“Don’t.” She took his hand as the massive warehouse doors slid open, and they were in the club.
Or at least, they were in some kind of long, dark hallway leading to the club. The crowd pushed them along like a river. Link held on to Ridley with one hand and felt for his broken drumsticks with the other.
The only light came from the outline of a mirrored bar running down the side of the chamber. Even though it was far too dark to see where you were going, Link could’ve sworn he saw something in the shadows. It felt like he was being watched, but he didn’t see anyone.
Strange, he thought. No stranger than anything else around here, though.
It wasn’t until the hall opened into a single room—maybe three or four stories high—that flashing lights hit his eyes and he could see again.
Barely.
It was what he saw that floored him.
More than that… who.
CHAPTER 16
For Those About to Rock
What is she doing here? Ridley thought. At least, that was her first thought. Her second was I’m going to kill her. The third was My mother is going to kill me.
“Link! Ridley!”
Link looked almost as shocked as Ridley. “Sweet Cheesus—”
Ryan Duchannes was at Sirene.
Ridley froze. It was an animal instinct—fight, flight, or freeze. Her little sister was here, at the club. Ryan was thirteen years old and expected to go Light as the sun itself. A Dark Caster Underground club was the last place you’d think to find her.
True, she was wearing makeup and a mess of an outfit Ridley couldn’t even begin to understand—plaid shorts, an argyle vest, knee-high duck boots, and a baseball cap. Ryan’s attempt at a signature style.
She stood there in the crowd, holding the cat, sandwiched between Dark Casters and looking about as out of place in the industrial warehouse as a Mortal Girl Scout would. Ridley’s sister would never have found this place on her own. Someone else was involved.
Someone powerful.
Someone who wants me to know just how powerful he is.
Running wasn’t an option. She couldn’t leave Ryan alone here.
Fight was out, too. Ridley didn’t know exactly what she was up against, but she had a pretty good idea.
This one move told her more than most. She could smell a predator a mile away, and more than anything, she knew when she was bested.
Checkmate, Lennox Gates.
She was in New York City, on his turf. She had dragged her boyfriend all the way here, and she’d put her future and his on the line. Now she was staring at her kid sister.
It was the first time Ridley understood that getting out of this whole mess was going to be trickier than she’d thought. She had underestimated her opponent. After Sarafine and Abraham, she thought she’d learned never to do that again.
Ridley’s hand was around Ryan’s wrist before Ryan could say another word. “Get out of here.”
“Why?” Ryan looked shocked. “I thought you invited me? For Link’s gig?”
“We didn’t invite you.” Ridley was already pulling Ryan toward the door, which wasn’t easy, seeing as she nearly knocked over an Incubus carrying a pitcher of what she doubted was cherry soda. He glared as she pushed past.
“How did you get here, Ryan?” The sisterly inquisition was on.
“Tunnels.”
“And Mom thinks?”
“Mamma thinks I’m sleeping at Jackie Eaton’s.” Ryan looked past Ridley. “Hey, Link.”
“Hey yourself, Ryan. Lookin’ sharp.” Link leaned in for the same old awkward hug he usually gave Rid’s little sister, the kind that avoided all unnecessary touching.
“Why are you here, Ryan?”
“That note you sent.”
“I never sent you a note.”
“Of course you did. I have it in my bag.” Ryan slipped her suede backpack off her shoulders and unzipped it. She handed Ridley a slick black envelope sealed with red wax.
The wax had been stamped with the letter S, only the S was a serpent. “ ‘Ridley Duchannes and Wesley Lincoln request the pleasure of your company at a private concert benefiting the Sirensong Foundation. Come join us in celebrating the
opening of the club Sirene. R.S.V.P. & H.T.V.T.’ ” Ridley looked up. “What the hell? Is this some kind of a joke?”
“H.T.V.T.?” Link looked blank.
“Hold to Virtually Teleport. It’s a Rip letter. All Ryan had to do was go anywhere in the Tunnels with this thing in her hand and she Ripped right here.”
Ryan’s eyes were still glowing. “It was like riding in a Ferrari.”
Ridley shook her head. “Not an easy Cast, more of a status thing. You know, big party, transportation provided. Check it out.” Ridley held the letter out to Link.
He raised his hands. “No way. I’m not touchin’ that thing. I have a bad enough time Rippin’ as it is.” Link looked as worried as she felt.
She knew they shouldn’t have come here. But then, if we hadn’t, who would be taking care of Ryan right now?
Ryan’s face clouded over. “If you didn’t invite me, Rid, then who did?”
“I did.” The words sounded like they came from the sky, both above and behind her. But Ridley knew better.
Not the sky—the balcony. Ridley recognized the voice immediately, though she hadn’t heard it in weeks now. It still made her shiver.
The one who looked as hot as he acted cold.
The one she owed not one but two markers.
One that could ruin her relationship, and one that could ruin her life.
He was the reason they were here tonight, and the reason she was in New York at all.
Ridley had finally met her match, and his name was Lennox Gates. Ryan was his move. It was a challenge, head to head. Siren versus whatever the hell kind of Dark Caster he was.
Forget Liar’s Trade. The real game was only now beginning.
This might be Link’s audition, but it was her game.
Her fist clenched in the sudden green light of her Binding Ring.
It’s on.
The moment she turned to look at him, the club went quiet.
Not quiet—utterly and completely silent, because there was no one left inside. Every single person had disappeared, and now it was just the two of them. Ridley could hear her own heart pounding.
