Dangerous Creatures

CHAPTER 15 Rock of Ages

As Link walked down the Brooklyn street with Sampson, he couldn’t remember what had been bothering him. Something had been, but it had slipped away. Ridley had that effect on him. A few words from her, and he almost always started feeling better. He’d almost have thought she was Charming him, except for the fact that she’d promised she wouldn’t.

What kinda magic was that?

Link gave up.

To be honest, he didn’t really pay attention to a word anyone said after audition. It was like listening to a bunch of chickens squawking over a spilled bag of feed. Chickens or cheerleaders. The Jackson PTA, fightin’ over which book to ban. My mom on the way home from choir practice, full up with a fresh load a gossip. Link didn’t have much to say. At least, not to the chickens. His mind was on the audition.

It was an awesome word, like overtime or front row or state finals. Cheese-in-the-crust or double-stuffed or supersized. Of all those words, audition was the granddaddy of them all. At least, Link was pretty sure it was.

He’d never actually had one.

Link didn’t audition for bands. He always made sure it was his band, so they had to take him. That was the secret of his success. But it didn’t help him now. He was terrified. Auditions were so good they were bad, so important they were paralyzing. Link’s adrenaline was pushing and pounding so hard he felt sick, same as when he tried to eat his mom’s red-eye gravy halfway through his transition from human to Incubus.

Like he could blow chunks.

Hope I don’t puke onstage. Marilyn Manson puked onstage. Wait. It’s cool, right? If Marilyn Manson did it?

Link was lost in thought until he and Sampson met up with the girls outside a stairwell that led to a subway station.

Don’t think about the audition. Crap, you thought about it, you dumbucket.

“Earth to Link.” Floyd looked at Link. “You sick?”

Link didn’t say anything. Not in front of her. Not in front of a girl. He tried to focus on the yellow police tape that sealed off the entrance to the stairs.

“If you’re gonna puke, do it now,” Floyd said. “That’s all I’m sayin’. Remember Marilyn Manson.” She smiled. “That was a damn good hurl.”

Link laughed, in spite of the bile in his throat. There weren’t a lot of girls like Floyd. Even Ridley could see that, which was probably why her feathers had been so ruffled ever since they’d gotten here. He had to admit he kind of liked the attention.

That’s just life in the henhouse, he thought. Especially when the rooster’s as smooth as this guy right here.

Floyd looked both ways and ducked inside the stairwell. The second she passed the yellow tape, she disappeared. The air rippled in her wake.

Not something you’d see in any henhouse.

“Is she Rippin’? ’Cause I didn’t hear anythin’.” Link looked at Necro.

Necro shook her head. “Nope. Doorwell. You gotta look for the broken subway stops. They’re not actually broken. They’re ours.”

“The regular old New York City subway? It’s also a Caster subway?”

“The stops are. We rotate ours through the Mortal system, so it’s a different stop every time, all over the five boroughs. Whole system. Someone got the idea when we saw all the New York City utility blockades during the last big storm. So long as we stick to the broken stops, nobody sees us come and go. And nobody bothers us.”

Link looked at her. “Doesn’t anyone ever wonder why there’s so many broken stops?”

Necro smiled. “Who? Something’s always broken. This is New York. Now come on.” She disappeared as she said it, as if she’d explained something.

Link scratched his head. It was hard for him to imagine, seeing as every time a porch light burned out in Gatlin, it practically made the news. At least, it made his mom’s personal broadcasting system.

“Try to keep up.” Sampson looked at Ridley and Link like they were a couple of kindergartners, then disappeared after Necro.

“Fun guy,” Link said.

“Or not,” Rid said.

Link shrugged. “I guess Darkborns are stiffs.”

“You think?” She sounded worried.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great nothing else.” He laughed, but Rid wasn’t having it. Not today.

She looks hotter than Myrtle Beach in July, but she’s just as crabby, Link thought.

“Come on. You want to—” Link gestured at the yellow tape. “Or should I?”

“They’re gone. We could bolt,” Ridley said. She seemed more uneasy than she should have, considering this whole Devil’s Hangmen thing was her idea.

“Yeah, right.” Link laughed, but she didn’t. Rid’s not jokin’. So that’s weird. “What are you talkin’ about? We didn’t come this far to hide like a scared cat now.”

Rid sighed. “I’m not saying I’m worried. I’m just saying. We could, you know. Take off.”

“You said that already.” So you’re worried, Link thought. “Why, Rid? I thought you said what happened at Suffer was no big deal.”

Ridley shrugged. “This audition. Lennox Gates. Sirene. I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole thing. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I never should have gotten us into—”

“Whoa. Back it up. This is me.” Link pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket, where he liked to keep them. “These are mine. I got this. I’m good, and if I’m not, well, that’s on me. You can’t keep yankin’ my chain, Rid. First you’re pushin’ me to do this whole Caster band thing, and now that I’m on board, you want out? No way.”

She looked unconvinced, but at least she didn’t take off. Link knew better than to push his luck more than that.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her across the yellow plastic tape before she could say another word. “Geronimo, Sugarplum.”

The Doorwell to the subway must have used some powerful Illusionist mojo, because once Ridley and Link stepped through the yellow tape, they weren’t in the same place at all. They were in something that looked like a tunnel. Then Link felt it—the energy and electricity, the power coursing through his veins and into the world that was beneath the world.

He didn’t feel sick now. They weren’t in just any tunnel. They were in the Caster Tunnels, the Underground that ran like an unseen labyrinth through the world, just beneath the Mortal Realm. Even when he expected it, it was still a surprise. Nothing else felt like this.

It never did, not even when I was full-on Mortal.

Link breathed deep and opened his eyes wide. He squeezed Rid’s hand one more time. “You okay, Babe?”

She nodded. “I’m okay. I mean, better.”

Of course she felt better. They were back in the Underground. It was hard to remember that there was ever a time these Tunnels scared the crap out of him, though they had. Him, and Ethan. For a while, even Liv had freaked out when she came down here. Back when John Breed was just a bad biker boy—and Vexes and Sheers roamed the Tunnels like rats and snakes.

But right now, the Caster Tunnels were the closest thing to home that Link and Rid had. The Tunnels had become the one place they were free from the eyes and opinions of Gatlin County Mortals—none of whom were too short on either. The Underground was practically a full-time home to Macon, seeing as the whole town thought he was dead. Just goes to show, you can get used to anything.

“Hurry up, man.” Floyd was impatient. She was waiting with Necro and Sampson just ahead, and as Link and Rid followed them through the dimly lit carved stone cavern, it felt like old times. Flickering torches lit the way with uneven light, and Link could see as far as the straight stretch of tunnel before them reached, all the way to the unknown darkness.

Until a small something came weaving toward them through the shadows, and meowed.

Link looked ahead into the dark. “Lucille, what the hell are you doin’ down here? I thought you were headin’ out to see the Statue a Liberty? Maybe catch a show on Broadway? Too late for Cats.” He grinned, turning to wink at Ridley.

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.

Classy, 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.