Dangerous Creatures

CHAPTER 24 Wish You Were Here

It 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.

Then again, nobody in this neighborhood was a regular person.

That was all she could think about as she walked into the lobby of Les Avenues Hotel. Seventy-Seventh and Madison, in the heart of Manhattan’s Upper East Side, was as far away from Bushwick as Gatlin.

Maybe farther, she thought as she stood looking at the lobby floor of black and white inlaid marble tile, dotted with love seats so modern that you would have to be a gymnast not to roll right off them.

A man in a fedora sat reading a paper on one of them. As he turned the pages, she noticed a glinting signet ring on his finger.

He looked up.

She looked away, her breath catching in her throat.

What is it?

There was something about him that looked familiar, but he was gone before she could think why. Only the paper remained behind, folded on his chair.

Strange.

As Ridley leaned against the front desk, she realized she was exhausted. Exhausted and overwhelmed. All I want to do is collapse into a bed. Luckily, a desk clerk appeared as soon as she had the thought.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” Even the desk clerk looked more sophisticated than Ridley felt at the moment. Ridley couldn’t help but notice the high quality of her blowout. Glossy ends. Good conditioner. None of the cheap stuff we use.

“Yes. I have a reservation. Ridley Duchannes.” She smiled her best How little you understand can’t you tell by the way I say my name how much it means smile. It was a new one, one she’d perfected since coming to New York. It worked better if she did the eyebrows with it, but Ridley was too tired to move any other part of her face right now.

The clerk had a smile of her own, and it was nasty stuff. “Did you make it recently? You’re not showing up in our computer.” She raised a tiny Do you think I care who you are eyebrow right back at Ridley.

“That’s strange,” Ridley said. Not that strange, since I don’t have a reservation at all.

She waved her hand at the computer. “Can’t you do a little something with that thing and fix it?” Nick the Nerd Warrior would have come in handy right about now. She eyed her phone wistfully.

“What little something do you suggest I try, madame?” The desk clerk raised both eyebrows.

It was no use.

Ridley sighed, unwrapping a cherry lollipop. She didn’t want to do it.

Still.

She gave it one last halfhearted try. “I know you have a room for me, Sweet Cheeks. You e-mailed me saying I had been comped for the weekend.”

“This isn’t Las Vegas, madame. We don’t customarily comp people.” Now the desk clerk allowed her eyes to flicker up and down Ridley’s outfit.

It wasn’t a compliment.

Ridley sighed again, inserting the lollipop into her mouth. As she did, the flecks of gold in her eyes intensified, until it almost looked like they were glowing with light from within. She could feel the power surging up and out from her body, emanating from her on all sides until the lobby itself seemed lit by a slight golden haze.

“Why don’t you look again?”

The woman scrolled down her computer screen. “Sorry. It—it sounds familiar. But I don’t have you in the computer.”

Ridley raised an eyebrow.

Interesting. She’s one tough bird.

“Did I say weekend?” Ridley began. “Because now that I think about it, the letter only said that you had a room for me and I could stay as long as I liked. Free of charge. I think it was something about my fans? Wanting them to know that I had chosen you.”

Those were the fundamental rules of Persuasion: Bluff. Never back down. Believe what you’re selling. The bigger the ask, the more likely you’ll get what you’re asking for.

Just not this time.

“I don’t have a note of that in my computer. Are you in the entertainment industry?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Would you like to give me a credit card? I could book you a standard room overlooking the construction on Seventy-Seventh Street. It’s a bit smaller than—”

“Did I say room? I meant suite.” Raise the stakes, Siren.

“We don’t have a suite available right now—”

“Did you hear suite? I said penthouse.” Believe it. You deserve that penthouse. You can’t imagine not having that penthouse. Ridley removed her sunglasses, looking at the woman with the full power of a Siren’s eyes.

“She’s with me, Penelope.”

Ridley was spluttering and infuriated when she turned to see Nox standing behind her, his black leather jacket slung over one shoulder.

Not him. Please. Not now.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gates.” The clerk was flustered.

“Please, call me Nox.” He leaned over the counter, winking at the woman. “Seeing as we’re all such close friends here.”

“Of course, Mr. Gates.”

“You can put her in my sister’s rooms. She’s away for the moment.” He looked at Ridley. “We keep a few apartments here. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”

Ridley didn’t respond.

“Very good, sir.” The desk clerk averted her eyes.

Nox smiled at her encouragingly. “Maybe Frederico forgot to give you the message when I called earlier to tell you to expect Ms. Duchannes.”

“I do apologize, Mr. Gates. Er, Nox.”

Ridley watched the cold-hearted front desk agent melting.

He was good.

Whatever he was, he didn’t need sugar. Not a lollipop in sight. He didn’t have a tell, as far as Ridley could see. But he had all the power of a Siren.

Did he always? Was he using it on me? Was that why I kissed him? The thought was too unsettling for Ridley to process.

But the evidence was clear. He had some kind of power.

Whatever Lennox Gates was selling, this woman wanted it.

Ridley had never hated him more.

“Are you stalking me?” she hissed at him. He held up a finger. Not yet.

Nox motioned toward a bank of elevators. As they walked away from the front desk, Ridley’s blood was boiling so loudly she couldn’t hear the click of her heels on the black and white striped marble flooring. “What was wrong with that woman? I felt so—so—Mortal.” She shuddered.

“Welcome to New York.”

“You know, every time someone says that to me, I’m starting to understand they mean the opposite.” She didn’t know why she was talking to him. She shouldn’t be. He wasn’t worth it.

“Not me. I mean exactly what I say, every word of it.”

Liar. Ridley looked at Nox. “The Power of Persuasion couldn’t move a hair on that woman’s head.”

“You should probably consider Les Avenues immune to your powers.”

“Immune? As in, I’m nothing here?” The idea was staggering.

“Says everyone who has ever ventured into this neighborhood.” Nox laughed at his own joke. Then he gave up. “She’s a Darkborn.”

“What?”

“The top three floors of this building? All Casters, all powerful, and not exactly the Light variety.” He shrugged. “So the bottom floor, the staff? Darkborns. Ultimately impervious to power of any sort. The latest thing in Caster security.” He shrugged again. “It works.”

“But you could control her.”

“Of course. I’ve got the oldest power of all—an obscene amount of money. My father had the Sight and couldn’t resist the Mortal stock market.” Nox pressed the elevator button and held out a key card. “Take the room. My sister never uses the place.”

Ridley frowned.

“Take it. Think of it as a peace offering. I’m sorry about what happened back at the club. I shouldn’t have done it.”

The kiss. Even he can’t bring himself to say it.

“And I thought you meant everything you said.”

“I do.” He looked up at the mirrored glass ceiling. “At the time, I meant that, too. I just don’t know why I did it.” It sounded like he was being honest, but she’d given up on judging Nox Gates by how he appeared.

They were alone in the elevator now. Ridley stared at the elevator buttons. It was the safest place to look—until the elevator lurched to a stop.

Nox watched her face as the elevator door opened. He held it. “I’m starting to think that something in you brings out the very worst in me.” The words were painfully familiar. He shook his head. “Or maybe it’s all for the best. It’s hard to tell lately.”

Ridley took a step from the elevator to the hallway beyond the doors. “You don’t exactly make me want to be a good girl, if that’s what you’re saying.”

She didn’t mean it as a compliment, and she hoped he knew it.

“Fire,” he said as she moved past him.

“I’m sorry?” She paused.

He sounded strained. “When I kissed you, I tasted fire. I don’t know what it means. I thought you should know.” He was rattled.

Curiously rattled, she thought.

“I’m sorry, that probably sounds insane.” He looked away.

“Not at all.” Ridley shrugged. “That’s what all the boys say.”

Then she moved down the hallway without a word, and the elevator door slid shut between them.

The black lacquered door waited for her at the far end of the hall. The moment Ridley waved the key card over the lock, she suspected that what lay behind the door would not be anything like apartment 2D.

She was right. Lennox Gates and his sister apparently lived like Prince and Princess Charming.

Or Charmless, she thought.

At least, when they were staying at Les Avenues.

The entry door swung open into a wide foyer. Just as in the lobby, there was a black and white inlaid marble floor, which extended into a living room with a panoramic view of the city. The floor-to-ceiling windows were dizzying. Every surface in the room was reflective—from the polished bamboo cabinets and the massive globe chandeliers suspended from the ceiling to the silver edging on the slab of white marble that served as the coffee table. Low black leather couches surrounded the table, where there was a massive display of white orchids. The remaining surface was occupied by dish after dish of candied fruits and chocolates.

She kicked her shoes off and leaned back on a couch, picking a candied sea horse from a dish. Candied sea horses were her childhood favorite.

Strange.

How could he possibly have known? How could he have been expecting me? Even I didn’t know where I was going.

She reached for a cream-colored card, folded in the middle of the dish of candy. “If you need anything, R, ring the bell. The bath should be almost full by now. Clothes are in the closet.”

Cocky little son of a witch.

The note confirmed what she had already suspected. Lennox Gates had known she was coming, which meant he had some kind of foresight, more even than just a Seer. Reading the future was a rare and limited gift. Reece could only read faces, and she had become completely insufferable. Nox had teased Ridley about her future before, but only in the way that anyone with half a brain could.

If Nox had foresight as well as his other abilities, Ridley had to admit he was one of the most powerful Dark Casters she’d ever encountered. She had known that he could manipulate material objects, that he had some kind of control over the material world. Aside from an Illusionist like Larkin or Floyd—who could only appear to have that sort of gift—the only person Ridley knew who could really do something like that was Lena. Or Sarafine, but she was truly out of the picture now.

At least, that’s what Ethan had insisted, ever since he had returned from the Otherworld.

She stared at the card in her hand. The note left Ridley no choice. She had to accept that there was more to Lennox Gates than a love of gambling and nightclubs. There was too much—his powers of Persuasion, Manifestation, and Temporal Distortion—it was too much for one Caster, and she didn’t know how or why he had come to be so powerful.

But it was something.

Something that made him either potentially dangerous or potentially useful.

It was an interesting thought.

Ridley leaned back against the couch. She felt awful about Link and worried about Necro.

No wonder they had kicked her out.

She heard the water running in the other room. The bath. She stood up, feeling the soft pile of the thick white rug beneath her feet. Maybe a bath would help her calm down. Think more clearly. Figure out what to do now.

A few bubbles couldn’t hurt.

She tried not to look at the enormous bed as she wandered through the bedroom. All she noticed was the circular skylight cut into the ceiling and roof above it. She imagined lying there, studying the stars.

Princess Charming had one hell of a view.

Ridley found the door to the bathroom and shut herself safely inside, where the massive tub was filling itself with rose-and lavender-scented water. Exactly as Lennox Gates had promised it would.

Only then did she let herself cry.

She told herself it was the soap burning her eyes.

Three thick white towels later, Ridley felt like a new person. Wrapped in a plush robe, she toweled dry her long wet hair.

She lectured herself as she stared in the mirror, brushing out her tangled curls.

Pick yourself back up. Get it together, Siren. This is what you do. Stop acting like you care about them. Stop acting like Uncle Macon.

Like you can’t accept who you are, how Dark you are. Like you have a choice. Like you have a home.

Like every other door wasn’t slammed in your face on the night of your own Claiming.

Let it be.

Ridley put down the brush and stood up, before the face in the mirror revealed anything to the contrary.

The apartment unfolded into a kind of luxurious stillness in front of her. She padded through the halls in bare feet, wandering into the living room to investigate. Beyond the foyer, the apartment was divided into a living room, a bathroom, a massive closet area, and a bedroom. The living room was framed by a wall of windows, with a marble fireplace dominating the far end of the room.

As she stood in front of it, the fire lit itself, crackling to life.

Nice touch, Prince Charming.

Above the fireplace, Ridley noticed a framed piece of parchment, old and yellowing. It was a passage from Homer’s Odyssey, familiar to all Sirens: “The Song of the Sirens.” She knew the words almost by heart. Uncle Macon had a similar page in his library. The pages were rare, but important.

A Siren relic, if such a thing existed. How weird to find it here.

Come hither, come, Odysseus, / Whom all praise, great glory of the Achaeans!

Bring in your ship and listen to our song. / For none has ever passed us in a black-hulled ship

Till from our lips he heard ecstatic song, / Then went on his way, rejoicing and with larger knowledge.

For we know all that on the plain of Troy / Argives and Trojans suffered at the gods’ behest.

We know whatever happens on the bounteous earth.

Ridley stared at the words, remembering what they had first meant to her. Being Dark was hard to accept at sixteen; knowing that it was her destiny made it easier. For centuries, Siren after Siren had shared her fate, just as sailor after sailor had shared the rocks.

Why should I be spared?

She touched the parchment gently. The world was a cruel place, but at least it was consistent. Ridley understood who and what she was.

Ridley understood destiny.

She moved along the wall, looking at paintings and photographs and other Gates family memorabilia—until she came across a childhood photograph of Nox and his baby sister, sitting in a woman’s lap.

A dark-eyed man stood behind them. He looked familiar.

Even though it was only a photograph, she could feel the unmistakable power resonate through the room.

The Power of Persuasion.

Here.

Now.

Sirensong. Sirene. Everything Ridley had felt in the club. Suddenly, it all made sense.

The woman in the photograph was a Siren. The woman in the photograph was also, most likely, Nox’s mother.

Lennox Gates had Siren blood running through his veins.