Silence.
“I know you’re there. You can come out now.”
The shadows in his room seemed to convulse, as if the walls themselves were trying to catch their breath.
The air churned around him.
Now. It’s coming.
Slowly, a black figure rose from the floor, materializing up from the rug as if it were being pulled into the Mortal world against its will. In reality, Lennox knew it was the reverse. The spirit was willing itself into this world—a difficult feat, almost Herculean.
Vexes—real ones. Here. In my own apartment, for the very first time.
Then Lennox had another thought, colder than the air around him.
He’s getting closer.
The apartment was the most Bound place Lennox knew of, with the exception of his club. The security in his building rivaled that of the UN building downtown. Stray Supernaturals were not welcome here, and neither were visitors from the Otherworld. Lennox would have thought it was impossible, if he hadn’t been dealing with the angriest dead headcase in five hundred years.
He can get to me, anywhere I go.
I’ll never be free of him.
Lennox raised his voice. “Which is your point, right? I understand, old man. You’ll have your way, or I’m to join you down there?” He stood up, pacing across the room. “Your hybrid friend is going to show up at the club today, and your Siren is bound to follow. I’ve taken measures to incentivize them both. Have a little faith.”
He knew he was asking the impossible, and he expected that his associate was laughing on the other side. Laughing, and making room for Lennox Gates in the Otherworld, right next to him.
“I’m not stupid or suicidal. This display really isn’t necessary,” he said.
But it is your style, he added silently. Or your name wouldn’t be Abraham Ravenwood. And I wouldn’t be in this bind.
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 befo
re 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.