Dangerous Creatures (19 page)

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.

 
CHAPTER 16 

For Those About to Rock

W
hat 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.