Dangerous Creatures (8 page)

More like insufferable. That’s what he was.

She put it all out of her mind.

First things first.

She had to settle her gambling debt, and to do that, she had to get Link to New York. One drummer, coming right up.

In Philadelphia, Rid only let Link out of the Beater long enough at the local truck stop to buy a Coke, not that he could drink it.

In East Brunswick, New Jersey, she was relieved to see signs posted everywhere that only an attendant could pump the gas, so getting out of the car wasn’t even an option. “Sorry, Hot Rod. It’s the law.”

Ridley couldn’t help but feel an irrational panic that he might turn around and drive right back home. She could sense his nerves all the way from the other side of the car. Link couldn’t keep his hands on the wheel. He was too busy tapping on every other surface of the Beater.

“I just gotta pull over and breathe for a second.” He exhaled loudly, like a smoker without a cigarette.

“You’re fine.” Ridley reached out her hand.
I should pat something, right? Maybe his arm?

She let her hand fall on his leg, awkwardly.

“You don’t know that. What if I suck? What if I never get a new band? What if this was all just a stupid idea?” He said the words like they were new thoughts, and Ridley tried not to smile.

“When has that ever stopped you before?” She gave up on the patting.

After that, Ridley was on standby, ready to implement emergency measures. Link was freaking out at the wheel, and Ridley was stuck in his passenger seat. If she didn’t do something, she was going down with this ship.

Like it or not, they were in this together.

Link shrugged. “I could get a job at the Suds-It-Up, I guess.”

It was the saddest thing she had ever heard. It gave her a thought so un-Ridley it felt like heartburn in her brain.

This must be what it’s really like to be Bound to a person. You can’t just wave it away, turn it magically on or off. Really connecting yourself to another person is infinitely more complicated than that.

She looked at the fire-forged Binding Ring on her finger. Ridley had to do something, for both of them.

Rid wriggled her fingers, watching as the colors of the ring shifted from a bright blue to a milky green.
Caster green
, she thought.
Like some big old Caster mood ring
.

She closed her eyes.

No. It wasn’t a Cast. It wasn’t even a Charm. It wasn’t the same as a cherry lollipop or a piece of gum or anything she could chew on or suck on or sweeten up her Siren powers with.

It was a wish.

But as she wished, she felt a strange pull—as if something was giving way in the deepest part of her own mind, the way it did when she was Kelting with a Caster or Charming her way past some unsuspecting Boy Scout.

I wish this Beater could Travel. If John were here, he’d be able to figure out a way to do it. We’d Rip from here to New York City in a heartbeat.

Ridley’s heart pounded and she opened her eyes just in time to see the Beater crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, over the water from Manhattan into Brooklyn.

“Wait,” she said, turning to Link. “Did you see that?”

“It’s kinda hard to miss the Brooklyn Bridge, Rid. Even for a boy from Gatlin.” Link grinned. He was back to his old self. Something about the city always charmed Link as completely as anything Rid could do to him.

“You didn’t notice anything weird just now? Between New Jersey and here?”

“You mean, aside from the license plates bein’ the wrong color and the radio stations bein’ all jacked up? And how you gotta pay money just to drive on the highway? Everything’s weird, Babe. This is the North.” Then “Stairway to Heaven” came on and all conversation came to a mandatory stop. It was one of the only rules in the Beater. You had to respect the Stairway.

Rid held up her hand in the moonlight, staring at the ring.
What were the words of that Binding Cast?
Something send us?
Did the ring do it?

It had faded back to blue again, and now it didn’t look any more powerful than the other pieces of jewelry she was wearing.

Link didn’t make the Beater Travel. He didn’t even notice it. And I didn’t imagine it. I couldn’t have.

Because they were in New York.

She didn’t know how or why, or even who was responsible—but at least nothing bad had happened. She had gotten her wish. There was no turning back from New York now.

Ridley couldn’t tell if it was because of the ring, but as they crossed through the darkness from one stretch of sparkling lights to the next, the Brooklyn Bridge seemed like the most magical place in the world, or the second most magical. It reminded Ridley of the Caster bridge that led to the seam, the great boundary between the Mortal world and the Otherworld. Except where that bridge had been a splintery old dock, this one was almost a monument to Mortals. She wondered why she’d never noticed it before. The immense scale of everything—the cables rising high into the night sky overhead, the support beams striping them with shadow and light as the Beater sped by—it wasn’t like anything either of them was used to seeing around Gatlin.

It was Mortal and breathtaking, and Ridley couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the idea that the pathetic, broken-down human race could pull off something this beautiful.

Just when you think they can’t surprise you
, she thought.
Then you have to start worrying that they can.

 
CHAPTER 7 

Another Brick in the Wall

W
e’re not lost. How big can Brooklyn be? And I got a nose like a houndog, remember?”

“
Hound dog
is two words,” Ridley said. “And you mean bloodhound.”

“Whatever.” He took a swig from the Coke can wedged between his seat and the door. Cars as old as the Beater didn’t have luxury amenities like cup holders or windshield wiper fluid, let alone both headlights.

“You sure you even know where you’re going? Where your apartment is?” Ridley looked at him suspiciously.

He spat the Coke back into the can with a sigh. It was as close as he could come to drinking one; like any Incubus, Link didn’t need food, or even want it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss it.

Link sighed, rattling the can. “It’s not an apartment. Not exactly.”

“What is it, exactly?”

“A parking lot.” He stole a sideways look at her.

“Excellent.” She tried to look annoyed, but really, she wasn’t that surprised.

“I figured I’d sleep in the Beater. Seems to me we had some pretty good times in this old girl.” He patted the dashboard affectionately.

“Your plan was to move to New York until you made it big and you were going to sleep in your car the whole time?”

Link shrugged. “How long could it take? I’m a talented guy.”

Ridley pulled a slip of paper out of her bag and grabbed Link’s ancient and not-at-all-smart phone off the dashboard. She found the keypad and slowly typed in letters with the tips of her long red nails. “Never mind. I’ve got this.”

It was time for the next phase of her plan—time to meet the band, and Link couldn’t have made things any easier. The roadie at Suffer had given her the lead guitarist’s number and told her to call when they got to town.
Here we are.

on our way address pls—Rid frm Suffer

“You have? Got what?” Link frowned.

“I know some people.” She patted his arm. “I always do.”

“Since when?” Now it was Link’s turn to be suspicious.

The next text was almost instantaneous, and incomprehensible.

puking clown myrtle duane

Ridley tried to decipher the message. “It seems like we’re staying with this guy named Duane,” she said. “And maybe a girl named Myrtle.”

“How come I never heard a these people?”

Ridley scrambled. “They’re friends of John’s. I texted him, and he hooked us up.”

“John’s supposed to be on a plane all night, remember?” Link said. “Who is this Duane guy for real?”

“They have Wi-Fi now on planes,” Ridley said smoothly.
The lies are starting to come so easily. Even more quickly than usual.
“Which you’d know, if you’d ever been on one.”

“Hey, I’ve been places.”

“The Greyhound bus to Myrtle Beach doesn’t count.” Rid didn’t even look up. “Speaking of Myrtle.” She kept typing.

what puking clown

The response came just as quickly.

puke on myrtle

What?

Link scoffed, and Rid forced herself to stop looking at the phone. He glanced away from the street signs long enough to raise an eyebrow at her. “Why do I need a plane? John’s stupid for not Traveling.”

“That’s funny, because last time I checked we were sitting in a car for ten thousand hours driving all the way from South Carolina to New York City. Instead of Traveling.”
Except for the part when we were
, Ridley thought.

“That’s different. I couldn’t leave this sweet old girl home. She’d kill me.” Link patted the dashboard. “Isn’t that right, Sugarpie?”

“We have a place to crash with Duane and Myrtle. That’s the important thing. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Ridley almost believed herself as she said it. She tried the phone once more.

puking clown what the hell who is myrtle

This time, there was no response at all.