Dangerous Creatures(24)

Or were afraid to know.

Strange.

She felt the same familiar coldness—the one from the curb, the one from the Vindicabo Cast. From her dreams. She tried to shake it off. New York City was complicated enough—second-guessing herself wasn’t a luxury she could afford.

Nothing here I can’t handle, is there?

She tried not to consider the answer to her own question.

Besides, there were a few familiar faces. Upon closer inspection, Ridley picked out a Blood Incubus chopping up raw meat in the kitchen, a Dark Caster hunched over the Marilyn’s Sweetheart Specials menu, and what appeared to be an aging Siren bartender nursing a coffee at the counter. A mixed crowd was relatively rare in the Caster world, and Ridley didn’t know what to make of it.

She didn’t know what to make of a lot of things since they’d arrived.

“What do you know? The joint is jumping,” Ridley said, sliding into the booth across the table from Link.

He kept talking into his phone, holding up one hand. “Hang on. My roommate just walked into the dining hall.”

Rid raised an eyebrow.

Link’s mom.

He looked at her, pleading. She got the message.

Don’t blow this for me.

“Gotta go, or I’ll be late for the Righteous Freshman breakfast.” He nodded. “I know.” He nodded again. “Sure thing.” And again. “Yes, ma’am.” Again. “Yep. Yep. Yep. Flossed, too.”

Ridley held up a canister of cutlery and shook it by Link’s face, making a loud clattering noise. He started to laugh in spite of himself.

“Whoops—I’m losin’ you. I think the band’s practicin’ or somethin’. Call you next week—I can’t hear—” He clicked off with a sigh.

She smiled. “How’s my favorite Mamma?”

He tossed the phone down to the tabletop. “Who cares, as long as she doesn’t get in her car and haul all the way to Georgia Redeemer to make sure I change my underwear?”

“Did you?”

“Why? You wanna see for yourself?” He smiled at her, Rid’s favorite smile. The one that said: Third Degree Burns, Babe. That’s how hot you are. After last night, she hoped that was what it still meant. Instead of: I’m feeling guilty because I crushed on some rocker girl.

Either way, she smiled back, Link’s favorite smile. The one that said: I know, Hot Rod. I’m the one holding the match.

Come play with fire.

My fire.

The moment she reached for his hand, Link pushed his coffee cup away from him. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

Uh-oh.

She pulled back her hand. He kept going. “The thing is, Rid, you’re right. You were right all along. I thought about it last night while I was working on some new lyrics in the practice room.”

“So I heard. Seems you’re getting along with the girls in the band. At least half of them.” Ridley forced a smile.

“Whatever,” Link said. He wasn’t falling for that one.

Ridley made a mental note to change the stripe in her hair from pink to some other color. Any other color, so long as it doesn’t remind me of Pink Floyd.

Link jiggled his leg beneath the table. “Why was I so mad at you yesterday? I came to New York to play my music, and you gave me that opportunity, right here and now.”

“I did? I did.” She tried not to sound surprised. Right? You did. See? You’re not such a terrible person.

“You just did it in your own messed-up way.”

“Messed up?” She tried to look confused.

Link ignored her. “Which used to be all right. But now we need to set a few ground rules,” he said.

Um. O-kay. “You know I don’t do well with rules.”

“I do. That’s why we’re goin’ to get it all out in the open.” Link looked unusually serious. “This is the way it’s going to work with us. This is the only way I can handle it. If we can’t do it the right way, I don’t want to do it. Not anymore.”

Not anymore? He’d better do it. Just like I promised he would.

In all their many breakups, Ridley couldn’t remember Link ever being so reasonable. It was almost horrifying.

This wasn’t how they talked. They threw things at each other. Insults, jokes, sometimes even remotes. They made war and made peace and made up and made out. They didn’t do things like set ground rules. They didn’t do feelings talk. They didn’t get it out in the open.

Ridley looked down at the red, bowling-ball-speckled diner table. “It all sounds so grown-up when you say it like that.”

A sad expression crossed Link’s face. “So maybe we gotta grow up, Rid.”

“But ground rules?”

“Yep.” Link tapped on the tabletop. “First, no magic. No Siren stuff.”

She looked liked he’d slapped her. “What are you talking about?” No one had ever dared say anything like that to her before. No Siren stuff? Why didn’t he just say no Ridley stuff?

They were one and the same.

Ridley drew a deep breath.

“Wait,” Link said, grabbing her hand before she could launch her attack. “It’s just that I don’t want you charmin’ anyone or gettin’ out your little Blow Pops to make sure everyone loves me. That’s not everyone lovin’ me, or my music. That’s everyone lovin’ you.”