Dangerous Creatures(63)

“Chocolat chaud,” said Nox.

“That, too. Now hand me the good stuff.” She reached for the nearest plate of cookies.

“Un de chaque, that’s what you want.” Nox smiled, offering Ridley half a salted caramel macaron. He looked particularly out of place in his club clothes—black jeans, a vintage black jacket, and a skinny black tie—surrounded by pink and purple pastel cookies and pastries.

“What’s that?” Ridley popped the macaron into her mouth, making a face. Salty sweet wasn’t so much her thing as sweetly sweet.

“Well, in Paris they’re not quite as indulgent, but the Italians get it. Uno di tutti. That’s what I say when I walk into a Roman bakery. One of everything. Try the coconut.”

She had.

Then she tried it again. And again and again, until the tower of plates was empty except for crumbs. With her mouth as full of sugar as it was, she hadn’t had much time for questions. Not yet, she thought. Soon.

After breakfast, they wandered down Madison to the Whitney. Construction crews had ripped open the sidewalks, taxis were honking and screeching, fast-walking people were jabbering on phones.

It was a perfect New York City morning. At least, it should’ve been—and if things had been different, it would’ve been.

“It’s only one day. Why waste it in a museum?” Ridley argued. “Is that what a real New York Siren would do?”

Now. Show me what you’re about.

“It’s not just a museum. It’s my favorite of all the New York museums,” Nox said.

“A favorite museum?” Ridley shook her head playfully. “Really? I don’t believe you just said that. Favorite means you’ve gone to more than one.”

“I have. So should you. Think about it. Andy Warhol did Marilyn and Liz. If they weren’t Sirens—”

“They weren’t.” Ridley rolled her eyes.

“They should’ve been.” Nox laughed. “Show me a great artist, and I’ll show you—”

Ridley cut him off. “A gift shop and a snack bar.”

“A great Siren.” Nox grinned.

“Is that it? Marilyn and Liz? No other great New York Sirens you want to introduce me to?”

He looked at her, his smile faltering.

She met his eyes.

Now. The woman in the photograph. Tell me.

But Nox’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his jacket, frowning. “Sirensong pulled out of a sold-out gig for tonight. What’s going on?”

The moment had passed, and with it the light and the laughter of the morning. Nox’s face was once again dark and impenetrable.

Ridley couldn’t worry about it, though, because once again all she could think of was Necro.

Ridley pulled his wrist toward her and looked at his watch. “I’m sorry. I need to get back.”

There. She could stop pretending it wasn’t on her mind.

“To your friends?” Nox asked. “I thought they were the ones who kicked you out.”

“They were, I mean, Link was. But my—” What was I going to say? Friend? Was that what this was? “Necro’s sick.”

“Necro?” Nox pulled his arm back, straightening his shirt. “What kind of sick?”

“She passed out onstage. Didn’t you see it? Yesterday, just before I came to the hotel?”

He shook his head. “I left as soon as we—you know.” A shadow crossed his face. “I’m sorry to hear that. I should call someone. Send a doctor.” He felt for his phone.

“I’m not sure they want anything from either one of us right now.” Ridley said the words slowly. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re the last two people on earth that Floyd or Link or Necro want to see.”

Nox lowered his cell back into his pocket.

“You think so?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” When you kissed me. In front of him. While they watched.

“What do we do?” He sounded genuinely worried.

“I’ve left a thousand messages. All we can do is wait.”

“Until what?”

“I’m not sure I know,” Ridley said.

He sighed. “Fair enough.”

“Sirens.” Ridley looked up. I’d better get on with it. The Siren in the photograph. A plan is a plan. “You were going to show me a Siren’s view of New York.”

“First the museum. I think we’ve got to expand your definition of what a Siren is.”

“Enlighten me.”

Nox smiled. “Look, I’m not saying I know you better than you know yourself. I’m saying that if you open your eyes, you’ll figure out you’re not so alone. Or at least, you don’t need to be.”

“I’m not alone. I have—” Who? Not Link. Especially not after yesterday.

Not anymore.

“Well, I have my cousin, Lena.”

Nox nodded. “The Natural. And you have your sister. The little Thaumaturge.”

“Sisters. Can’t forget Reece, no matter how much I’d like to.” She stopped. “Wait—how do you know Lena’s a Natural?” She didn’t like surprises, and she didn’t know if she trusted Nox not to pull them on her.