Dangerous Creatures(76)

“Naturally.”

Silas stubbed out the cigar on the railing, next to Nox’s hand. “Tomorrow night. If they’re not there, you’ll be the one to pay for it.”

Nox tried to keep his expression unreadable. “As if I’d expect anything less.”

“Have I ever showed you my tattoo?” Silas rolled up his sleeve another few inches. Two words curved around the front of the Incubus’s bicep.

No mercy.

“My grandfather cut it into my arm himself.” Silas let his sleeve fall. He snapped his fingers and the door of the observation platform opened behind him.



After Silas was gone, Nox stayed on the roof. There was one more thing he needed to do, and he wanted to do it before he changed his mind.

He pulled a matchbook from his pocket and ran his fingers over the six letters on the cover.

Nox couldn’t see his own future, but he wasn’t sure it mattered, not anymore. His future wasn’t the one he needed to see.

He had to see hers.

Nox had seen the fire and the chains, and he’d started the biggest con of his life. He needed to know if it was going to work—if he could protect her.

No matter how she felt about him, he still had to know.

He struck the match. The smell of sulfur crept into his nostrils.

He lifted his eyes, and there, in the darkness, he saw the last days of Ridley Duchannes’ life.

For the third and final time.

And then, as the clouds rolled in, he did something else. He made a plan to change them.



The four of them sat eating hot dogs on a pile of rocks in Central Park, shrouded by trees. The sky was dark, and rain was on the way.

Only rain, if we’re lucky.

But when are we ever lucky?

Rid could still hear the traffic from Central Park South. The sound of the chaos was comforting. After what Nox had told her, Ridley didn’t feel safe anywhere, but there was only so long the others were willing to stay sandwiched between protective candles.

Hiding in crowded public spaces—Mortal spaces—was the only other idea she’d come up with.

And sticking together.

“That’s the big plan? The best you could come up with?” Floyd sounded skeptical. She shoved the rest of her hot dog into her mouth.

“Yeah.” Link glared. “Seein’ as the marines were already busy.”

“You think this could actually work?” Necro tossed her dog back into the paper. “Silas will buy it?” She was bouncing back faster than anyone had thought she could, especially considering it had only been a day since she was lying unconscious on her deathbed.

Even so, the hot dog was ambitious.

“He might.” Link sighed. “Maybe.”

Ridley couldn’t eat, either. “It’s a long shot. If you guys don’t want to do it, I understand.” She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and shivered.

“What does that mean?” Necro picked at the awkward bandage on her neck.

“It means that I wasn’t straight with Link, and I wasn’t straight with you. And I’m sorry about that.” Ridley sounded miserable. “About a lot of things.”

Necro looked at her. Floyd didn’t.

Link stayed silent.

In the distance, two taxi drivers cussed each other out. Horns blared, and cars roared past.

“You want to know what I think?” Necro asked.

Rid wasn’t sure.

“You, Ridley Duchannes, are a giant bitch. A full-blown Yoko Ono.” Necro said the words slowly. Then she looked at Floyd, who shrugged.

Ridley stiffened. “And?”

“And I think John Ono Lennon was one of the greatest musicians in the history of the known universe.” Necro smiled.

Ridley was caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every band needs a Yoko. And Silas Ravenwood can suck it. Nobody messes with my band. Right, Floyd?”

Floyd wadded up her hot dog wrapper. “The girl has a point.”

Necro held up her fist. “Pound it, sister. Silas Ravenwood is going down.”

Floyd held up hers.

Then Link. “Don’t leave a guy hangin’.”

Ridley didn’t.

“Now,” said Necro, rubbing her blue faux-hawk. “Think you can do anything with this hair? I’m feeling like tonight calls for a Brooklyn Blowout.”

“No time. We have to meet Nox back at the apartment.” Ridley slid down from the rock, her short kilt snagging on the way.

“Tell me he’s bringing us a pizza,” Necro said, sliding down after her. “Anything but hot dogs.”


“Even better,” Ridley said as Link and Floyd climbed down from the rock. “He’s bringing us the blueprints to Sirene.”





CHAPTER 34


Symphony of Destruction


This is a hellhole,” Ridley muttered from her seat on the dank basement floor.

“You think?” Link sat next to her, staring up at the ceiling, where some kind of plumbing leaked through the planks and plaster.

Not just a hellhole. A prison, she thought. You could almost hear the rats scurrying behind the kegs.

How did I end up in a dirty basement in the bottom of a nightclub in Brooklyn? Afraid for my future? Hiding from Silas Ravenwood?