Dangerous Dream: A Beautiful Creatures Story(9)

She followed the roadie down the damp stone steps and through the tunnel at the bottom. Ornate crystal sconces adorned the walls, throwing soft light on the reddish-brown water sloshing at their feet.

A rat scurried past one of Ridley’s platform heels. “Classy place.”

“It’s the Incubus VIP lounge,” he said.

For a moment, Rid tried to imagine Link hanging out in a bloodstained tunnel decorated with chandeliers that looked like they belonged in Ravenwood Manor. But she couldn’t. Even though he was a quarter Incubus now, there was nothing Dark about Link.

What a stiff.

They reached the end of the tunnel and stood before the mirrored doors of an elevator. “You’re sure you want to do this?” the roadie asked.

“Don’t worry about me, Blue Eyes. I’ve got this.” The elevator doors opened and Ridley stepped inside.

A withered Caster with dull yellow eyes manned the elevator. “Going up?”

Where else would she be going?

“Does this thing go to the Underground?” Ridley asked.

“Don’t know. I’ve been taking it up to the thirteenth floor and back here for a long time.” The doors closed, and the Caster pushed one of the two buttons on the panel: 13.

“Maybe you should broaden your horizons and find out.” Ridley raised an eyebrow. She unwrapped a piece of gum, then wadded up the wrapper and tucked it in the roadie’s jacket pocket.

“Can’t,” the Caster said. “I’m paying off a debt.” He sounded pathetic, and Ridley wasn’t in the mood for his sob story. So she ignored him until the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Ridley stepped into the hallway. Thousands of cigarette wrappers were glued to the walls, like someone locked in solitary confinement with nothing but a lifetime supply of cigarettes had gotten creative—or bored out of their mind.

Rid could relate.

As she and the roadie turned the corner, the cigarette wrapper wallpaper disappeared and was replaced by a hotel hallway right off the Las Vegas strip—black lacquer, gilded mirrors, and a bad Michelangelo-style ceiling mural. Except this hotel had only one door in the hallway.

Number 13.

The door opened before they knocked. The doorman stood on the other side. Ridley could tell he was a Sybil by the way he studied her face, as if he were reading a book. It was exactly the same way Rid’s older sister, Reece, looked at her every time they saw each other. Sybils could read your face and see your past, your present, and sometimes even bits and pieces of your future. They could also tell if you were lying, the Caster power Ridley hated most.

“She’s with me.” The Mortal nodded at Ridley.

The Sybil didn’t take his eyes off Ridley. As she stepped across the threshold, he held his arm in front of her. “Your powers stay at the door, Siren.”

“Excuse me?” Ridley tried to push past him, but the Sybil didn’t budge.

“You heard me. Caster rules. Mortal-style.” He looked her in the eye, reading her face. “That means no powers.”

No powers.

Ridley glanced at the end of the hallway and swallowed hard. She couldn’t see the cigarette wrappers papering the hallway, or the withered Caster manning the elevator. But she knew he was there.

Luckily, Rid knew something else, too. Something no one in the club or the building or room number 13 could possibly know—the kind of something that just might save her life.

She was ready for them.

Before leaving the club, Ridley had grilled the roadie about the details of the game. A Mortal’s will was no match for a Siren’s Power of Persuasion, especially if the Siren was Ridley Duchannes. The roadie had spilled everything he knew. The no powers rule, and the Sybil at the door to enforce it, turned out to be the only valuable pieces of information. But it was all the information Ridley needed to figure out a way to sidestep the ridiculous rule.

It all hinged on a little trick she’d picked up from Abraham Ravenwood while she was trapped his giant birdcage. Now Ridley was about to find out if she had remembered the spell correctly.

She looked the Sybil in the eye and smiled. “No problem. I stripped downstairs.”


Even as she said the words, Ridley shuddered inwardly at the thought. The idea that Casters would willingly perform a spell to temporarily strip themselves of their powers was crazy. Not only did it make her vulnerable in the worst possible way, but what if her powers didn’t come back when she performed the counterspell? After living as a Mortal when Sarafine had stripped her of her powers, Ridley couldn’t think of anything worse.

Abraham Ravenwood, your mojo better work, you dead pain in the ass, she thought.

The Sybil studied her face. Instead of seeing a Siren with the Power of Persuasion, he saw her in the tunnel on her way here, whispering the incantation that had rendered her temporarily powerless.

He nodded at the Mortal. “Take her back.”

As Ridley slipped past the Sybil, he grabbed her arm. “This isn’t a game, Siren. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Ridley twisted a strand of pink hair around her finger. “I always know what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

If only it were true.



Rid crossed her fingers as she stood in the ladies’ room, reciting the lines of the counterspell that would restore her powers.

Come on!